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Acid Bolt III Trait acide III
A conjurer's advanced acid bolt. Does damage over time to the target. Le trait d'acide avancé d'un invocateur. Applique des dégâts sur la durée à la cible.
Acid: HP -5 per RND Acide: HP -5 par RND
Hellstorm Barrier 1 Barriere Tempête infernale 1
Set 3 Heavy Cover barriers that last 3 RNDS. Anyone that enters takes -10 HP and -1 AP DMG. Applique 3 Barrières de Couverts Lourds pendant 3 RNDS. Quiconque les traverse subit -10 HP et -1 AP de dégâts.
Shield 2.0 Bouclier 2.0
Incoming DMG from attacks is reduced by 35. Lasts 3 RNDS. Les dégâts subits par les attaques sont réduits de 35. Dure de 3 RNDS.
Shield: All Incoming DMG -35 Bouclier: Dégâts subits -35
Ganger Gear Equipement de Ganger
Taken off a dead ganger, which seemed like a good idea at the time. Pris sur un ganger mort, ça semblait être une bonne idée à l'époque.
White Sentry IC IC Sentinelle Blanche
Knight Errant Mage Mage de Knight Errant
Heal IV Soins IV
Heals yourself or a friendly target for 75 HP. Soigne une cible alliée ou vous-même de 75 HP.
Slow III Lenteur III
Decreases the target's Movement by 6 for 3 RNDS. Diminue le Mouvement de la cible de 6 pendant 3 RNDS.
Slow: Movement -6 Lenteur: Mouvement -6
Class A Target Marking System Système de marquage de cible de classe A
An Ares Classic. Un classique Ares.
Scorpyrine Scorpyrine
Acid Bolt II Trait acide II
A conjurer's intermediate acid bolt. Does damage over time to the target. Le trait d'acide intermédiaire d'un invocateur. Applique des dégâts sur la durée à la cible.
Acid: HP -3 per RND Acide: HP -3 par RND
Knight Errant Conjurer Invocateur de Knight Errant
Corporate Attack Dog Chien d'attaque de corporation
Heal I Soins I
Heals yourself or a friendly target for 10 HP. Soigne une cible alliée ou vous-même de 10 HP.
This ork woman is festooned with small circuits, tiny trid screens, and speakers. The trid screens display snippets of trid broadcasts from every corner of the world. The tiny speakers play counterpoint with a sussurus of voices speaking Sperethiel, Punjabi, Kazakh, and other languages.

Her expression is haggard, and she fidgets with her fingers as you approach.
Welcome! Welcome to the Whampoa, my friend! I am Elder Ng, and these are Elders Tang and Ip.

{{GM}}Ng gestures to the elf and human, who each incline their heads respectfully.{{/GM}}

Thank you so much for answering our request for help. We had nowhere else to turn.
It's the least I could do.
Sure. Whatever.
As long as you can pay, I can help.
{{GM}}Under Tang's skin, glowing tattoos writhe and change shape - tigers become cranes, and move on to dragons.{{/GM}}

We're under threat. One by one, we Elders are being hunted by some monster. As you may have noticed when you arrived, there's been another killing just tonight.
{{GM}}Ip crosses his solid chrome arms. Holographic readouts dance constantly over their surface, displaying diagnostic information about their state: operating temperature, servo pressure, and a variety of other minutiae. He looks past you, toward Is0bel.{{/GM}}

The prodigal daughter, returned once more. I didn't expect to see you back aboard the Whampoa in my lifetime, Is0bel. When you disappeared, Elder Yetunde was very put out.
I'm glad you're still alive. When you chose to walk your own path, I was disappointed. But I still understood why you had to leave.

{{GM}}Ip pauses, tasting the air as he chooses his next words with care.{{/GM}}

I hope my lessons have helped you prosper.
Didn't expect to be back, either. Work takes you places, though.

{{GM}}Is0bel shrugs. A moment later, she places a hand on her pistol, eyes trained on the Ip's shoes.{{/GM}}

I don't cart this around for fun, Ip. The lessons kept me alive.
{{GM}}Is0bel blinks several times, and then looks up at Ng, her expression clouded.{{/GM}}

Where is Yetunde, anyway? I expected her to be here.
{{GM}}Ng shakes her head sadly. She reaches out a hand toward Is0bel, who shrinks away from it.{{/GM}}

She's dead. So are Gan and Nakamura. And Tong was killed just tonight.

So much blood. You have to stop this from continuing.
{{GM}}Is0bel's expression remains impassive, but her knuckles grow white as her hands ball up into fists.{{/GM}}

That's...

That's what we're here for. We'll stop the killings.
Thank you, Is0bel.

{{GM}}Ng lifts a hand, wiping away tears from her eyes.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Ip crosses his solid chrome arms. Holographic readouts dance constantly over their surface, displaying diagnostic information about their state: operating temperature, servo pressure, and a variety of other minutiae. He has the bearing of someone who could handle himself in a fight.{{/GM}}

I'm certain you have some questions. Ask, and we'll do our best to tell you what we know.
What can you tell me about the murders?
What happened to Tong?
Have you made any enemies lately?
What do the Whampoan Elders do?
That's all for now.
They started two weeks ago. The first to go was Gan. We found him in his apartment, eviscerated...

{{GM}}Ng swallows, grimacing at the painful memory.{{/GM}}

He'd been torn apart. His head had been ripped completely off, and most of his skin flayed away. There was so much blood it took us a week to clean out his apartment.
{{GM}}Tang nods, running his palm over his forehead.{{/GM}}

The rest have been the same. Always at night. Always dismembered. Each scene is like a nightmare.

And every time, nobody has seen anything. It's like a ghost.
The same thing that happened to the rest of the victims. Evisceration and dismemberment.

We sent a guard to keep people out of his shop, but he'll let you in.
When did he die?
Some time early tonight. He'd locked up his shop, but Ip stopped by to ask him about some skillchips he had. The door was unlocked, and inside...

{{GM}}Ng lifts her hands helplessly. She opens her mouth, but no words come out.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Seeing Ng's inability to continue, Ip takes over.{{/GM}}

...Inside looked like a bad horror sim. Just like all the other murders.

It had to have happened after sundown, because I saw his shop was open when I was on my way to get some noodles for dinner.
Why didn't you call the police?
The Hong Kong Police Force isn't welcome here. They've tried to force us out several times before, or come hunting for someone to pin a crime on.

We do a lot of favors for local gangs and triads - handle their matrix security, fix up their gear, and make sure they have access to the Hong Kong shadowlands hub.
We're too valuable a resource for them to lose, so they protect us when the HKPF or anyone else decides we're an easy target. They handle our physical security, and we make sure to send the message via the Matrix.

The last time the HKPF made trouble, we started airing the Assistant Chief's dirty laundry over the trid. They got the picture and backed off.
{{GM}}Ng shrugs helplessly.{{/GM}}

Not that I can think of.

We keep to ourselves. We buy and sell technology. We're not mercenaries or criminals, we're merchants and deckers. And even if someone was cheated in a deal, this kind of response is unthinkable.
Whatever did this, it wasn't human. The violence and savagery... It's a monster, whatever it is.
Plenty of metahumans are monsters too, Ng. Just because it's horrible doesn't mean it's supernatural.
{{GM}}Is0bel snorts derisively.{{/GM}}

They make the rules, and kick people out who don't obey them. They're a bunch of petty tyrants, that's what.
You're being unfair, Is0bel. Our laws are for the good of the community.

{{GM}}Tang turns to address you.{{/GM}}

We keep the Whampoa and its residents safe. We review trade agreements with outsiders, to see if they're good for the community. We provide a guiding vision - like a town council.
I can respect that.
Rules are made to be broken.
You people are really weird.
I'm glad you understand. This community is fragile, and the authorities bear us a lot of ill will.

A single misstep could spell our end.
{{GM}}Elder Ip laughs, quickly stifling it as Ng and Tang give him a dirty look.{{/GM}}

I can see why Is0bel is on your team. You and she are very much alike, I suspect.
{{GM}}Ng bows her head and spreads her arms wide.{{/GM}}

Our ways may seem strange to you, but they have sustained us for many years. I do not expect you to understand.
I am the Invoker-of-Sprites. I commune with the spirits of machines, ask them for blessings, and pass those blessings on to the people here. I heal the sick and ensure the feng shui of our habitats is as good as it can be, given our confines.
She's a shaman, that's all. She's just got some kooky spin on it. Claims her totem is some kind of all-encompassing machine god that lives in circuitry.

{{GM}}Is0bel pats her deck, looking at Ng.{{/GM}}

Ancient gods and ancestors are one thing. My deck? It's mine. I built it. The only spirit it's got in it are the ESPs I load it up with.
{{GM}}Ng gives Is0bel a look of deep sadness.{{/GM}}

Just because you cannot see or touch a thing does not mean that it does not exist. Just because you do not believe in it does not mean it does not protect you from afar.
I can't touch programs, either. But at least I can prove they have an effect on the physical world. Your superstitions are just that: bullshit.

{{GM}}Is0bel glances at you, jerking a thumb toward Tang.{{/GM}}

This guy treats drones like they're living things.
Is that right?
What exactly do you do, Tang?
{{GM}}Tang extends his arms, palms up. As you watch, the tattoos therein shift into a complex mathematical formula.{{/GM}}

I am the First and Glorious Servo. I study patterns, repair machinery, and teach others how to attune themselves to the wonders of automation. The Blessed Autofab is my shop and purview - where we make the drones we use and sell.
Really? What a fascinating and spiritual spin on things.

{{GM}}Racter inclines his head toward Tang.{{/GM}}

I'd be interested in hearing more about your philosophy, once we're done with the job. I think I may find your perspective to be very interesting.
As for me, I serve as the Resplendent Voltage Spike.

{{GM}}Ip smiles crookedly.{{/GM}}

That means I shoot people who try to screw with us. It's a fancy title for "head of security."
It might be wise to ask the residents of Whampoa Garden if they've seen or heard anything, after you've gone to Tong's Sensory Carnival. They may have seen or heard things we have not.
Good to know.
Is there anything we can do for you, $(l.name)?
Why did you let the HKPF into Whampoa Garden last month?
Why didn't you tell me about Elder Magpie disappearing?
I found this necklace down in the sewers. Is it Magpie's?
I'll be going now.
{{GM}}Tang is taken aback by the question. For a long moment, he says nothing. When his composure does return, he speaks deliberately and with great care.{{/GM}}

We generally don't let the police into Whampoa Garden, it's true. But in this case we made an exception - the police were very polite and offered to look the other way over some of our deals with the Loho-Jowah Pirates.
They also made it clear that if we refused, they might not only take an interesting in our deals with the pirates, they would call in the Special Duties Unit and force their way in.

We have repelled the Hong Kong Police Force before, when they've tried to push us around.
We could probably drive off the Special Duties Unit as well, but the cost in blood would be too high.

{{GM}}Ng shrugs noncommittally.{{/GM}}

Since they weren't hunting a Whampoan, we saw no reason to refuse their request.
Who were they here for?
So what were they doing in Whampoa Garden?
They didn't say, and we didn't ask. The HKPF isn't exactly forthcoming about their business, and we've found that the less we know about their interests, the safer Whampoa Garden is.

When you take an interest in the police, they return the favor.
As far as I know, they went into the parking garage, there was a gunfight, and the police never came out.

More showed up a few hours later, looking for their missing officers. We didn't let those in, though - we just delivered what was left of the bodies to them.
Why didn't you let them in?
We were willing to allow the group of four in, because they asked politely. When the reinforcements arrived, there were over thirty of them.

We couldn't risk the rest of the police setting up camp in our streets. It would have been a circus, and disrupted our lives and business.
Why would we have? Her departure from the Whampoans isn't related to your investigation - it happened before the killings began. I'm certain she's just off sulking somewhere.

{{GM}}Ng's tone is profoundly indifferent.{{/GM}}

No doubt she'll come waltzing back next month, all full of attitude that life dared to go on without asking her permission.
If she does, we'll welcome her back - despite our problems with her behavior, her skills make her extremely valuable.

I've taken over maintenance of our Matrix infrastructure in her absence, but I'm nowhere near her level. The best I can do is ensure nothing breaks down until she returns.
I'd like to take a look around her shop. Do you have the key?
She could be responsible for the killings. Not mentioning her seems like a major oversight.
Yes. But there's a lot of sensitive equipment in there, including our community servers. We don't let anyone who's not one of the Whampoan Elders in there.

Why would you need to look around there?
{{CC}}Decking: $(story.global_skillcheck_medium){{/CC}} Magpie's automated systems might have access records for the killer's wireless devices. If I can get a dump of the access logs, I might be able to find the killer.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(story.global_skillcheck_easy){{/CC}} Listen, you wanted me to find a killer. If I'm going to do that, I have to explore every possibility.
I found this necklace in the sewer. If it's Magpie's, maybe she didn't just leave.
I guess I don't really need to get in there.
I was under the impression the killer was most likely a monster or animal of some kind. All the bodies have been marked with bite and claw marks.

Are you suggesting we're dealing with something sentient? That seems unlikely.
I'm not convinced the killer is a monster, no.
Tong wasn't killed with teeth or claws. He was killed with a bladed weapon.
I found this necklace down in the sewers.
Very well. Take the key and look around. Just don't break anything or shut the servers off.
Was there anything else?
{{GM}}Tang cocks his head, confusion washing over his face.{{/GM}}

A bladed weapon? How do you know?
His spine was severed between the 5th and 6th cervical vertebrae. Scoring on the bone would indicate a knife or a sword.
{{GM}}Tang looks to Ip and Ng, his mouth twisting down into a grimace.{{/GM}}

This... complicates things. Take the key, then... But don't break anything, and don't shut off the servers.
{{GM}}Elder Ip turns the necklace over in his hands, and handing it back after a moment.{{/GM}}

That definitely belonged to Magpie. Here, take the key to her shop and look around. Just don't break anything, and don't shut off the servers.
{{GM}}Ng recoils, expression incredulous.{{/GM}}

Magpie? I doubt that very highly. Whatever character flaws she might have had, she was a pacifist when it came to physical violence.
What evidence do you have of that?
Well, I still need to look around her shop. Do you have a key?
Well, for one, she really wanted me removed from the council of Elders. She said I was too prone to violence.

{{GM}}Ip snorts, shaking his head in annoyance.{{/GM}}

I guess she never saw all the times I kept the Red Dragon from robbing her blind.
I agree. Magpie would not resort to murder over personal disputes.

The entire idea is ridiculous.
Let me ask you about something else.
Very well. What would you like to know?
{{GM}}Elder Ip turns the necklace over in his hands, and handing it back after a moment.{{/GM}}

That definitely belonged to Magpie. Here, take the key to her shop. Just don't break anything, and don't shut off the servers.
Welcome back, my friend. What news do you have for us?
I found your killer. He's dead.
The job's done.
{{GM}}Ng's relief is palpable.{{/GM}}

Excellent! We can sleep soundly for once, without looking over our shoulders. We are in your debt.
That's what you paid me for.
About that... He told me a pretty interesting story before I killed him.
I'm glad you see it that way. We're in your debt for solving this problem for us.

Please, come back to Whampoa Garden any time.
{{GM}}Ng's face pales. She grits her teeth, slowly enunciating her reply.{{/GM}}

I'm certain the killer would have said anything to shift blame. Perhaps we can compensate you a little extra for your trouble?
Thanks very much. I'd like that.
We'll be very happy to add a little... extra... to your fee. For all the hard work you've done.

And, of course, the discretion for which you're known.
{{GM}}As you approach, Elder Ng's eyes widen. Her mouth falls open, and the veins on her neck bulge.{{/GM}}

What are you doing?! You've brought this... THING... into our home! Quick, kill it before it kills us!
{{GM}}Porter hefts his pistol warily, but does not aim it at anyone.{{/GM}}

Yeah, I have to say... This isn't a good idea. Why the hell is a ghoul in here, and why is it wearing armor?
Calm yourselves. I am not an 'it' - and your Elders know this, intimately.

{{GM}}Gaichu bares his teeth in a rictus grin as he turns to face Ng.{{/GM}}

Good evening, Elder Ng. I can smell your fear... And I'm glad of this. It means you are learning the price of betrayal.
Whoa, whoa... What the hell is going on here?! Can someone explain to me why the ghoul is talking?
Gaichu had a contract with the Elders, and they betrayed him.
The Elders have been lying to the rest of the Whampoans.
{{GM}}Attack{{/GM}} You know what? Let's just kill them, Gaichu.
You dare to accuse us of conspiring with a monster and covering it up? You're insane!

The very idea is preposterous.
{{GM}}Porter nods at the Elders, looking back to you with a wary expression.{{/GM}}

I'm interested to hear what kind of evidence you have to support this theory, $(l.name). As far as I can tell, this monster killed Tong and the others, and that makes him a threat that should be eliminated.
The Elders hired Gaichu to kill Elder Magpie and make it look like she disappeared.
They died because they betrayed Gaichu rather than pay him for the killing of Elder Magpie.
You believe this vermin? This creature that feasts on metahuman flesh, that kills and dismembers our tribesmen? You are a naive and foolish $(l.man), if that's the case.

{{GM}}Ng spits on the ground in front of Gaichu.{{/GM}}

What proof do you have that Magpie is dead?
Ng, please.

In matters where an Elder is accused of breaking our law, the other Elders generally judge them. In matters where all of them have been accused, I am authorized to act as a judge.

Make your case, shadowrunner.
I found Magpie's necklace in the storm drains.
There was a large amount of blood in her shower drain.
She hasn't been seen in a month, not by anyone. She wouldn't just disappear like that.
{{GM}}Porter takes a moment to examine the necklace. He nods at you.{{/GM}}

This is definitely Elder Magpie's. If you found it in the storm drain, that's suspicious... But hardly proof on its own.
Of course it's not proof. The number of things lost down storm drains in Hong Kong must number in the tens of thousands per year. And I'm certain that necklace isn't unique, either!
So what? Perhaps she cut herself, and washed the cut off. Or perhaps you are mistaken about it being blood.

You're simply guessing as to what happened!
That's true. It's a guess. And even if it is her blood, that doesn't prove that the Elders hired this ghoul to kill her.

{{GM}}Porter gives Elder Ip a sidelong glance.{{/GM}}

The Elders have always protected Whampoa Garden to the best of their ability.
That may be unlikely, but it's hardly impossible. You haven't established that the Elders were involved - all you've done is make suppositions about it.
What proof do you have that we hired and betrayed this creature? I won't sit by and listen to idle accusations without any kind of concrete evidence to back it up.
What about the fight with the Hong Kong Police Force?
How do you mean? What does that have to do with the Elders and the ghoul?
The evidence in the garage points to a fight with someone using a sword.
This is a piece of Gaichu's armor I found in the garage. The markings on it prove it.
You Whampoans don't allow police inside the area. Why make an exception this time?
We allowed the police into Whampoa Garden because they were hunting someone. They never told us who or why they were looking for their quarry. It didn't have anything to do with us.
{{GM}}Gaichu hisses through clenched teeth, addressing Porter Lam.{{/GM}}

I was only in the garage to collect payment from them. The ordinary residents were warned of the HKPF's arrival and were gone by the time I arrived.
That's... suspicious, I admit.

{{GM}}Porter regards the Elders for a long moment.{{/GM}}

It still doesn't prove the Elders knew it was the ghoul.
{{GM}}You point out the armor's markings to Porter, and he nods with some satisfaction.{{/GM}}

This is from his armor, definitely. But how does it prove that the Elders knew of the ghoul's existence?
The police officers were abnormally armed and armored, with much heavier gear than a normal patrol. They were armed with armor-piercing, discarding sabot rounds. That's hardly standard issue. Lesser weapons wouldn't have broken that armor plate.

If all they were looking for was a common fugitive, why be prepared for a fight of that magnitude?
Obviously, THEY knew what they were searching for.

That doesn't mean we did.
The police were polite, and asked our permission to enter. They were hunting a non-Whampoan. That was reason enough for us to allow them in.
{{GM}}Porter considers this for a moment, and then shakes his head.{{/GM}}

That doesn't add up, Ng. Why would the police ask us for entry now? They've never been polite before, and they've always tried to force their way in here. It just doesn't ring true to me.

Did you ask them to come? In order to hunt down this ghoul?
Preposterous! Porter, you know what our community is like. We wouldn't lie over something like this.

This ghoul has been lying the entire time, trying to cover his tracks. He's still brutally murdered several Elders!
That's true. Those murders were vicious and cruel.

{{GM}}Porter fixes you with a hard stare.{{/GM}}

I don't see any way to explain that away. This ghoul is a monster for how he killed Tong and the others.
Tong's body was a mess, true. But he died quickly, from a sword blow to the neck.
Tong wasn't tortured. There was no astral residue of pain or fear. He didn't even feel the blow.
The scene of Tong's murder, like the others, was a deliberate sham. It was made to look more horrific than it was.
I struck Tong down with a single blow from my sword. The mess made of the body was to send the Elders a message, but I had no desire to make Tong suffer. At any time, Ng and the other Elders could have made amends, and the killings would have ended. Instead, they hired a shadowrunner to kill me.

It's not about cruelty. It's about sending a message.
That's... not what I would have expected, looking at the body. You killed him before you dismembered him?
That's right. And I killed the other Elders in a similar fashion. There was no cause to prolong their suffering. The message was for the living Elders, not the dead.

If the Elders wished to treat me like a monster, I would terrorize them like one until they paid reparations for their mistake.
Come on, you can't possibly believe this crazy story! It's absolutely insane.
That's correct. I struck a single blow while his back was to me. His death was instant. Regrettable that he had to die for your folly, Ng, but necessary to protect my reputation.
{{GM}}Ng glares at Gaichu in stony silence before addressing Porter.{{/GM}}

You cannot believe what these people say. They are not to be trusted. And even if this is true, he still killed Tong.
{{GM}}Porter looks back at Ng, his expression flat and without emotion.{{/GM}}

Maybe so, Ng. But a monster would not take Tong's suffering into account. He may be a killer, but he's not heartless.
I believe you. The blood smeared on the walls... The removal of his skin... That's a scene designed to evoke horror, not the scene of an actual fight.

Elders, what do you have to say in response?
This is a farce. We have dedicated ourselves to protecting the Whampoan Tribe and everyone who lives in Whampoa Garden. Do you really believe outsiders and monsters over our word? We who have only tried to end the killings?

You've been duped, Porter. You and this shadowrunner.
I concur.

Porter, you know me! You know the kind of person I am! I wouldn't be party to the killing of another Elder!
I can't believe we're even entertaining the notion that we have to defend ourselves. We should be disposing of this ghoul instead!

{{GM}}Tang narrows his eyes at you, hissing.{{/GM}}

If you think I'll forget this, you're sorely mistaken. I will not tolerate this kind of insult.
The Elders were all too happy to have the Red Spears move into the garage. Almost like they wanted to keep anyone curious about the fight away.
Magpie's gear was missing - obviously missing. Why didn't Ip tell me that? He would have had to have noticed, and Magpie's shop is locked up. Why didn't he want me investigating?
That's all I've got.
That's right... Ip, you even told me not to go find out what happened with the fight. You said the Red Spear gangers were moving in, and to leave them alone.

Why would you tell me not to look into it?
I was only trying to protect you from the Red Spears! They're dangerous, which is why I wanted to deal with them directly.
Pure supposition! You think it proves something that I didn't notice equipment was missing? Magpie's shop is always a horrible mess!
...Tang, you did a full inventory of Magpie's matrix servers. You assured us everything was running fine and you would be able to continue her work.

I find it hard to believe you missed something as obvious as missing equipment, especially while searching her stock.
All right.

I think I have some idea of what's going on here.
We would never lie to the Whampoans! Our role is to protect this community, not lie to it.

What proof do you have to back up your claims?!
{{GM}}Gaichu flexes his fingers, claws scraping against each other.{{/GM}}

Oh, excellent. I have been waiting for this.
And? What do you believe the real story is?
It's obvious to me that you've done only a minimal amount of investigation. What's more, you've made a mockery of our request to eliminate a dangerous killer, and he's completely fooled you.

How you could be duped by such a flimsy story and believe such a dangerous creature is beyond me.
Thank you, Porter.

You disappoint me, $(l.name). You're obviously a fool and a poor choice for hired help. I regret ever contacting you.
Very well.

In order to protect the Whampoa Tribe, I sentence this ghoul to death. I also sentence the shadowrunner to die as well, as such a dangerous individual who is so easily swayed could one day turn against us.
Now, wait just a minute, Ng...
Porter! Do as you're ordered! We are your Elders!

{{GM}}With that, Ip raises his weapon.{{/GM}}
The waters are muddy on this matter. The ghoul seems to be telling some of the truth, and I respect that. But the fact remains: he is a dangerous creature who's killed many of our number.

Our law is clear on this - he must die. You seem to be blameless in this, $(l.name) - what do you say to this decision?
I'm not going to let you kill Gaichu.
You're right. He's too dangerous to let live.
Then you, too, must die. Ip!

{{GM}}The Whampoans ready their weapons.{{/GM}}
Unfortunate, then, that I will defend myself to the death.

{{GM}}With that, the Ghoul draws his weapon.{{/GM}}
Gaichu seems to be telling the truth.

Elders, too many facts don't add up. You are obviously hiding something - possibly a great deal - from the rest of the tribe. I'm sorry, but I have to take you into custody until the community can decide the extent and manner of your punishment.
Death would seem appropriate to me. Especially given that they kept up this charade even to you, one of their most trusted citizens.
Don't you dare talk to me like that, you disgusting beast!

{{GM}}Ip begins to raise his weapon.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Porter reaches out to stop him. Ip reluctantly stops.{{/GM}}

Ip, no. Don't make this any worse than it is.
{{GM}}Porter turns to face you.{{/GM}}

Thank you, $(l.name). I'll make certain that justice is meted out. You are free to go, and I will ensure payment is delivered to you - so long as you take Gaichu with you. I can't have him staying here.
He'll be coming with me.
Expert Drone Repair Kit
An expert drone repair kit that repairs 30 HP.
Brent Shirkey's Robes
Refurb UCAS Shock Gear
UCAS milspec, customized for the shadows.
Dr. Taylor's Door Code
>98144
Your commlink chirps. It's Kindly Cheng.
Hello, Auntie.
Yes, ma'am?
$(s.name) here.
Hello, my darling!

{{GM}}There's a thrill in her voice that you haven't heard before.{{/GM}}

Come see me at once! I have something I want to show you.

Your crew is already here.
Come to the mahjong parlor, my darling! I have something I want to show you.

Your crew is already here.
Come to the mahjong parlor at once, $(l.name)! I have something I want to show you.

Your crew is already here.
I'll be there right away.
What is it?
What's my crew doing there?
You sound excited, Auntie.
Very good, my sweet. Very good.

I'll see you shortly.
Something I can't show you over the comm.

{{GM}}Her voice get testy.{{/GM}}

Now hang up and get over here.
Waiting for you.

{{GM}}Her voice get testy.{{/GM}}

Like I am now. So hang up the comm and get over here.
{{GM}}She lets out a cold little chuckle.{{/GM}}

Oh yes, my sweet. Yes, I am.

I'll see you shortly.
Hellstorm Barrier
Set 5 Heavy Cover barriers that last 3 RNDS. Anyone that enters takes -12 HP and -1 AP DMG.
Matrix Jack-In
{{GM}}Jack in.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Have Is0bel jack in.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Leave.{{/GM}}
Heightened Access Employee ID
This is a Wuxing ID with elevated security clearance. It has been granted near unlimited access to the building, and should get everywhere you need to go.
Slick Decker Outfit
Fuchi's line of urban wear used by street deckers.
The cleanroom echoes with your footsteps as you approach the capsule containing the ASIST surgical couch.

Through the window, you can see that the last eight years have not been kind to Raymond Black. The trauma of the last few days is readily apparent. The pasty pallor of his skin and the white growth of stubble on his chin make him appear far older than sixty-five.
He lies unconscious, his chest barely moving, his eyes sunken, and his jaw slack. Carefully applied gauze dressing on his balding head surrounds a gleaming metal port - a datajack.

A thin bundle of wires runs from the jack to the device mounted to the capsule wall.
Oh my god.

{{GM}}Although his voice is small, it echoes loudly through the cleanroom.{{/GM}}
Ray?
Dad?
Raymond? Can you hear me? It's $(s.firstname).
{{GM}}Knock on the capsule.{{/GM}}
There's no reply.
Don't be in a coma, Ray.
Crap. Is he in a coma?
Not... in... a coma.

{{GM}}Raymond opens his eyes and through the capsule window, you can see his dreamy smile.{{/GM}}

Old... tired.

Hello, $(l.honorific) $(l.lastname).
You must be disoriented from the ASIST programming. Looks like I got to you just in time.
He must be disoriented from the ASIST programming. Looks like we got to him just in time.

No time to catch up right now, $(l.name). We've got to move.
Hello, Ray. It's time to get out of here.
We've got to go. I'm gonna get you out of there.
Let's get back to the boat. I have questions, and I want some answers.
He must be disoriented from the ASIST programming. It appears that we got to him just in time.

There is no time for discussion, $(l.name). We must move.
Duncan?
$(s.firstname).
Sorry to disappoint you. It's $(s.firstname).
I'm here, yeah.

{{GM}}Wu glances at you apologetically.{{/GM}}

$(l.firstname) is here, too.
{{GM}}Raymond opens his eyes with a dreamy smile.{{/GM}}

Hello, $(l.honorific)... $(l.lastname). Good to...see you.
{{GM}}Raymond opens his eyes with a dreamy smile.{{/GM}}

$(l.firstname)? You... you came.
Don't be... an... idiot. I'm not disappointed.

{{GM}}Raymond opens his eyes with a dreamy smile.{{/GM}}

Thank you... for coming, $(l.honorific)... $(l.lastname).
The old man's breathing changes, and you see movement under his eyelids. He slowly becomes conscious.
$(l.firstname)?

{{GM}}Raymond opens his eyes. Blinks a few times at you.{{/GM}}

We have to go... I left Prosperity... in the Walled City.
{{GM}}Raymond opens his eyes. Blinks a few times at you through the capsule window.{{/GM}}

$(l.firstname)... you came.
Dart Launcher
... ...
Slow I Slow I
Decreases the target's Movement by 2 for 3 RNDS. Diminue le Mouvement de la cible de 2 pendant 3 RNDS.
Slow: Movement -2 Slow: Mouvement -2
Acid Bolt IV Acid Bolt IV
A conjurer's best acid bolt. Does damage over time to the target. Le meilleur trait d'acide d'un invocateur. Applique des dégâts sur la durée à la cible.
Basic Matrix Attack Attaque Matricielle de base
An arrow of fire that does 7-11 HP of damage. Une flèche de feu qui inflige 7-11 HP de dégâts.
Slow II Slow II
Decreases the target's Movement by 4 for 3 RNDS. Diminue le Mouvement de la cible de 4 pendant 3 RNDS.
Slow: Movement -4 Slow: Mouvement -4
The man in front of this stall is rooting through a box of music chips with the swift fingers of someone who knows what they're looking for.

Behind him, a music player pumps out a constant stream of distorted, atonal music. The stall's proprietor is nowhere to be seen.
Can you believe this? They've got four bootlegs of Echelon Sixty, the unreleased Enoch Ian Keys double chip show from Brazzaville, but absolutely zero chips from Shotgun Bloom.

This stall's stuff is purely second-rate.
Hey, man! Don't get down on Echelon Sixty. I saw them when they played that unlicensed show at the old Choco-Tart factory out in Tsuen Wan.

The show was amazing, even if the police had to break it up midway through the second set.
{{GM}}The music afficionado waves his hand dismissively.{{/GM}}

The show might have been great, but come on. Echelon Sixty's old news. They're already being mainstreamed - I saw a trid ad for the new Mitsubishi Ostro scooter, and they were using 'Main Volt Under-Bus' as the backing music.

Made me sad, I tell you.
You're right, that does suck. Shotgun Bloom's one of the best bands I've heard in years, easy.
{{GM}}The music afficionado nods enthusastically.{{/GM}}

See, your friend gets it! Real talent, that crew. Like nothing I've ever heard before!
{{GM}}The decker inclines his head politely toward you.{{/GM}}

Moe Jnebi, at your service. Decker, technologist, music fan.

You're not from around here, are you? You don't hold yourself like a native.
Not Whampoa Garden, no.
I'm from the UCAS.
{{GM}}Moe runs a hand through his hair, shaking the collected rain off of it.{{/GM}}

I thought so. What brings you out here?
I'm trying to find out who's been killing the Elders.
Just here to do some shopping.
{{GM}}The decker pauses a moment, face falling.{{/GM}}

Oh, that's a nasty business. I heard Tong died tonight. I don't know who or what they pissed off, but it seems like a really bad scene. I'm trying to keep my nose out of it.

Still... I like this place. Is there anything I can do to help?
Well, this place has anything tech-related you can think of. You want more mundane stuff, this isn't really the place.
Hey again. Anything I can help you with?
What can you tell me about the Whampoans?
Know anything about the murders?
What's your area of expertise?
Magpie's shop is missing a lot of gear. Know anybody who might be fencing it?
See you later, Moe.
We're a collection of freaks, geeks, nerds, and tech junkies. This place may look like a third-world bazaar, but believe me: we have stuff here that's cutting edge in almost every field.

{{GM}}Moe swells with pride, and plants both hands firmly on his hips.{{/GM}}

Maybe it's not as advanced as the stuff the megas have in their development labs, but it's as advanced as anything you can find in a store.
People come from all over the world to buy and sell here, and work out deals for big shipments. We've got contacts with every pirate and smuggling group in the South China Sea, and every major syndicate and gang in the Free Enterprise Zone knows not to mess with us.

Not only are there a lot of us, nobody wants to lose what we're selling.
The Red Dragon made a play four years ago, but we chased 'em out.

{{GM}}Moe gestures with both hands as if shooing away a bothersome insect.{{/GM}}

Scooted off back to Ho Man Tin, and they've never been back.
Good for you. That's how you survive.
That sounds dangerous. You must have pissed them off.
It's all about playing the angles. Yeah, it pissed 'em off, but then we sold goods to the Yellow Lotus at a discount. In exchange, the Yellow Lotus kept them off our back. You don't have to beat up the big guy to win. You just have to make him step back so the other big guys see he's off-balance.

Stand up fights are for the megas. We're about survival, just like everybody else in the shadows.
I'm trying to stay as far away from it as possible. I'm not connected enough to hear anything important, and all the talk about monsters is just plain dark. I'm not afraid of monsters, but I don't want to get their attention.

All I know is that a couple of months ago, we had Elders Nakamura, Yetunde, Gan, and Magpie. And now we don't.
Magpie? I've never heard of Magpie.
I've heard about Magpie. Sounds like she was kind of vicious.
Well, Magpie may not be related. She disappeared a month or so ago. Just up and closed her shop one night, and nobody ever heard from her again. Zippy thinks she's on vacation, but I don't know.

These killings started right after she disappeared... So maybe she's in hiding, and is taking care of the other elders one by one.
Why would she do that?
What kind of a person was Magpie?
To be blunt? She's a hateful, shrewish old badger of a person. It was always her way or the highway. She'd butt heads with the other elders over damn near anything.

The last fight she had was with Tang over something or other - I guess she ended up throwing some of his micro-drones into a deep-fryer and threatening to "kick his ass around the block."
What was her line of business?
Matrix gear. Her shop's called The Jackpoint. Not very imaginative, I know.

She always had the hottest programs, best chips, and made some killer decks for anybody willing to pay her rates. It cost plenty of nuyen, but she was one of the best in the business - at least in Hong Kong.
If you want to know more about her, you should talk to Zippy. He's one of the only people around here who got along with Magpie.

You can probably find him by the MTR station. He loves the steamed bun cart over there.
I'm a decker. I used to be a company man for years... Pushing code on their servers, smearing the little cyberpukes that would try to get into our secure systems. I made a pretty good living. Had my own place on the 48th floor in a corporate skyscraper.

It was the kind of thing the sims teach you everybody reaches for. The dream life.
How'd you end up here?
That sounds like hell on earth to me.
So what went wrong?
I found out the company wasn't what I thought it was. Sure, they paid me well and kept me in creature comforts. But I accidentally looked over some mis-filed reports while cleaning out a company datastore.

Turns out one of the company security riggers had gotten drunk and blabbed about some project or other being over-budget and behind schedule. That's not good - it'd be a fireable offense, right?
{{GM}}Moe purses his lips, his gaze going distant for a moment.{{/GM}}

Well, I guess upper management was worried that info would hurt their stock ratings by a fraction of a point or two. So they fired the guy. With a .308 round, right through the skull.
That seems drastic.
You should have known that's how the corporations handle problems.
Wait, they shot him? Over a fraction of a point?
It may only have been fractions of a point, but that was still tens of millions of nuyen. I guess that went beyond a firing offense, directly into murder territory.

What's worse, since I now knew about both the project and the murder, I could be next in the firing line.
I knew I wasn't worth the expense to hunt down, as long as I kept my head down. So I came out here, looking for like-minded deckers.

I guess I ended up staying because I could get a semblance of community out here, and I couldn't get that many other places.
Well, I sure as hell know it now.

You get a wake-up call like that, it'll really open your eyes.
{{GM}}Moe chuckles, running a hand through his hair.{{/GM}}

Well, it wasn't so bad at the time. But in the long run, I think you're right. I'm not as comfortable out here on the edge, but I'm a lot happier.
In Whampoa Garden? No way. Most people are too shit-scared of Magpie to pull that, and I'd definitely recognize anything of hers. She watermarked every program, and engraved every chip. Wanted people to know where the 'good stuff' came from.

There's not a lot of places to hide that kind of gear around here. We're all packed pretty tight, and this place gossips like a mahjong parlor at teatime.
If I were you, I'd ask any other "outsider" types you can find if they've heard something. Nobody local would risk bringing Magpie's ire down on them - or the rest of the Whampoans. We might cheat other people, but we don't steal from each other. Anybody who gets caught doing that would get kicked out, or worse.
PLACEHOLDER
Venom Spray Venom Spray
Direct on-going venom damage attack Attaque infligeant des dégâts de poison direct et sur la durée.
Novatech Slimcase-10 Novatech Slimcase-10
Tailored for aggressive decking the Slimcase has an upgraded basic attack but with a lower IP rating. Adds 15s when hacking Blocker IC. Adapté pour le decking agressif, le Slimcase possède une attaque basique upgradée mais avec un indice de protection IP inférieur. Ajoute 15s lors du piratage d'une Blocker IC.
Combat Medic Armor Armure de combat de médecin
For medics on the go. Built-in biomonitor. Grants +1 Intelligence, +1 Move Speed, and +1 Biotech. Pour les médecins de terrain. Incluant des bio moniteurs. Octroi +1 Intelligence, +1 Move Speed, et +1 Biotech.
ArmTech MGL-6 ArmTech MGL-6
Ranged Combat: Portable grenade launcher that fires mini-grenades. 2 AP to reload. Combat à distance: Lance-grenades portable projetant des mini-grenades. 2 AP pour recharger.
Chemical Barrel Baril chimique
Mana Charge II Mana Charge II
Concentrates mana from the surrounding area to provide an effect similar to a medium leyline. Lasts for 3 RNDS. Concentre la mana de la zone environnante pour fournir un effet similaire à une ligne-ley moyenne. Dure 3 RNDS.
Mana Charge 2 Mana Charge 2
Hellstorm Barrier 2 Hellstorm Barrier 2
Set 4 Heavy Cover barriers that last 3 RNDS. Anyone that enters takes -10 HP and -1 AP DMG. Applique 4 Barrières de Couverts Lourds pendant 3 RNDS. Quiconque les traverse subit -10 HP et -1 AP de dégâts.
Simple attack program to destroy IC integrity. Programme d'attaque simple pour détruire l'intégrité des IC.
Subdue Soumettre
Duncan can subdue and zip tie a stunned enemy, taking them out of the fight. Duncan peut soumettre et ligoter un ennemi assommé, le sortant du combat.
Maintenance Worker Préposé à l'entretien
Toilets and boilers, that's what I handle. And that one boiling toilet. Les toilettes et les chaudières, voilà ce que je gère. Et celui la à boiling toilet.
Wind Blast I Wind Blast I
A powerful blast of wind. Une puissante explosion de vent.
Old Watch Vieille montre
A battered old watch that your biological father gave you when you were a kid. One of your few physical links to your childhood in the Redmond Barrens. Une vieille montre à pile que votre père biologique vous a donné lorsque vous étiez enfant. Un de vos quelques liens physiques de votre enfance dans les Barrens de Redmond.
Flame Breath Flame Breath
A breath of fire that causes -10 HP DMG and does -4 HP DMG that last for 2 RNDS. Un souffle de feu qui provoque -10 HP de dégâts et fait -4 HP de dégâts pendant 2 RNDS.
On Fire: HP -4 per RND On Fire: HP -4 par RND
Stealth Suit Combinaison furtive
An Ares stealth suit that grants +1 Dodge and +1 Movement. Une combinaison furtive d'Ares qui octroie +1 Esquive et +1 Mouvement.
Wild Aim II Wild Aim II
Increases the target's to hit chance by 10-15%. Does not stack, nor affect AOE abilities. The next closest ally will also be affected. Lasts 3 RNDS. Augmente les chances de toucher de la cible de 10-15%. Ne se cumule pas, et n'est pas affecté par les capacités d'AOE. L'allié le plus proche est également affecté. Dure 3 RNDS.
Aim: Accuracy +15% Aim: Précision +15%
Aim: Accuracy +12% Aim: Précision +12%
Aim: Accuracy +10% Aim: Précision +10%
ESP Matrix Attack Attaque matricielle sur ESP
Simple attack program to destroy ESPs. Programme d'attaque simple pour détruire les ESP.
HKPF Enforcer Exécuteur HKPF
Shock Hand Main électrifiée
Uses the Close Combat skill for accuracy and Unarmed for critical chance. DMG: Strength + 2. May do AP DMG on critical hits. Allows for an enhanced Stun attack on a 2 RND cooldown. Utilise la compétence Close Combat pour le toucher et Unarmed pour les chances de critiques. Dégâts: Force +2. Peut faire des dégâts AP sur un critique. Permet un attaque étourdissante renforcée avec un temps de recharge de 2 RNDS.
Auto Turret Auto Tourelle
Ares High-Explosive Grenade Grenade hautement explosive d'Ares
Top of the line remote mine. Mine à distance haut de gamme.
{{GM}}Frederick looks desperate. Intense. Ready to erupt into violence at the slightest provocation.{{/GM}}

We gotta get through this... whatever it is.
He turns away, resuming his vigilance.
That's close enough, friend. The club is members and invites only. I suggest you just move along.
Gotcha.
Come on man, my friends are already inside. Can I just go look around for a second?
No.
Like I said, members only. Shove off.
{{GM}}Like most troll bouncers, this man is knotted with muscles. But absent are the myriad scars that come with age or indiscretion. His only blemishes are the bony skin growths common to his kind, and a single deep scar across his neck and collarbone.{{/GM}}

You watch yourself in here, or else we check your aerodynamics.
How do you mean?
And just what will you do if I don't?
Aerodynamics?
Anyone causes trouble, I see how far I can throw them.

No fighting. No killing. No sex trade.
{{GM}}He lifts an arm, flexing. His muscles jump out like a mass of serpents and steel cabling. His arm is easily as thick as most humans' waists.{{/GM}}

I don't mess around.
You need something?
I suppose not.
The young troll bouncer manning the door is in the midst of patting down a prospective patron with enough force to dislocate a shoulder or hip, while other shady-looking patrons walk idly past him, into the club.
{{GM}}He waves the shaken man inside, propelling him forward with a final pat on the back.{{/GM}}

People don’t realize that you gotta check for internal weapons as well as external ones.
And you know how to do that?
You can’t possibly feel an implant.
Are we talking the rubber glove treatment?
I've got it down to a science.
You just need the right technique. Matter of fact, I caught a guy just last week with a phosphorous grenade in his leg compartment.
And what did you do?
Disarmed him, of course! Got it back behind the bar now. I'm gonna blow it off in the river. Impress some girls.
You looking for a pat-down yourself?
I'll be good. I promise.
No, just information.
Are you getting fresh with me?
You break that promise, and I break you. Now what do you want?
Are you a member of the family that owns this place?
Are you running any business on the side?
Why are you searching some people, and letting others in?
I'll leave you be.
Sure am. Frederick Ka Fai. Some call me Freddy. Most call me “Shit, no! Please stop!” Or something along those lines.
I’m also the current record holder for the Club 88 Pitch-and-Toss. Which is to say, I throw deadbeats harder and farther than anyone else around these parts.
High water mark is that piece of tape over yonder. Guy was an ork, too. Hefty. But he simply soared that day...
Naw. I may take the occasional payment to look the other way or be in the can when a fight breaks out. But I have enough on my plate that I can’t really take on much else.
Training, you see. I love what I do, but you gotta work hard to stay in peak condition. I’ve also got some next steps in mind, so I’m working even harder toward that. Big plans. You just wait and see.
I also play the drums.
This is a private club. There's three kinds of people I let in: members, guests of members, and people who make a good case.

The latter two get a really good search before they go in the door, unless they're with Kindly Cheng or the Emperor of Japan or something.
I don't care if someone has a cyberspur or a holdout pistol or whatever, but we can't have serious weapons on non-members inside.

Ma sells some big stuff, but she puts electronic trigger-locks on her merchandise until they're out the door - so people don't get dumb ideas.
This is a no-assassination safe zone. Serious weapons go into the weapons check. Unless you're a member.

That way, if a big firefight ever breaks out, the members will have the upper hand.
We keep the killings very rare. Most happen when some members get all fried up, and decide to settle score with box cutters or something.
So I'm a member now?
You work for Kindly - as a shadowrunner, no less. That makes you a member.
Remember the rules: No fighting. Unless, you know... it comes down to that, and you're ready to skip off the concrete.
No killing either. If you've got legitimate killing business, go do it somewhere else. People come here to have a good time.
Got it. C'est fait.
You're really just trying to minimize collateral damage, aren't you?
Good.
Pretty much.
Doubt I can help you much there, but I'll try.
Ha! You're all right. You need anything, you let me know.
Sure you can!
No, no, no. Nothing so crude.
What do you want now?
{{GM}}Frederick Ka Fai stands stolidly by the club door, his arms folded across an impossibly large chest. He eyes those entering and leaving the club like a god might look down from Olympus, and he smiles while doing so.{{/GM}}

Hey, $(l.name). Been hearing more about you.
Yeah? What’d you hear?
I suppose I'm not doing my job right then.
My ears have been burning...
Oh, this and that. Probably all misinformation or slander. You tell me.
I heard you might’ve killed some guy. Or maybe a couple dozen guys. Maybe even that you’re a terrorist. Not sure that one fits, but you do look like a heavy-hitter.
Maybe so.
The heaviest.
I'm a lover AND a fighter.
I had a feeling.
And you’re in the right company with me. You know they call me the Untouchable? Never taken so much as a scratch. Of course, my snot brother says it’s because people are afraid to hurt me, else they might lose face with our parents. As if that would ever stop some of these punks, am I right?
Not a scratch.

{{GM}}He pulls up his taut T-shirt, revealing a thick layer of form-fitting body armor below it.{{/GM}}

Of course, things that get stopped by this stuff don't count as scratches.
Handled some rough customers, have you?
Tell me more about your family.
How much do you bench press, Frederick?
It’s what I do. Think about it. Inside, my brother sells the kinds of things that would make a Buddhist monk turn psychotic. And then in back, my Ma is selling enough firepower to blow the roof six times over.
In other words, we sell petrol and matches. And yours truly is the firefighter. But this firefighter ain’t never been burned. No, not once. Pretty impressive, right?
You just let me know if you’re needing some additional muscle. You can call on Mr. Untouchable to get the job done.
You may think I’m impressive. And sure, my brother Callum and my Ma both work hard to keep this place afloat. But people don’t realize things about my Ba. He’s not just some old sailor. You want to know the secret?
He was a pirate. One of the very best. Over twenty years at sea, and he was never caught. Untouchable, just like me.
You ask him about it, and he’ll deny it. I’m sure he’s made enemies over the years. Gotta play it smart. Keep his past a secret. But I figured it out a long time ago.
He’s a great man, my Ba. That’s why I gotta be strong, to live up to his example.
I don't bench press. I do dumbbell presses. They're more functional. The bench press artificially stabilizes things too much.
But to answer your question, when I do bench, I max out around 700 kilograms.

{{GM}}He grins confidently.{{/GM}}

That's double the current world bench-press record for unmodified humans, by the way.
Knew I liked you for good reason.
Club 88 caters to both.
Don't sweat it. Your secrets are safe with me. Though I do wonder if what I've heard is legit.
I've actually seen that happen. A little lighter fluid and FWOOSH! But that's another story entirely. I want to know about these rumors.
I've messed up some troublemakers in my day. You itching to be one of 'em?
{{GM}}The younger of the Ka Fai sons mans his post at the club’s front door. He’s showing off his hulking arms to a couple of wan-looking girls from the docks. Their clearly self-interested fawning gets them inside with no cover charge.{{/GM}}

I know what you’re thinking. Some perks, right?
For them, maybe.
Distractions. And distractions can be dangerous.
If you're into this sort of thing...
Who? Those girls. Pah, they're harmless. Having some fun with me.
Hey, all this stuff around here... it's all just fluff, anyway.

You know that. I know you know that. You’ve got the eyes. Doing what you do, you know what’s what and what ain’t.
We’re the same, you and me. People in here may look the part, but it’s different with us. We’re legit. We’ve got that edge. Everyone else is just a poser.
Have you done anything other than bouncing?
You fancy yourself a shadowrunner?
It’s not about what I’ve done. It’s about what I can do. I’ve got potential. I just need to prove it, and show my Ba that I can do what he used to do.
This cushy life, it’s not for me. I’m capable of so much more. Ma won’t ever see it, but I know my Ba will understand. He’s not meant for this kind of a life either. You know it. You’ve talked with him, right? You see it in him. Once a badass pirate, always a badass pirate.
Gotta be the same with you, right? Can’t ever see yourself going back to a normal life. Shadowrunning is where it’s at.
I want to be... something. Shadowrunner, sure. I see you and your types roll up, hard-edged like you are. I can see myself doing that.
But there’s also the triads. Lots of guys get their start that way. Work their way up, some of them starting out as regular gangers. I’d be looking to jump a few rungs right off the bat, of course, considering who I am and who my Ba is.
But I think my Ba would be most proud if I followed in his footsteps. Join up with a pirate crew. Be a scourge of the open sea. I know it’s in my blood. I just need to let it out.
I couldn't agree more.
That's just it. I'm really not. It's fun for a while, I guess.
Types like us got to stick together.
{{GM}}Freddy Ka Fai is showing off some fresh ink to everyone who passes inside Club 88. On each forearm he has tattooed an anchor. He demonstrates how they look in various poses, from flexes to his standard arms folded across his chest.{{/GM}}

Not bad, right? Someone told me that only real sailors get tats like these.
I figure it’s appropriate either way, seeing as how my meathooks hit like a pair of anchors.
I'll take you at your word on that.
Let’s hope they don’t weigh you down.
Sailors also eat lots of spinach.
You getting cute with me, $(l.name)? Because you know, I’ve been letting you strut about with your arms on account of respect for what you do. Don’t go making me rethink that.
Because someday soon, this guy here is going to be part of a crew you wouldn’t want to tangle with. We’ll make you walk the plank or something.
You’re serious about joining a pirate crew?
Have you talked with your father about all this?
Hell yes! And not just any pirates. The most exclusive group out there on the water. The Hell Thunder Crew. I heard about them last week. They only take orks and trolls, like me. Tough bastards, too. Men to be feared.
It’s the perfect operation for me to join. And I’m sure they’ll take me, especially when they learn who my father is. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were inspired by him in the first place. Not many troll pirates back in my Ba’s day.
In fact, I bet they make me first mate or something just for being his blood.
No, I want it to be a surprise. Don’t want him feeling like he forced me into the family business. By which I mean piracy, not this fluff we’ve got going on here.
Doesn’t take a genius to see that my Ba has no love for the club. I’m a little afraid he might be jealous when I tell him I'll be shipping out. I know he misses it. The adventure. The thrills.
I can picture it all. Unfurling the black sails. Running up the skull and crossbones. Chasing down a fleeing ship and then swinging across to plunder her hold.
Yeah, I know it's not like that. These days, it's speedboats with machine guns, climbing up rope ladders in heavy seas, and ship-jacking... but hey, that's what I'm cut out for.
I've got a heart for the sea, but I'm not afraid of hardship and hard work and fights.

I don't work out just to look good and bounce drunk smugglers.
Yaar! How was that?
{{GM}}Freddy looks sullen at the club’s front entrance. And sullen on the young troll takes the form of careless indifference for the force he uses to pat down and propel forward the patrons entering the place.{{/GM}}

Welcome to Club 88. No killing, no fighting, no sex trade.
Careful, Freddy. You’ll give someone a concussion.
You're looking pretty lax with your duties here.
You haven't suffered a psychotic break, have you?
Or a broken rib. Or a dislocated shoulder. Fuck it.
What does it matter? Things might be better if I drove everyone off and shut down this place. Can’t be forced to stay a bouncer if there are no bums to bounce, right?
And it might just force the rest of them to take a hard look in the mirror. My Ma could stop worrying about bills and inventories and all that crap. Callum could finally get out of here and save his own skin. And my Ba could go back to doing what he was born to do, and change his mind about me doing it, too.
What’s the deal with Callum?
Your father found out about your plans?
What? You haven’t figured it out? You’ve talked with him, right? He doesn’t belong here any more than I do. But for different reasons.
Callum’s not hard enough to survive in a place like this. If this city doesn’t kill him one night, him drinking away his worries probably will, before long.
Funny thing is, I thought that once I got out and made my fortune, I could set Callum up someplace nice. But that’s not going to happen now, thanks to my Ba. He’d rather see us both waste away here.
Yeah. He heard me talking to someone about how I might link up with the Hell Thunder Crew. He got real mad. Dragged me aside, like he was trying to pull my damn arm off.
Thought we might come to blows. It would be the first time since I was a kid, and I could probably kill him now, if I’m not careful. But he just wanted to yell at me. So much the better for his health.
He told me I was living in a fantasy land. He told me I wasn’t cut out for the life I was looking to lead. He said it would get me killed. Pah!
Worst part. He asked me why I can’t be more like my brother. Just goes to show how little he knows about us. Callum isn’t even cut out for the cozy life we have here in the club.
What do I care? Bring in all the weapons, explosives, and outside food and drink you want.
Break? I'd love to break everything around here. And everyone.
I don't belong here any more than Callum does. Wish my Ba could see that.
{{GM}}The young troll bouncer is as far from alert as he’s likely ever been. Men and women pass through the front door without earning even a glance from Freddy. He just taps away at the screen of a tablet, oblivious to the world.{{/GM}}
You taking a break, Freddy?
Something on that screen more important than your job?
I think someone just carried in a nuke, Freddy.
Uh huh...
Snap out of it!
Eyes front, soldier!
Earth to Freddy!
{{GM}}He finally looks up.{{/GM}}

Oh, it’s you! Sorry about that. Just making some final arrangements.
My father thinks I’m not ready for the big time. He thinks I’m not strong enough, or resourceful enough, or whatever. But I’m proving him wrong already.
See, I got it all figured out. The Hell Thunder Crew has been spotted to the south mostly, out among the islands there.
The Star Ferry Service operates all through that region. So I just need to head down to Stanley and start hopping ferries until I hear the drums. They play the drums. Did you know that? That’s why I’ve been practicing!
I’ve got a plus-sized capsule reserved at the Dynasty Mansions in Stanley, and I got enough cash to cover that and the ferry rides for about two months. And get this, Stanley is also known as Chek Chue, which means Bandit’s Post. Why? Because of pirates! It’s a sign, I’m telling ya.
I’ve also got a lead on someone with the Tolo Vory down there, who may be able to help. He’s got connections inside Yamatetsu, and they pretty much run the Marine Department these days. They monitor the ships coming and going, so if pirates hit, they’ll know. And once they know, my guy will make sure I know.
It’s all coming together. I’ll show my Ba what I’m made of. I'm leaving as soon as I get my loose ends tied up.
Solid plan. Best of luck finding them.
I’m not so sure about this, Freddy.
I think this is a bad idea. Piracy's a bloody trade with a short life-expectancy.
Don't do it, Freddy. I don't think piracy is in your blood.
Thanks. I’m glad someone around here agrees.
Maybe I’ll see you around, the next time you’re out on the water. Just listen for the drums!
Take care, Freddy.
What’s not to be sure of? I’ve it all figured out. I can find these guys. I know it!
But what if they don’t want to be found?
But... but they’re trolls, like me. And they’re pirates, like my Ba. Are you saying they might not take me? Or worse?
Shit. Now you got me all confused. I suppose I don’t have to leave immediately. One more day to stew on it won’t matter much.
Just sleep on it, Freddy.
What do you mean? Out of anyone, I'd expect you to understand.
That's what I'm saying: I steal and fight for a living. It's not a glamorous.
What are you saying? You’ve heard me talk about my Ba, back in his glory days. It’s got to be in me somewhere.
I don’t think your father was actually a pirate. Just a smuggler.
What’s the difference? I mean, it’s all the same, isn’t it? Isn’t it?
Something else on your mind?
{{GM}}Freddy Ka Fai greets all comers at the front entrance of Club 88. He performs his duty with renewed vigor, much to the dismay of anyone looking to enter with all their dental fillings intact.{{/GM}}

Well, well, well. Back again.
Good to see you, too.
I got to thank you for what you said before. I think you saved me from a big mistake. A huge mistake.
I talked things through with my Ba. He leveled with me about his past. Yeah, he had his secrets, but they weren’t the kinds of secrets I thought they were. No glorious pirate career.
In fact, he told me some things about that crew I was looking to join. Shit that would make you turn white.
Doesn’t matter now. My Ba and me are good. We’ve come to understand each other.
And get this. We’re going to build a boat together. He’s going to teach me everything he knows. And when we’re done, we’re going to take that boat out together. Just two sailors, out on the water.
If I still want to go to sea, he's going to help me study for an able-bodied seaman's certificate. If I get it, he's going to reach out to some of his old mates, who are still on boats.
I'd start as a deckhand, but the more I think about it, I'd rather earn my way up by pulling a hawser, than pull a trigger that's just handed to me.

And hell, those tugs are armed for a reason. Maybe one day I'll even make the Hell Thunder Crew cause wish I was on their deck.
It’s going to be good. And it’s because I listened to you.
Glad I could help.
Wasn't anything.
More people should.
Thanks again, bud.
{{GM}}Freddy Ka Fai greets all comers at the front entrance of Club 88. He performs his duty like a professional. No more fooling around, no more fantasies. The patrons note the difference and show him a new sort of respect.{{/GM}}

Good to see you back, $(l.name).
Listen, I need to thank you for what you said before. I think you saved me from a big mistake. A huge mistake.
My Ba is gone. Not sure where or why. I didn’t realize how much he was hurting. And I didn’t realize how different he was from the picture I had in my head of him.
I’ve learned things recently. He wasn’t the pirate hero I thought he was. He was just a man, and not always the strongest one.
That’s why I stayed. I have to be the strong one, for my Ma.
So thank you for getting me to think twice. I don’t know what would have happened if I had left. But I know I probably would have never come back.
Just hope my Ba does someday.
Me, too. Take care of yourself, Freddy.
{{GM}}Frederick watches the street with a stolid, sullen diligence. He shoots you a glance, clearly pre-occupied.{{/GM}}

I've got a lot on my mind.

{{GM}}Frederick cheerfully stands watch, but barely goes through the motions of controlling the door.{{/GM}}

Soon I'm gonna be in a different world.
I'm just watching the door.
Chainshot
Three bullets. Three targets.
Renraku Skillwires
A simple skillwire system designed to give the user more control over their reaction times. Passive: +1 Dodge.
Magpie's Stockroom Keycard
A keycard to Magpie's secret stockroom.
Corp Mage
Made for CorpSec but can be found on the street.
The Mechanic
Wear this when the most important thing is drones.
Heals yourself or a friendly target for 20 HP.
Mind Wipe
Target ignores all enemies. Lasts 2 RNDS.
Mind Wiped: Ignores All Enemies
Encephalon
A processor that boosts a user's knowledge-based skills. Passive: +1 Intelligence.
{{GM}}A open program tracking food orders and their respective tables flickers steadily on the computer screen.{{/GM}}
*AccuServe from Renraku*

SHANGRI-LA RESTAURANT
{{GM}}ENTER NEW ORDER.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}SERVERS' NOTES.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}CHECK ORDERS.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}MANAGER'S NOTICE.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}EXIT.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}A menu pops up with options to view or place orders. Following the menu is a dining room chart that's been broken down into servers' zones. A large "comp" button in the upper right hand corner has a lock icon over it. Seems people were being too liberal with the free drinks.

Unfortunately, it looks like you need a server's code to place an order.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Inside this file is a series of notes on guests and the restaurant's operations.

You scroll through today's notes. Several servers have written about their concerns regarding tonight's lack of security, and a couple are frustrated with the curious guests wandering up to the second floor's private dining rooms.

The rest is useless information.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}A list containing dozens of orders pops up. Only a handful are for the upper floor's private dining rooms.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}One note on a second floor order stands out.{{/GM}}

Floor: 2, Private Room: 3
VIP Party of Five
>>Standard Seafood Buffet: 1
>>Wine Sampler: 3
>>Crab Rangoon: 6
>>Shangri-La Prawns: 2
>>Surf & Turf: 1 (NOTE: NO PRAWNS. AVOID CROSS CONTAMINATION WITH SHELLFISH. DINER IS ALLERGIC.)
{{GM}}Nothing but your typical wage slave directives in here. There are a few mentions of curtailing "recreational activities" in storage rooms and on outer decks. One can only infer the meaning of said "activities."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Farther down, a note in red expressly warns that the special guest on floor two should be served by approved wait-staff only, and if the guest's orders are botched again, there will be "significant and widespread consequences" for all servers involved.{{/GM}}
Dark Flame (Seeker) Dark Flame (Seeker)
A line of fire controlled by the caster and directed at one target. Une ligne de feu contrôlé par le lanceur et dirigé sur une cible.
Drain: HP -4 per RND Drain: HP -4 par RND
Mana Charge I Mana Charge I
Concentrates mana from the surrounding area to provide an effect similar to a small leyline. Lasts for 2 RNDS. Concentre la mana de la zone environnante pour fournir un effet similaire à une petite ligne-ley. Dure 2 RNDS.
Mana Charge 1 Mana Charge 1
Waves Upon the Shore Vagues sur le rivage
The middle attack in the Water Stance chain. L'attaque du milieu dans la chaîne de la Position de l'Eau.
Wires are sparking dangerously just above the doorway.
{{CC}}Intelligence: 2{{/CC}} {{GM}}Patch the worn-out wire coating.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Rip the offending wires out of the wall.{{/GM}}
Is0bel, can you fix this?
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}}
A quick patch job with some nearby waste rubber leaves the wires safe once more.
The problem is gone, but not necessarily resolved.
Sure, it's just basic electrical work. I patch cables in my deck all the time.
As the smoke clears, Qian Ya's voice musical voice fills your ears. The sound of it is incongruously beautiful.
Let the meaninglessness of their deaths serve to seal our arrangement. Leave this place, $(l.firstname) $(l.lastname) - there is nothing here for you now but sorrow and pain.

Step beyond the boundaries of our Queendom, and reap the benefits of our benevolence. Fourteen years of good fortune, just as we promised.
The price was too high.
I'll hold you to that.
There is always a price, mortal. For everything.

Now go, and do not return. This place is *ours,* now and forever.
You will not need to. We honor our promises.

Now go, and do not return. This place is *ours,* now and forever.
"DO NOT ENTER."
GRAND OPENING COMING 2057
Avalanche Avalanche
It's a painting with a plaque beneath it. It reads;
"The Lady of Shalott / 1888".
You are about to leave this location and return to Heoi. Continue?
These firearms are relics as well. Maybe of value to a history professor.
Throw Grenade
Heal targets (With cleaning shrapnel).
THE DIG LA FOUILLE
This job is a golden opportunity, in more ways than one. A raid of the in-development museum, the Emperor's Tomb.

The museum's claim to fame is its location. It rests on top of ancient catacombs, where an excavation is underway to convert them into the museum proper. Intel has it that the workers are dying. Not from on-site accidents, but from magical disturbances in the area. Despite the hazards, development continues.

Your client, Mr. Drake, contacted you to retrieve two tomes. Probably ancient. Magical. Priceless. But it won't be a smash in the park. You have to get to the tomes before they're catalogued, where they'll afterward be near impossible to access.

As you near the museum, its height and grandeur looms unsettlingly over you. Even unfinished, it's reached an imposing size. At least that means it has plenty of room for pricey antiques. The best part? Mr. Drake needs this run to look unprofessional. Shattered glass and looting is encouraged.
New Actor Nouvel Acteur
Preternatural Corpse Cadavre surnaturel
Mummified Corpse Corps momifié
Gargoyle Gargouille
HKPF Captain Capitaine de HKPF
HKPF Guard Garde de HKPF
HKPF Sniper Sniper de HKPF
Camera Caméra
Watcher IC Watcher IC
Blocker IC Blocker IC
White IC IC Blanche
Find Both Ancient Books Trouver deux Livres Anciens
Steal ¥5,000 Worth of Artifacts Voler pour une valeur de ¥5,000 d'artefacts
Steal ¥10,000 Worth of Artifacts Voler pour une valeur de ¥10,000 d'artefacts
Do Not Trip The Museum Alarm Ne pas déclencher l'alarme du musée
You died. Tu es mort.
Wipe the Security Logs Effacer les enregistrement de sécurité
Escape S'échapper
Golden Boy Golden Boy
Comfortable, with pockets for all your tools. Grants +1 Intelligence and +1 Drone Combat. Confortable, avec des poches pour tous vos outils. Octroi +1 Intelligence et +1 Drone Combat.
Fire Barrier Mur de feu
Set 5 Medium Cover barriers that last 3 RNDS. Anyone that enters takes -10 HP DMG. Applique 5 Barrières de Couverts Moyens pendant 3 RNDS. Quiconque les traverse subit -10 HP de dégâts.
Shoot Remote Mine Tirer sur la mine à distance
Fires a remotely detonated shell that can damage adjacent targets. May miss and skew to a nearby tile. Tire un obus explosif à distance qui peuvent endommager les cibles adjacentes. Peut manquer et toucher une case proche.
Ganger Mask Masque de Ganger
Shamanic Salve Baume chamanique
A simple magically prepared salve that heals 4 base HP, and a further 4 HP per RND for 3 RNDs. Consumed when used. Un simple baume magique préparé qui soigne 4 HP, puis de nouveau 4HP par RND pendant 3 RNDS. Consommé lorsqu'il est utilisé.
Salve: HP +4 per RND Salve: HP +4 par RND
Shield Lvl 1 Shield Lvl 1
Incoming damage from attacks is reduced by 25 for 1 rounds. Les dégâts subits des attaques sont réduits de 25 pour 1 tour.
Shield: All Incoming DMG -25 Shield: Dégâts subits -35
Regenerate Régénération
Gaichu's skin and tissue begins reconstructing itself, healing 6 HP per RND for 3 RNDs. La peau et les tissus de Gaichu commence se reconstruire, guérissant de 6 HP par RND pendant 3 RNDs.
Wind Blast III Wind Blast III
A channel of fast-moving water cuts across the platform, separating it from an access hatch at the edge of the raft.
Damn thing is flooded again.
{{GM}}She slams a heel into the deck, her face flushing red in frustration.{{/GM}}

Again!? We just fixed the pumps last week!
Well. It isn't *that* much more treacherous than just walking on the deck is.

{{GM}}He glances at you and Is0bel. Sizes you up.{{/GM}}

You could probably just wade through--
{{GM}}Is0bel cuts him off, a serious look on her face.{{/GM}}

The floor is angled downward here, $(l.name). It's sloping toward the edge.

We can barely keep our footing where it's flat. Trying to cross that gap on foot would be suicide.
Maybe we can find a way to drain the water.
There has to be something else we can do to get across.
Yeah. That pump over there.

{{GM}}She points to a rusted hunk of machinery at the edge of the flooding.{{/GM}}
It's supposed to keep this part of the deck clear, but it keeps breaking down.

I swear, it must've burned through four different fuses in the past two weeks.
We'll try that first. If it doesn't work, we'll have to look around for another solution.

{{GM}}She turns away from the dwarf, sneering.{{/GM}}

One that *doesn't* involve crossing on foot.
Maybe there are other locals up here who can help. It couldn't hurt to look.

One way or another, we've gotta find a way across this thing.
{{GM}}She turns away from the dwarf, sneering.{{/GM}}

One that *doesn't* involve crossing on foot.
Fire Barrier 1 Mur de feu 1
Set 3 Medium Cover barriers that last 3 RNDS. Anyone that enters takes -8 HP DMG. Applique 3 Barrières de Couverts Moyens pendant 3 RNDS. Quiconque les traverse subit -8 HP de dégâts.
In the clearing ahead you find a sobbing middle-aged man amidst a pile of bodies. He's dressed in a cheap suit with a bright yellow tie, but the fabric has been smeared with blood.

He takes notice of you and recoils.
Leave me alone! G-go away!

{{GM}}As he tries to pull away, his mouth drops open. You can see that he's missing at least half of his teeth.{{/GM}}
Can't let them find me... can't let them catch me... have to hide from them, from *her*...

{{GM}}Slowly, methodically, he begins to claw at his own eyes.{{/GM}}
Can't get free. Can't get c-c-clean. When my eyes close, I see them there, twitching, *shaking* like broken things.

{{GM}}He reaches for you with bloodstained fingers.{{/GM}}

Please... please, help me...
Something's scrambled his brains. Might'be been Qian Ya or her servants, or maybe just the stress.

Either way, there isn't much that we can do.
I think that I've seen the things that you're talking about. Crescent-shaped heads, twitching movements?
Who are you? Qui êtes-vous ?
What happened to your mouth?
What's with all the bodies?
The best way that we can help you is to stop all of this.
Sounds like you've gotten what you deserve. We're out of here.
{{GM}}He nods, staring at you through red-streaked eyes.{{/GM}}

Drooling fire and pissing blood. Bodies like the gums of some huge animal. Teeth thrusting out of pink flesh like the thorns on a rose.

Shaking... trembling... and their horrible smiles...
His entire body begins to tremble.

He doubles over, clutching his head and sobbing. The tears spatter down on the mangled corpses at his feet.
We'd better get moving, $(l.firstname).

We need to stop this before those things drive us as crazy as he is.
We'd better get moving, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). We need to stop this before those things drive us as crazy as he is.
We should move on. We need to stop this before those things drive us as crazy as he is.
We'd better get moving, $(l.name). We need to stop this before those things drive us as crazy as he is.
We'd best get moving, my friend. We need to stop this before those things drive us as crazy as he is.
Zhou Si. My name is Zhou Si.
{{GM}}Is0bel jabs you with an elbow.{{/GM}}

I've heard of this guy. Zhou Si is a human trafficker - people sell themselves to him to help their families.

He's basically a glorified slave trader.
Zhou Si doubles over, sobbing and hugging himself.
W-we all did it. To try to keep her away. Just like in the stories.

{{GM}}His eyes well with tears.{{/GM}}

It didn't work. And I d-didn't have the courage to cut out my t-t-tongue.
Th-they came for us. The t-t-trembling things.

{{GM}}He stares at his hands.{{/GM}}

I had to do it. They were making too much noise. I didn't have a choice!
He sobs uncomprehendingly.
He's lost it. In shock, probably.
His mind's snapped.

He must have seen Qian Ya or her servants.
This man is mad, and most likely in shock.

We cannot help him.
Be careful, my friend. This man is obviously mad, and probably in shock. Not a good combination.
Throw Shuriken
Gaichu tosses a shuriken at the target. DMG: 12 HP, 1 AP. Max range: 10.
The disgusting pile of stinking human remains smells strongly of blood and the first stages of decay. The arms, legs, and organs here are heaped together like stacked firewood, leaking blood and gore across the floor. The parts contained therein appear to have been sliced away from the parent body, rather than torn or bitten.

Judging by the clean edges on the cuts, the blade used to sever these parts was extremely sharp.
This is a whole world of messed up, $(l.name).

{{GM}}Is0bel takes a moment to suppress a retch.{{/GM}}

You think the killer stashed these here? They're stacked. They've been organized!
This is our killer, all right.
I've seen plenty of disgusting stuff in my day, but this takes the cake. Look at it. Somebody stacked these parts up like they were making a little larder or something.

Hello, serial killer.
You got that right. Jesus.
Okay, this job has now crossed firmly into "screw this" territory. We're dealing with someone that's really messed up in the head. I say we find this killer, and put two in his damn head.
I have to say, this is pretty nasty.
Hmm. Curious. The arrangement of parts suggests an organized intelligence, but there's no sense of ritual or regular practice in the way they're organized. They're merely placed in such a way as to be conveniently arranged.
Still... This is messed up.
Looking closer at the pile, one part stands out. It's a severed forearm, and it's covered in tattoos. Words in a slavic language and a shining lighthouse adorn the forearm, and ring-like images are inked on each finger. On the back of the hand, there's a skull inside a square.
This arm belonged to a Vor. These are criminal tattoos. The lighthouse shows he tried to escape from prison, or planned to. The words say "All police are dogs." That skull inside a square means he served a prison term for robbery once.
What's a Vor?
A Vor is a thief. The Vory v Zakone is the name of the organization - "thieves in law". They have strict codes, and police their own.

But they don't sever arms and leave them in a pile of gore.
Whoever owned this arm isn't likely to be Whampoan, as the tattoos look like they were poorly drawn and inked by hand, rather than a machine. Most likely Russian criminal tattoos.
Fire Barrier 2 Mur de feu 2
Set 4 Medium Cover barriers that last 3 RNDS. Anyone that enters takes -9 HP DMG. Applique 4 Barrières de Couverts Moyens pendant 3 RNDS. Quiconque les traverse subit -9 HP de dégâts.
Debuff Affaiblissement
Casting Debuff Spells Lancer des sorts d'affaiblissement
A simple magically prepared salve that heals 7 base HP, and a further 7 HP per RND for 3 RNDs. Consumed when used. Un simple baume magique préparé qui soigne 7 HP, puis de nouveau 7HP par RND pendant 3 RNDS. Consommé lorsqu'il est utilisé.
Salve: HP +7 per RND Salve: HP +7 par RND
Kiluminati Alabrad's Armor Armure de Kiluminati Alabrad
Reinforced shamanic armor. Armure chamanique renforcée
An impressive-looking man in a starched white coat blocks the hallway.

He turns, and you recognize the familiar Pastry Magic & More! insignia on his lapel. He fixes his gaze on Is0bel, and the expression on his face is anything but happy.
What are you doing back here? We went over this in the staff meeting this morning - *I'm* the one who's covering this area.

The VIPs are to be handled by managers ONLY. You should be on the convention hall floor!
I got turned around. These hotels all look the same to me.
I know, sorry. They sent me back here, but I think it was a prank.
"I got turned around. These hotels all look the same to me."

{{GM}}Looks like she was telling the truth after her encounter with the guards. She's repeating everything you say verbatim.{{/GM}}
Turned around? There are signs all over the place!

{{GM}}His cheeks slowly begin to turn red.{{/GM}}

What are you doing wandering around back here at all? You should be in one of two places: the show floor or the kitchen. Period.
I didn't know. I'm new here.
I must've missed the meeting - I didn't get those instructions.
"I didn't know. I'm new here."
Yeah, no shit. I don't recogniz--
{{GM}}You become dimly aware of a figure looming behind you in the convention hall.{{/GM}}

New here? You must be joking, $(l.man). You've been on that kiosk for twenty minutes now!
Wait, excuse me? What?
{{GM}}He leans in. Gets in your face. You can taste the onions on his breath.{{/GM}}

I said that it's time to get off the damned demo kiosk! You've been hogging it for way too long, and there's a line here!
Sorry. I'm still using it.
Back down, man. You'll get your turn.
Just give me five more minutes, and it's all yours.
"Sorry. I'm still using it."
Using what? What are you talking about?

You aren't even one of our employees, are you? Do I need to get security?
I *said,* that's enough! I've been following the devs of this software for *months* now, and I traveled seventeen hours to try it out myself.

You do *not* get to tell me that I flew here for nothing. Get the hell off the kiosk or I'm calling security!
Calm down and let's talk about this. This doesn't have to get violent.
Be my guest. I work for this hotel's owner. The security team is going to take my word over yours.
Get out of my face before I break your damned nose.
Oh, to hell with this. Change of plans, Is0bel - we're going loud.
Violent?

{{GM}}He rears back, red-faced.{{/GM}}

*Violent?!* You're *threatening* me?
{{GM}}The decker's PDA flickers to life. A familiar face appears on the view screen.{{/GM}}

Leave $(l.him) alone, Matchstick. $+(l.he)'s with us.
{{GM}}He brings up his wrist to stare at the screen, a frown etched onto his face.{{/GM}}

But $(l.he)'s been hogging the kiosk for nearly a half an hour already--
You'll live. Besides, you're *supposed* to be scoring us water bottles, remember? NovaHott is in dire need of refreshment.
It's true. I'm parched.
...Yeah, all right. Tell her sorry, I didn't think this would take so long.

{{GM}}He shoots you an accusatory glance.{{/GM}}

You'll all get your water soon.
The decker turns his attention away from you, allowing you to return your full attention to your PDA.

On the screen, the catering manager is still staring down at Is0bel, red-faced.
...Well? You gonna speak up and tell me what you're really doing back here? I already know that you're not one of my employees.

You've got about five seconds before I call security.
I'm here to check up on the vendors here at the show - tech vendors, the catering crew, all of it. To make sure that the reputation of our venue isn't tarnished.
I'm here to gauge customer satisfaction with the show. We're trying to decide whether to host DeckCon again in '57. Collecting candid interviews with convention-goers and subcontractors is part of that.
"I'm here to check up on the vendors here at the show - tech vendors, the catering crew, all of it. To make sure that the reputation of our venue isn't tarnished."
...Oh. You're like a secret shopper, that sort of thing.

{{GM}}He stares down at Is0bel, a newfound respect on his face.{{/GM}}

Well. I hope you'll tell your employers that Pastry Magic & More! Catering went above and beyond the call of duty to respect your hotel and its rules.
I, uh... yeah, I will.
The catering manager steps aside to let Is0bel pass.
"I'm here to gauge customer satisfaction with the show. We're trying to decide whether to host DeckCon again in '57.

{{GM}}She levels her gaze at the catering manager.{{/GM}}

"Collecting candid interviews with convention-goers and subcontractors is a part of that."
Was that what this was? Some sort of weird interview?

And I suppose that you were wearing one of our uniforms to throw me off balance, that kind of thing. To see if I'd make a scene.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

Mm-hmm.
Well... I didn't. Please make a note of that in your report.
"Calm down and let's talk about this. This doesn't have to get violent."
Violent? You think I'm threatening to *hurt* you?

{{GM}}He recoils, clearly offended.{{/GM}}

I never said that I would do anything like that! Don't blow things out of proportion!
Look, I'm here to do a job. Get out of my hair and let me do it, and I'll be on my way.
Okay, you've caught me. The truth is, I'm recording candid footage of this convention for the hotel's owners.
I think that there's been a terrible misunderstanding here.
What, are you a tech reviewer, or something? Never mind, don't answer that - I don't care.

If you wanted special time and consideration with the kiosk, you should've arranged that with the devs *ahead of time.* But now you're wasting everybody's time, including mine.
"Look, I'm here to do a job. Get out of my hair and let me do it, and I'll be on my way."
A job?! I don't know what you're here to do, but it sure as hell isn't serving food for my company. You must have stolen that uniform!

{{GM}}He slaps a button on the PDA that he wears on his wrist.{{/GM}}

There. The guards are on their way, you little maniac. Enjoy talking to *them* about this.
There is a moment of deathly silence.

Then Is0bel's voice, calm and steady, sounds in your ear.
$(scene.Global_PCName)... I'm gonna need some backup.

{{GM}}She reaches for her slivergun.{{/GM}}

Kick down the VIP door and hightail it my way, if you wouldn't mind. Things are about to get messy.
Yeah, I'm on it.
Wait. What?

{{GM}}The decker blinks, confused.{{/GM}}

You can't use that footage. Not unless I sign a release form, or something.
"Okay, you've caught me. The truth is, I'm recording candid footage of this convention for a documentary."
{{GM}}After a moment of stunned silence, a huge smile spreads across the catering manager's face.{{/GM}}

Wait. Am I gonna be on a trid show?
No, I understand what's going on here completely. You don't think that the rules apply to you.

I hate people like you. I'm thinking that maybe I ought to get security in here, have them teach you a lesson about sharing.
"I think that there's been a terrible misunderstanding here."
Misunderstanding? I don't think so. There's no way that you're one of my employees. You must have stolen that uniform!

{{GM}}He slaps a button on the PDA that he wears on his wrist.{{/GM}}

There. The guards are on their way, you little maniac. Enjoy talking to *them* about this.
Oh yeah? And what do you do here, exactly?

{{GM}}He stands, hands on his hips, his jaw thrust out.{{/GM}}

Tell me why I have to wait on you.
"Be my guest. I work for this hotel's owner. The security team is going to take my word over yours."
You work for the owner? So, then, you're not a Pastry Magic employee?

{{GM}}He sounds skeptical.{{/GM}}

So, then... why are you wearing one of our uniforms?
{{GM}}The decker continues to stare, hands on his hips.{{/GM}}

...Huh. Well, uh... okay, I guess. Just try to make it quick, okay?

I really want to get my hands on that software, and I'm not leaving until I do.
In the convention hall, the decker that you were arguing with backs away to a respectable distance.
{{GM}}The decker continues to stare, hands on his hips.{{/GM}}

...Huh. Well, uh... did I pass? I mean, did you get what you need from me?

I really want to get my hands on that software, and I'm not leaving until I do... but I don't want my eagerness to get in the way of the show coming back next year.
{{GM}}He bristles with rage.{{/GM}}

Oh, you wanna get physical over this? *Huge* mistake, asshat. I'm not just an enthusiast, I'm a *shadowrunner.*

Last chance. Get out of my way or I'll put you in the ground.
"Get out of my face before I break your damned nose."
The catering manager's eyes go wide. He puffs out his chest and stalks toward Is0bel, screaming.
You will *not* threaten me, you pathetic little rodent! I'm going to haul you out of here *myself!*
Damn right we are. This was a stupid idea to begin with - we should play to our strengths.

{{GM}}The catering manager's eyes go wide as she reaches for her rifle.{{/GM}}
I'll handle things on this end.
The decker in front of you must see something in your expression that he doesn't like.

Slowly, he begins to back away.
Well. This promises to be... interesting.

{{GM}}Koschei rears back on its hind legs. An attack posture. Racter smiles back at you.{{/GM}}

Come, my friend. Let's make some noise.
That's a damned shame. For a second there, I thought that we were gonna make it through this without firing a shot.

{{GM}}He unslings his rifle.{{/GM}}

Oh well. Let's do what we do and get this over with.
Damn. I was having fun watching you tell Izz what to say... it was like something out of a romantic comedy, or a sitcom.

Oh well, it couldn't last forever. Let's go shoot some people, I guess.
It is about time.

{{GM}}The blade of his katana makes a whispering sound as he draws it from its sheath.{{/GM}}

No more foolishness. There is work to be done.
"Back down, man. You'll get your turn."
My turn? What are you talking about?

You aren't even one of our employees, are you? Do I need to get security?
"Just give me five more minutes, and it's all yours."
What's all mine? What are you talking about?

You aren't even one of our employees, are you? Do I need to get security?
"I must've missed the meeting - I didn't get those instructions."
And you think that's an excuse? I don't even recogniz--
{{GM}}You become dimly aware of a figure looming behind you in the convention hall.{{/GM}}

You didn't read the instructions? You must be joking, $(l.man).

You've been on that kiosk for twenty minutes now!
"I know, sorry. They sent me back here, but I think it was a prank."

{{GM}}Looks like she was telling the truth after her encounter with the guards. She's repeating everything you say verbatim.{{/GM}}
And you fell for that?! You had *specific instructions* to stay on the show floor.
SecureTech Armored Clothing
SecureTech's armored trenchcoat. Kevlar is woven into the synth-leather, providing a small amount of protection.
Experimental Tissue Samples
A series of tissue samples from the Omega Sequence #358 D medical storage locker.
Bean Bag Shot Bean Bag Shot
Fires a bean bag round from an underslung launcher. Does 2 AP damage and imbalances targets, making them easier to hit on subsequent attacks. This ability cannot do critical DMG.
Unbalanced Déséquilibré
Bladed Distraction Diversion tranchante
Does +1 AP DMG but reduces HP DMG by 3. Reduced accuracy. Fait +1 AP de dégâts mais réduit les HP dégâts de 3. Réduit le précision.
Wind Blast II Wind Blast II
Tar Bomb Lvl 1 Bombe de goudron Lvl 1
An area-effect matrix attack that deals damage to IC and deckers, and roots them in place for 1 round.
{{GM}}X-Floh nods in your direction as she sees you.{{/GM}}

Hey there. Anything else I can do for you?
{{GM}}A wiry elven woman leans over the bar, propped up on one elblow. She glances back at you over her shoulder as you approach, lifting a half-empty glass to her lips.{{/GM}}

The selection here is total crap, but it's cheap. I hope you're not looking for quality, or you're gonna be really disappointed.
Damn, and I was hoping for some classic cocktails.
As long as I don't go blind, I don't care.
Cheap is better than good.
{{GM}}The woman snorts, and dips her pinky into her drink to fish out a stray gnatt.{{/GM}}

If you ask real nice, I think they've got some tonic water in the fridge. Aside from that, you're as likely to get drain cleaner as you are a splash of bitters. Even a simple Manhattan's probably beyond the means of this joint.
Call me X-Floh, by the way.

{{GM}}X-Floh regards you calmly, her eyes calculating. After a few seconds, she nods.{{/GM}}

Maybe we can help each other.
Nice to meet you. I'm $(s.name).
Maybe we can. Maybe not.
I've got good eyes for people in the business, and believe me, you smell like shadowrunners and nuyen. Plus, everybody here's been talking about Kindly's new hired help.

I'm out here for work. You need any backup, I'm available.
What's your specialty?
I already have a crew, thanks.
I'm what the eggheads call a 'mystic adept' - kind of a physical adept magician. I throw spells, and I can kill with a touch. I'm rarer than unicorns, my friend.

{{GM}}X-Floh lifts her glass, draining the last of it.{{/GM}}

Cheers.
Suit yourself. But I guarantee you none of 'em have the same set of skills I do. Mages and adepts are rare enough, but how many people d'you know that can combine the two?

{{GM}}Holding up a balled fist, X-Floh grins widely.{{/GM}}

Mystic adepts are rarer than unicorns, my friend.
Hey, that's the spirit! With an attitude like that, you won't get disappointed very often.

{{GM}}She raps a knuckle against her glass.{{/GM}}

I figure as long as it gets you drunk, it's good with me.
{{GM}}X-Floh is crouched over the bar, nursing a glass of something brown and unfettered by niceties such as ice or garnish. As you approach, she lifts a hand in greeting.{{/GM}}

Welcome to the party, $(l.name). Hope you're not in the mood for anything fancy. The best you can hope for in here is not to go blind.
Oh, come on. Their moonshine's not that bad.
What, they don't serve anything with fancy umbrellas?
Don't need it to be fancy, as long as it's got a kick.
Not bad? Maybe you've had too much already - it's turned your tastebuds to mulch!

I don't mind crap liquor, but I'd prefer it doesn't taste like somebody's wet socks.
{{GM}}X-Floh stands up, reaching over the bar to pull out an unmarked bottle and a spare glass from the other side. She tops off her own drink, and pours one for you.{{/GM}}

Bottoms up, $(l.name). After the stuff we've been doing, I think we could both use it.
Oh, I'm sure Callum has some umbrellas back there. It's just that the booze they're in probably got cooked up in somebody's bathtub.

And I'm not sure they cleaned the bathtub before they started making it.
{{GM}}The elf cuts loose with a single, sharp laugh, and slaps a palm down on the bar.{{/GM}}

You're a $(l.man) after my own heart, that's for sure. I can drink to that attitude.
Where are you from, anyway?
How'd you get into this life?
Got any good runner stories?
See you later, X-Floh.
All over, really. Born and raised in Sydney, but ever since I was fifteen, I've been traveling anywhere there's work. Not a whole lot of opportunities for a street kid whose only skills relate to beating people up.

I've lived in Paris, London, Vladivostok, Caracas... Hell, I even spent a year in Johannesburg, but Azania is full of assholes.
Your Cantonese is pretty good. I don't hear an accent.
That's a hell of a lot of moving around.
{{GM}}X-Floh taps the base of her neck with two fingers.{{/GM}}

That's because it's chipped. My only concession to cyberwear - when you move around as much as I do, linguasofts pay for themselves pretty quickly. They're not perfect, but they get the job done.
You gotta go where the work is, especially if you don't have a full time crew. Whenever someplace gets too hot, I just move along to where there's more money and less law.

It's not an easy way to make a living, but the idea of being tied down sounds like hell to me.
I was running out of Guangdong for a while, but I was part of a team that lifted some SAM guidance software from Baihu Corporation. One of the team bit it during our escape, and Baihu got their military allies to track down the rest of the team.

{{GM}}X-Floh shrugs, taking a long drink from her glass.{{/GM}}
When the hit team came for us, I manged to get out in one piece. Since I wasn't a full-time member of the team, they didn't have any way to track me.

I still figured it'd be a good idea to get to the FEZ for a while.
I grew up on the streets, running with gangs. Turns out, if you get in enough street fights and have magical potential, things just naturally express themselves.

Once that happened, I realized I could charge a lot more than the protection rackets I'd been running.
Besides, it's not like I know how to do anything else. I've never been to school. I'm SINless. What else am I gonna do, panhandle for change? Shake down Stuffer Shacks for beer money?

No thanks, mate. I'd rather life fast, hit hard, and burn out.
{{GM}}Running a hand through her hair, X-Floh leans back as she thinks.{{/GM}}

Yeah, I got a couple. There was this one time I signed on with some mercs in Eastern Europe. They had a job to do near Krasnodarski Krai, lifting some Abkhazian military software.
The plan was pretty simple - we'd HALO jump from a drone on the Russian side of the border, hike in toward the Abkhazian research facility, and blast our way in. The Abkhaz forces were supposed to be matrix hotshots, but crap in ground combat. Simple, right?

{{GM}}The elf shakes her head, eyes rolling.{{/GM}}
No plan ever survives first contact with the enemy, though. Turns out the Abkhazian army had contracted out base security to Winter Systems. We started getting cut apart before we'd even breached the first cordon.
Did you have to bug out?
Sounds like a suicide mission.
The mercs were in pretty dire straits, financially - it was a do or die situation for them, literally. They owed too many debts, and if they couldn't deliver, they'd have been killed.

So we pushed in. We were down to five of us by the time we got into the main facility.
One of the mercs, Vaclav, was a rigger. We were hunkered down in a vehicle bay while the decker did his business, and Vaclav realized one of the APCs hadn't been properly locked down.

And it was still gassed up.
Came out of that base with the thirty millimeter cannon blazing away. Our exit was down at the coast - a riverine patrol boat the mercs had on standby.

It was some nervous fighting, but we managed to get out. A bit full of holes, sure, but we survived. And that's what counts, hey?
{{GM}}X-Floh lifts her glass in salute.{{/GM}}

See you. You know how to find me if you need me.
Burst Turret
SMG: The professional street samurai's weapon of choice.
The elevator disgorges you onto the mezzanine with little fanfare.

Off in the distance, you can hear the sounds of clinking glasses, carefree laughter, and silverware on china.
We should discuss our approach, $(l.name).

I would recommend searching the apartment as our first course of action. I am somewhat... dubious about the idea of crashing the party. We ghouls are seldom welcome at such events.
Sure, but Neville Ma and Penelope Wong will be *at* the party. If we don't bluff our way in, we can't talk to them.

Doc Shenyang is paying us to find out how Ma is up and walking so quickly after the accident. Talking to the guy would probably be a good idea.
I'm kinda out of my element here, $(l.name). I'm not much of a party person.

How do you wanna handle this? Check the apartment first?
My vote is party. Can we go to the party?
Let's get to that party and see if we can dig anything up.
The party is too high-visibility for my liking. Let's try the apartment first.
We'll play it by ear. I don't know this scene any better than you do.
If you think you can get us in, lead the way.
{{GM}}She rubs her hands together excitedly.{{/GM}}

The catering at these things is always top-notch. We're talking caviar, $(l.name). Booze with gold flecks in it. I think that I might smell pheasant.
How can you be hungry? I just watched you power down a dozen dumplings and a pitcher of oxtail soup.
{{GM}}He shakes his head at Gobbet.{{/GM}}

I don't understand how you can be hungry. I just watched you power down a dozen dumplings and a pitcher of oxtail soup.
Oh, I'm not hungry. Don't think I could eat another bite. But I *do* have a messenger bag and about twenty empty pockets.

{{GM}}She pats the bag at her side.{{/GM}}

C'mon, $(l.name). Let's go mingle.
{{GM}}She shakes her head at Gobbet.{{/GM}}

How can you be hungry? I just watched you power down a dozen dumplings and a pitcher of oxtail soup.
It smells like quite a feast... sweet and unctuous, like duck fat and honeycomb.

{{GM}}He sighs.{{/GM}}

A pity that my preferred dish won't be on the menu.
Hey, you never know. Maybe you'll get lucky.
A... curious choice. Not one that I would make, but it should make for an interesting evening.
That's probably the wisest choice.

{{GM}}He strokes his chin, and Koschei flexes its articulated limbs in anticipation.{{/GM}}

Lead on. We will follow.
I agree. For obvious reasons.

Lead on, $(l.name). We will follow.
{{GM}}She lets loose a wistful sigh.{{/GM}}

All right. If you insist. Go on, lead away.
Works for me. Let's get moving.
Parties, breaking and entering, blackmail... sounds like a good time to me. Wonder if Neville has an open bar?

{{GM}}The rat on her shoulder chirps.{{/GM}}

What's first, $(l.name)? I say we go to the party.
Places like this all have one thing in common, $(l.name). The rich bastards who live in 'em always treat the wait staff like crap. I'm thinking that we could use that to our advantage.

Your choice. What should we do first? Sniff around the apartment, or mingle with the idle rich?
What do you suppose our first order of business should be? I doubt that we'll be welcome at Ma's party, but it could be worth investigating.

{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

Or we could head directly to his apartment and try the door. I'm open to either approach.
Further down the hall, you can see an array of apartment doors.

Another gust of laughter wafts down the hall. Which approach you choose to take is up to you.
A couple of wage slaves amble about their business inside the corporate locker room. One flings a jacket into a locker and turns toward the showers, but is met by your stare. His weary eyes widen in surprise.
Ah! Good evening.

{{GM}}He glances behind him, and, assured by something, turns back toward you with a smile.{{/GM}}

I'm Charles. Haven't seen your face before. Are you new here?
{{CC}}Etiquette: Security{{/CC}} Not exactly. I'm an outside security consultant. Pulling a spot check.
Nah. I'm just here to trash this place.
New to this building.
{{GM}}His back straightens immediately.{{/GM}}

Oh, right! I learned about this in training. Please, tell me - how can I help?
I'm auditing for possible security risks. You know of any in this part of the building?
You've been selected for a random screening. I'll need your ID and credentials, please.
I need your help with a *very* important security drill.
{{GM}}Charles runs a hand through his hair.{{/GM}}

None that I've noticed. Security's normally airtight.

Even the emergency response system is on point. I've been told they have some really high-end fire and blast systems. Doubt you'll find any security risks here.
Of course, of course. Here you go.
Of course! What do you need me to do?
Report to the front desk that there's been a fire in this room.
Report a break-in on the twenty-seventh floor to the elevator checkpoint.
Attempt to access the executive elevator without prior clearance.
{{GM}}He hesitates.{{/GM}}

Isn't it wrong to make a false report like that?
Today's an exception. This may be a drill, but authenticity is important. I'm here to gauge how people respond, so the more believable, the better. Make it count!
Yes, you're right. Of course you are - you're the security consultant!

{{GM}}Charles laughs nervously.{{/GM}}

I'm... I'm sure everything will be fine. You'll see.
Wait for my signal in the lobby.
{{GM}}He gives you a timid nod.{{/GM}}
What!?

{{GM}}Charles staggers backward, aghast.{{/GM}}

I can't do that! I'll be fired on the spot! Or *worse*... no, I can't help you. I'm sorry.
{{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} Non-compliance with this audit *will* result in you being fired. I assure you, everything will be fine. This is just a drill.
Very well. Your response will be recorded in our company report. Thank you, and good day.
{{GM}}His face pales. He swallows hard.{{/GM}}

Yes, you're right. I should have known better. I'm... I'm sure everything will be fine.
{{GM}}His jaw drops, but he quickly recovers and lets out a chuckle.{{/GM}}

You almost had me!

{{GM}}He winks.{{/GM}}

We're all just trying to get by somehow, right?
And I'm trying to break into the upper floors.
I'm not joking. Now hand over your ID.
Glad you got a kick out of the honest truth, bud.
{{GM}}It takes Charles a moment to realize that you're serious. An array of emotions flashes across his face, from humor all the way to fear. He starts to panic and steps back, eyes searching the locker room for help.

His mouth opens and closes, wordless. He looks something like a fish caught on land.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Body: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Easy){{/CC}} This is how it's gonna go. You give me your ID, and I'll let you walk out of here. Refuse, and, well... I guess it's a good thing locker rooms are easy to clean.
{{CC}}¥100{{/CC}} I'll make it worth your while. Take this, and go home early. Have a drink on me. Forget this happened, and grab a replacement card in the morning.
Jesus, Charles. Don't be so gullible. It was just a joke.
Charles gives you a small nod and gingerly relinquishes his Wuxing ID.
{{GM}}Charles sighs.{{/GM}}

I know how that goes. I'm pretty new, myself. Still learning the ropes.
Any tips for a fellow neophyte?
I'm just trying to stay out of trouble. Know any places I should avoid?
Heard this place is pretty strict.
Good luck to you, then. See ya.
Yeah. The upper floors are off limits. *Highly* restricted.

{{GM}}He glances around. Lowers his voice.{{/GM}}

Not sure what's happening up there, but only company execs, security, and maintenance have access.
Are they allowed up there at hours like this?
Do they all have special passes or something?
How often do the upper floors call maintenance?
I don't see why not. They're on call twenty-four seven. But that's not my department, so I can't say for sure.
Gotcha. Thanks for your help.
Any time, friend. Good luck.
Couldn't say. Never been to those floors to check. They could be using special passes, or even scanning retinae. But I think with how often maintenance is called up there, it can't be too time-consuming.
Seems like every hour. You can sometimes hear the workers tromping through the hall. I'm surprised they haven't built an express elevator for the department yet, since they're on call twenty-four seven.
{{GM}}Charles looks up timidly.{{/GM}}

You're back... What else do you need?
Yeah. I'll be needing your ID. Hand it over.
Just passing by.
This box is packed full of odds and ends. It nearly overflows with a collection of knick-knacks, souvenirs, and assorted personal effects. There is no rhyme or reason to the collection of items - they appear to have been thrown in haphazardly.

Among the contents are charms from various temples, a wooden mask, and a paper fan.
{{GM}}Examine the mask.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Examine the charms.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Examine the paper fan.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Leave the box alone.{{/GM}}
The wooden mask is extremely light. It's been painted a pale white, and the surface is almost as smooth as porcelain. Delicate features and lifted eyebrows are matched with bright red lips and delicately carved teeth.

The teeth have been stained a deep black.
The small charms are square cloth packets, each approximately one inch wide and three inches tall. They come in a variety of bright colors, and are embroidered with characters for prosperity, peace, wealth, and protection.

Inside each appears to be a folded paper prayer or fortune, written in Japanese.
Unfolding the fan, you tilt it up toward the light to examine it. The image depicts an East Asian city from the 19th century or earlier - curved roofs at sunset, beside a deep blue river.

Two ships sail down the river, which is in turn spanned by a long wooden bridge.
In the foreground, laborers carry buckets along the shore as a man on horseback rides in the opposite direction. In the distance, a pair of large red buildings dominate the city skyline - one large temple hall, and a five-tiered pagoda.
As you step away from the box, you hear a slight click in the distance - the sound of the door's latch shutting.

You are no longer alone in the stockroom.
Security Override
A digital authentication, it won't open any doors. It does grant certain access on Wuxing's intranet.
Still invitation only, $(l.sir).

{{GM}}He peers at you critically over the rim of his glasses.{{/GM}}

And if you're one of the desperates who've conveniently "left their invitation in the car," don't expect to make it any farther than where you're standing.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(story.global_skillcheck_medium){{/CC}} Are you kidding me? I was just in there talking to Kevin Chiu. Don't tell me you've already forgotten my face!
{{CC}}Item: Party Invitation{{/CC}} Here you go.
Let me keep looking...
{{GM}}The security guard pauses. He leans forward and scans your face, his expression uncertain. After a moment, he steps back.{{/GM}}

Yeah... Yeah, I remember you. Talking to Kevin Chiu. Terribly sorry, $(l.sir). Won't happen again.
{{GM}}He takes the invitation and scrutinizes it. He then looks at you, reluctance plain on his face.{{/GM}}

Enjoy the party, $(l.sir).
{{GM}}He points behind you.{{/GM}}

Door's over there. Show yourself out.
Heckler & Koch G12A3z
Full auto mode disabled.
Punch
An unarmed melee attack that adds +1 to DMG.
Salish Pendant
Keeping tribal roots while working the shadows.
Aimed Shot
Increases accuracy by 15%. Pierces up to 2 Armor. Shares a cooldown with other Aim attack abilities.
Urban Mystic Outfit
Aztechnology made clothing for street mages.
Thaumaturgic Armor
Clothing for that traditional mage look.
Basic Blaster 1.0
A well-muscled and heavily tattooed triad member looks up from his PDA, bored but alert. Behind him, other Yellow Lotus soldiers take notice and turn to leer at you.
You're in the wrong neighborhood, tourist-boy. You and all your little tourist friends.
I'm a local, jackass. I work for Kindly Cheng - we all do. Show some respect.
{{GM}}The triad soldier sneers at her.{{/GM}}

That so? Then you already know that you shouldn't be here. That fossil doesn't run things 'round here anymore.

{{GM}}His hand strays to his jacket and a conspicuous bulge in the fabric. Could be a gun, a knife, or a blackjack.{{/GM}}
Best get moving, little girl. Best move before we hurt you all *real* bad.

I'm not gonna tell you twice.
We're here to deliver a message to Strangler Bao.
Relax. We're just here to check in on the local merchants.
Nothing. Sorry to bother you.
{{GM}}He pauses in mock consideration.{{/GM}}

Hmmm... no. I don't think so. We haven't been told to expect anyone.
{{CC}}Charisma: 3{{/CC}} Look. This is a message directly from Kindly Cheng to Strangler Bao. They're both above your station. You wanna stand in the way of that?
Let me through.
Screw this. We're leaving.
I sure as hell wouldn't.
{{GM}}The Yellow Lotus soldier's mouth tightens.{{/GM}}

This is a trick. You're just trying to get close to Bao so that you can put a bullet in him.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Gang{{/CC}} If Kindly Cheng wanted Bao dead, you wouldn't be talking to me. You'd be dead, and an army of Kindly's soldiers would be kicking in his door.
No, man. We don't do wetwork.
We're just couriers. All that we want to do is put a memory stick in your boss's hands and blow.
I'd listen to $(l.him) if I were you. You turn us away, you might piss Cheng off enough for those soldiers to come knocking.
{{GM}}The leer drops off of his face. He seems to deflate.{{/GM}}

You say you have a message for Bao, okay. You go through. Just keep your hands where we can see 'em.
Uh-huh.
Sure, sweetheart.
Get lost, tourist.

{{GM}}He turns away.{{/GM}}

You don't talk to us again, understand? Try to pass by my boys, and we'll punch holes in you until daylight shines through.
We're walking in there. It's either gonna be past you or over you. Your choice.
All right. We're leaving.
$+(l.man), you don't listen, do you?

{{GM}}A cruel smile spreads across his lips.{{/GM}}

Now I'm gonna have to get my clothes all bloody.
No. I don't think so. You don't get near Strangler Bao.

{{GM}}He turns away.{{/GM}}

And you don't talk to us again either, understand? Try to pass by my boys, and we'll punch holes in you until daylight shines through.
Yeah. Hey, you have a *great* day.

{{GM}}He wiggles his fingers at your back, smirking. The soldiers standing behind him begin to laugh.{{/GM}}
The merchants belong to Bao now.

{{GM}}He waves you off.{{/GM}}

Get lost.
I'm a local. I work for Kindly Cheng. Show some respect.
You're in the wrong neighborhood, tourist-girl. You and all your little tourist friends.
We told you to get lost. You didn't listen.

Now I'm thinking that you need to be taught a lesson.
You guys ready for some serious bashing? The flow's going to be all sorts of troubled when we're done with it.
Just don't forget to check all over. We'll want to scour the whole floor before we move on - leave no chair unturned, so to speak.
And we still need a way to access the temple upstairs. Right now we can't get near it.

If we play our cards right, it could be some time before Wuxing realizes we've manipulated the flow in places other than the atrium level. So be subtle here, and save the real destruction for the temple.
Yes. This feels like a good place to begin our assault on Wuxing's qi.
I think we've found our maiming grounds. I'm ready if you are.
This is as good a place as any to start shaking things up. We have to disrupt all the qi we can, so look carefully for opportunities to wound this corp.

{{GM}}Duncan gives you a sideways look.{{/GM}}

We're, uh... supposed to handle this floor with subtlety. Not my forte... so why don't you take point? I'll have my turn when we get to the temple.
You got it.
This feels like a good place to get started. We need to disrupt as much qi as we can, so look carefully for opportunities to wound the corporation.

{{GM}}Gaichu turns toward you.{{/GM}}

We must remember to manipulate this floor with subtlety. We need Wuxing to focus on the temple, with hopes they'll miss the disruption down here entirely.
No problem.
My Rat senses are tingling...

Yeah, this feels like the perfect place to start scrambling energies. Since we have to disrupt as much qi as possible, leave no stone - or chair - unturned.

{{GM}}Gobbet turns toward you and points a finger at your chest.{{/GM}}

And remember, the key to success down here is subtlety. We don't want to draw Wuxing's attention away from the temple.
I'm on it.
{{GM}}Is0bel examines the office. Her attention eventually falls back to the floor, and she turns toward you, eyes on your feet.{{/GM}}

This is the place. We should start disrupting Wuxing's qi here. But let's be thorough - check everywhere for opportunities to cripple this corp.

{{GM}}She glances at your face.{{/GM}}

And remember, the key to success down here is subtlety. We don't want to draw Wuxing's attention away from the temple.
I think we've found our playground.

{{GM}}Koschei whirs with excitement.{{/GM}}

Pity we can't raze the place. We'll have to save that for the temple.

I suggest we search this office for every opportunity it has to disrupt Wuxing's qi. Should be easy enough.
{{GM}}Racter turns to you with an impish grin.{{/GM}}

Shall we?
Let's.
The empty, hypersterilized office glistens under the fluorescent lighting. A perfect romping ground for qi tinkering.

Your client specifically requested that the office area be manipulated as subtly as possible, so as not to draw attention away from the temple. The true defacement will happen there, distracting Wuxing's security. Hopefully, they won't discover the disrupted qi flow on this floor for weeks.
A pot-bellied troll with two days' worth of mangy stubble smiles and turns to face you.

The chrome of his datajack shimmers wetly in the light, but his cyberdeck is conspicuously absent.
{{GM}}The troll glances down at Gaichu. Smirks.{{/GM}}

Hey. Nice costume. Not the kind of cosplay I'd expect to see at a decking convention, but whatever.

You got the armor wrong, though. Red Samurai pauldrons don't look like that.
{{GM}}Gaichu turns to face the troll, clearly taken aback.{{/GM}}

I assure you, the design is quite authentic... despite what you might have seen on the trideo.
Sorry, man, but you're wrong. I mean, I can see that you put a lot of effort in, but you should've done your homework first.
This *is* Red Samurai armor, you fool.
{{GM}}The troll snickers in amusement. He gives Gaichu a condescending smile.{{/GM}}

Yeah, pal. Sure it is.

That's what I love about you cosplayers... you can never bring yourselves to admit when you're wrong.
{{GM}}He turns to you as Gaichu bristles.{{/GM}}

Hey. What's going on?

{{GM}}His badge hangs low on his lanyard. You catch a glimpse of his decking handle: HeadSpace.{{/GM}}
Hey. What's going on?

{{GM}}His badge hangs low on his lanyard. You catch a glimpse of his decking handle: HeadSpace.{{/GM}}
Strange to see someone at DeckCon without a cyberdeck.
Oh, but I do have a deck.

{{GM}}He taps his head with a smile.{{/GM}}

Got it right here. The next generation of decking technology... the cranial cyberdeck.
{{GM}}He snickers.{{/GM}}

I could say the same about you. Where's your deck, $(l.man)?
I left it in my hotel room.
Don't have one. I'm here to cover the event for the Shadowland BBS.
I lost it.
Bad place for you to do it. This entire show is a pissing contest, in case you didn't know.

Walking around without a deck is like... well, use your imagination.
So where's your deck? You didn't give us an answer.
{{GM}}He taps his head with a smile.{{/GM}}

Right up here. I've got the next generation of decking technology... the cranial cyberdeck.
{{GM}}He continues without waiting for a response.{{/GM}}

It's the apex of modern decking technology. Miniaturized, compact, easy to sneak into the most sensitive of locations. I don't need to lug a great big external deck around with me anymore.

It's a night-and-day difference between this and my old Fairlight Excalibur, friend, *night-and-day.*
Why get a deck installed in your head?
How are you enjoying the Con?
Where'd you get your cranial deck?
I gotta go, see you around.
Why *wouldn't* I? It's compact, it's versatile, it's fast and powerful.

With this sweet baby, I can deck wherever I go, whenever I want, *without* having to lug something the size of an electronic keyboard around with me.

It's the best of all worlds, I'm tellin' you. You've gotta get one for yourself!
{{GM}}Is0bel's voice crackles in over your commlink.{{/GM}}

This guy is an idiot. Cranial cyberdecks are a terrible idea for more reasons than I can count.

Deckers swap out their gear every couple of months... you want someone monkeying around in your brain that often? I’ll make it easy for you - you don’t.
{{GM}}The troll continues, blissfully unaware of Is0bel's interruption.{{/GM}}

So have I sold you on a headdeck of your own yet? Come on, you know that I have!
Yeah, you've got me. I've gotta get one of those for myself!
Wouldn't you have people poking around in your head every time you need to upgrade?
Afraid not. I think that the negatives outweigh the positives.
{{GM}}His mouth erupts into a toothy grin. He thrusts an upraised thumb into the air.{{/GM}}

All riiiight! Good call, my friend! I promise you, you won't regret it.

So, was there anything else that you wanted to know? Go ahead, ask me anything!
{{GM}}He blinks.{{/GM}}

Well, uh, I guess, but...
That thing is going to be obsolete within six months. And then you're going to... what? Get more brain surgery?
{{GM}}He crosses his arms. Sets his jaw.{{/GM}}

It's no different from installing an encephalon, and *everyone* does that.

What do you know, anyway? Nothing. Not a thing. Now leave me alone.
{{GM}}He scoffs at you. Turns away.{{/GM}}

Like you know anything.
It's great! I've gotten to tell a lot of people about my new deck... y'know, spreading the word, educating folks.

It feels good to save my fellow deckers from wasting their money on old, external decks. I guess you could call me a cranial deck evangelist, ha-ha!

{{GM}}He nods his head eagerly, desperation in his eyes.{{/GM}}
Well, you're doing good work. You've sold me on one already!
Look, just between you and me, you're coming on a little strong. You might want to back off a little.
Validation washes over him like a rejuvenating shower.

He gives you a huge thumbs-up.
The Chop Chop Shop, in Kowloon City. They told me not to ask where it came from.

{{GM}}He chuckles to himself.{{/GM}}

Lotsa things "fall off of trucks" out Kowloon way. I'm sure that this was the same.
All right!
{{GM}}His eyes go wide.{{/GM}}

Really? Hey, that's pretty wiz!

Are you interviewing people? Because I can tell you all about the new hotness in decking technology!
Um--
{{GM}}He taps his temple with a thick fingernail.{{/GM}}

I'm talking about what I've got up here... the *cranial cyberdeck.* It's the perfect fusion of next-level deck and bleeding-edge headware!
That will not be necessar--
While we appreciate the offer--
Um, no thanks--
Really? Damn. That's rough.

Thankfully, I'll never have that problem.
{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

No bother. See you 'round.
Hey again. W'sup?
Magic Resistance 1
Adding mana cover
Nerve Strike
An attack that does low damage, but slows the target and reduces their aim.
Nerves Disrupted: -3 Movement, -7% ACC
White Charge IC
Renraku Kraftwerk-1
Renraku's best deck. Easily modified for the streets. Adds 5s when hacking Blocker IC.
Force 6 Air Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 6 Air Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Drone B&R Kit
Racter has designed this tuning kit to remotely adjust Koschei's constants from afar.
Spell Focus: Strip Armor III
Decreases the target's Armor by 5. Upon successful hit, restores 1 AP to caster. Shares a cooldown with other Strip Armor spells.
Armor Stripped: Armor -5
Raymond and Wu stand near each other in the rain, staring at the Walled City. Not talking.
{{GM}}The old man looks at you, weary but alert.{{/GM}}

You look l-like you have... something on your... m-mind, $(l.honorific) $(l.lastname).
Are you going to be okay, Raymond?
I want to talk about your mother.
There's a lot we don't know about you, isn't there?
I d-don't think so... no.

I am the p-product of aborted brain surgery. That, combined with... with... all that has happened, I doubt that I will ever be okay. I have no idea when I will...

{{GM}}He searches the ground for the word.{{/GM}}

...break.
{{GM}}Raymond touches the bandage on his head.{{/GM}}

And... although I'm relieved that you rescued me before my m-memory was wiped... part of me grieves... at the thought... I could have been f-f-free...

...from all of this.
I bet those people in the Walled City wish they could be free from all this too.
Indeed. But they are proof people can... adapt to harsh circumstances.

I will learn to live with this... h-h-hardship. Like they have.
I think we're *all* learning a lot here. For example, $(l.firstname) and I learned that you're a genius who can create magical machines. We learned that you have a rich, powerful mother on the ruling council of Hong Kong who kidnapped you to reprogram your brain.

And we learned that the two of you are responsible for the suffering of thousands.
I thought you m-m-might.

I assume you think that she is... a reprehensible human being.
She tried to reprogram your brain. Not exactly a candidate for Mother of the Year.
She experimented on people without their knowledge or consent. Then, when things went bad, she covered it up.
She tried to kill us, Raymond. Me and Duncan.
There's evidence to support that assumption, yeah.
By asking that, I'm guessing you think she's not.
Yes. She did.

{{GM}}Raymond avoids your eyes - searches the ground for nothing.{{/GM}}

She's not the w-woman... I remember raising me.
Yeah, that's going around.

I grew up thinking you were someone else.
Yes. She did.

{{GM}}Raymond avoids your eyes - searches the ground for nothing.{{/GM}}

Of all her crimes... that is the one that I can't...
My m-mother has known about you two... for years.

But to her, you were street u-u-urchins... instruments to assuage my guilt... make up for what we had d-done to all those... unfortunate people in the Walled City.
That sounds right.
Were we?
That isn't true, is it?
That's the way it's looking to me, too.
Because it is true. I can't deny it. I took y-you off the streets... because I wanted to do *something* positive for... for...
For someone like me. A poor kid who *looked* like those poor kids in the Walled City.

{{GM}}Wu puts his head in his hands.{{/GM}}

I think I'm gonna be sick.
Get it together, Wu. We have a job to do.
We've got a lot to process, Duncan. I'm still not sure we even know half the story.
Yeah... yeah we do.

{{GM}}He points to the old man.{{/GM}}

We have to clean up *his* mess.
{{GM}}He looks down at Raymond. Shakes his head sadly.{{/GM}}

I grew up... thinking you were somebody else.

But was all a lie, wasn't it?
{{GM}}He looks over at you.{{/GM}}

We've sure learned a lot from our trip to Hong Kong, haven't we, $(l.firstname)?
Yeah... yeah.

{{GM}}He looks down at Raymond.{{/GM}}

I grew up... thinking you were somebody else.

But was all a lie, wasn't it?
{{GM}}Wu turns his head to you.{{/GM}}

We've sure learned a lot from our trip to Hong Kong, haven't we, $(l.firstname)?
We learned that the guy who raised us is a genius who can create magical machines. That he has a rich, powerful mother on the ruling council of Hong Kong who kidnapped him to reprogram his brain.

And we learned that he and his mom are responsible for the suffering of thousands.
{{GM}}His eyes stay focused on the ground.{{/GM}}

I s-suppose you were... although I d-didn't know it at the time.

{{GM}}He shuffles his feet, nodding to himself.{{/GM}}

I took you off the streets because... I-I w-wanted to do *something* positive for... for...
{{GM}}His eyes stay focused on the ground.{{/GM}}

I... I suppose it is... although I didn't know it at the t-time.

{{GM}}He shuffles his feet, nodding to himself.{{/GM}}

I took you off the streets because I... w-wanted to do *something* positive for... for...
I can't deny it.

And yet, everything she did... she was able to j-justify in the moment... even her attempt to alter my m-m-memory. Her g-gift is her ability to present a compelling logic-chain that leads... to her way of thinking.

My mother is a brilliant and p-persuasive woman.
Yeah, Grandma sounds charming. I bet that if I met her, she'd be able to justify how killing my partner was for the good of all mankind, too.

{{GM}}You can feel his heat beginning to rise again.{{/GM}}

But I'm not interested in *her* right now.
This is about Raymond Black. Or Edward Tsang. The guy standing in front of me with the messed up brain.

The guy I thought was my father.

{{GM}}Wu deflates. Covers his eyes with his hand.{{/GM}}

I've got a lot to process and I'm still not sure I even have half the story.
I can't s-see her through your eyes. She is m-my mother... I will always be biased where she is concerned.
How can that be? Look at the suffering she's caused!
That's some bias you got there, Ray. She's kind of a monster.
I can see that.
Unconditional love is unconditional, $(l.firstname). I am not b-blind to what my m-mother has d-done... she has hurt people... hurt *me.*

But she is my mother. She m-made me who I am...

{{GM}}He closes his eyes at the irony of his statement.{{/GM}}

I will not stop loving her.
And *I* am also responsible for the s-suffering in the Walled City. I ran from Hong Kong when she s-scuttled the project... poured the concrete around the Fortune Engine.

Do you think I am a reprehensible human b-being?
{{GM}}Wu mutters his reply.{{/GM}}

Jury's still out on you.

I've got a lot to process and I'm still not sure I even have half the story. I just know that I grew up thinking you were... someone else.
Monster? I think before the night is over we'll see what a r-real monster... looks like.
Can you? That is good. Perhaps you will be able to separate the m-man from the... p-parent when you think of me... s-some day.
Of course. You saw the world... saw me... th-through a child's eyes.

How much do we a-actually learn about our parents... b-before they die?
Well today, we learned that you're a genius who can create magical machines.

We learned that you have a rich, powerful mother on the ruling council of Hong Kong who kidnapped you to reprogram your brain.

And we learned that the two of you are responsible for the suffering of thousands.
Pretty big score, from my perspective.

Did I get everything, $(l.firstname)?
You left out that he accidentally let a demon god thing move into the neighborhood.
You left out that he's risking his life to try and fix it.
Let him be, Duncan.
Right. *That.*

Was it greed, Raymond? Is that what was behind all this?
I wanted to h-help people.

This was... an a-accident.
Are you sure it was an accident, Raymond?
An accident your mother covered up.
What about your mother? Was she trying to help people?
{{GM}}The old man shakes his head sadly.{{/GM}}

I have n-no idea any more.
All I know... is that I am c-compelled to s-top that... m-machine... do whatever I must to send that c-creature back to where ever she c-came from.

To make things right.
That's just it!

{{GM}}Wu wheels on Raymond, closes the gap between them.{{/GM}}

You can't make things right, *Edward.* You can't erase twenty years of misery and suffering. The best you can hope for is to remove the *unnatural* part of it - allow that horrible slum to be horrible without toxic qi, or whatever you said.

You're not gonna push the "make-it-all better-button."
Yes. And allowed to f-fester... for t-twenty years. Regardless of her m-motive... her sins are inexcusable.

But that is my mother.
*I*... am still c-compelled to stop that machine... do whatever I c-can to send that c-creature back to... where ever she came from...

To make things right.
That is the way I r-remember it... but I'm not sure I can trust my own m-memories... anymore.
That's just it! He *can't* fix it.

{{GM}}He wheels on Raymond, closes the gap between them.{{/GM}}

You realize you can't fix it, right Edward? You can't erase twenty years of misery and suffering. The best you can hope for is to remove the *unnatural* part of it - allow that horrible slum to be horrible without toxic qi, or whatever you said.

You're not gonna push the "make it all better button."
Sure. I'll let him be.

Right after we throw our lives away trying to undo whatever it was he did twenty years ago.
{{GM}}He wheels on Raymond, closes the gap between them.{{/GM}}

You realize you can't fix it, right *Edward?* You can't erase twenty years of misery and suffering. The best you can hope for is to remove the *unnatural* part of it - allow that horrible slum to be horrible without toxic qi, or whatever you said.

You're not gonna push the "make-it-all-better-button."
So we should run?
We can stop it from getting worse. We can stop *her.*
Got a better idea?
No way. I'm not gonna be like *him!* I'm not gonna run.
Oh, right. Let's not forget that at the end of this road, there's a demon goddess waiting for us.

And I don't think *she's* gonna be too sweet on the idea of us closing the door on her.
No.

But I'll tell you one thing. I'm not gonna be like *him.*

I'm not gonna run.
Raymond cringes at that. He screws his eyes shut, trying to ward it off.

But then he's still for a moment and his jaw sets. And when he opens them again, his eyes are defiant. Authoritative.
I did what I did to *help* people, Mr. Wu. And when I *couldn't* help them anymore, I left and I *continued* helping people in Seattle... in that teen center... in that slum I t-took you from.

Or did you f-forget where you were f-from?
Oh, I didn't *forget,* little man. How could I, with you reminding us of it every chance you get? How you saved a poor little Chinese boy...

{{GM}}He lowers his head until it's inches from the old man's.{{/GM}}

... after you ran from the thousands who looked *just like him.*
My m-motivations for helping you aren't relative, Duncan.

{{GM}}He points a bony finger at Wu, runs it up and down the ork towering above him.{{/GM}}

Look at you. The *results* are what counts!
{{GM}}Wu doesn't pull back. He leaves his face a hair's breadth from his foster-father.{{/GM}}

I know, Edward. Your motivations for building that machine aren't relevant here, either.

{{GM}}Wu cocks a thumb at the Walled City. At the throngs running from it in terror.{{/GM}}

The results are what counts.
Stopping that Fortune Engine is what counts.
Okay boys, I think we've had enough family drama for today.
You two need to focus on the job at hand. We can deal with this later.
Most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply.
He understands badly who listens badly.
Listen to what you know instead of what you fear.
You're right.

{{GM}}He takes in the scene unfolding around him with grim determination.{{/GM}}

We need to do... what we can do.
Both men recoil at that, mouths agape. They stare at one another, remembering a time years ago when they were similarly conflicted.
"The intent to reply." That thing with Lockjaw... Double-Trey.

{{GM}}Wu's looks at you, remembering, and his tone softens dramatically.{{/GM}}

I just realized why you were always so on edge all those years ago. While you were raising us. Why you always seemed so... tortured.

You've been carrying *this* around the whole time.
"Listens badly." That thing with Lockjaw... Double-Trey. You were so ashamed of yourself for flying off the handle.

{{GM}}Wu's looks at you, remembering, and his tone softens dramatically.{{/GM}}

I just realized why you were always so on edge all those years ago. While you were raising us. Why you always seemed so... tortured.

You've been carrying *this* around the whole time.
"What you fear." That thing with Lockjaw... Double-Trey.

{{GM}}Wu's looks at you, remembering, and his tone softens dramatically.{{/GM}}

I just realized why you were always so on edge all those years ago. While you were raising us. Why you always seemed so... tortured.

You've been carrying *this* around the whole time.
{{GM}}The old man shakes his head, firm.{{/GM}}

I have. But that guilt is nothing now. When I think of what the c-circulator... the... the... *rift*...

{{GM}}Raymond's eyes open up big.{{/GM}}

More of them could get in. More like *her.*
Do you think that can *happen?* More Yama Kings can make it through?
Yes.

The *possibility* exists to remove the choke. The machine could be set to overdrive the circulator... tear the Astral rift... even wider...

Open the f-floodgates... for *more* to enter.

We can't let that happen.
No, Raymond. We can't.

{{GM}}Wu looks the old man in the eye, his hostility replaced by firm resolve.{{/GM}}

We won't.
Tracer Shot
One bullet. Single target. Marks the enemy for 1 RND, making them easier to hit.
Tracer Rounds
Force 3 Air Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 3 Air Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Armor III
Target gains +5 Armor, up to the maximum Armor of 10. Lasts until combat ends. Shares a cooldown with other Armor spells.
Protected: Armor +5
Bound Air Spirit
Killjoy 1.0
Does -2 AP to a single target.
BrightLight System
Uses the Ranged Combat skill for accuracy. High-energy flashbulbs hidden in a cybereye. When triggered, grants an attack that blinds an enemy if successful. Cost: 2 AP. Cooldown: 6.
A pair of dead-eyed transients lean against the abandoned car, their shoulders slumped.

A pile of overstuffed bags lie in a heap on the sidewalk, spilling into the rain-choked gutter. The smaller of the pair looks down, notices that his bags are getting soaked, and does nothing. Seems like he's too exhausted to care.
{{GM}}The shorter of the transients slowly shifts his attention to you. His voice comes out hollow and empty.{{/GM}}

You're one of Cheng's.

{{GM}}It isn't a question.{{/GM}}
What's it to you?
{{GM}}Remain silent.{{/GM}} {{GM}}Garder le silence.{{/GM}}
Auntie Cheng doesn't own me.
Well hopefully, she'll let you leave.

{{GM}}He nods his head toward the Heoi gates, and the open road beyond.{{/GM}}

That's what we're doing. Getting the hell out of here while we still can.
Fine. Stay quiet. We're getting the hell out of here while we still can.
Lucky you. Then you can leave.

{{GM}}He nods his head toward the Heoi gates, and the open road beyond.{{/GM}}

That's what we're doing. Getting the hell out of here while we still can.
If you're smart, you'll follow us. Everyone with half a brain is getting out of this place.
Well I guess I have less than half a brain.
Believe me, I'm thinking about it.
Not me. Whatever's happening here, I'm going to figure out what it is and I'm gonna fix it.
Your funeral.

Nothing can fix what's coming for the Walled City, and Heoi is *way* too close to that place for comfort.
Smart $(l.man).

Nothing can fix what's coming for the Walled City, and Heoi is *way* too close to that place for comfort.
You're either a fool, or you're crazy.

Nothing can fix what's coming for the Walled City, and Heoi is *way* too close to that place for comfort.
You getting the dreams too?
What do you mean, "what's coming"?
Too close to what?
If you say so. I'll be going now.
Just like when we were kids. And we heard the stories of the Yama Kings.

{{GM}}The two exchange glances.{{/GM}}

But they weren't just dreams this time, they were signs. Warnings.
You don't know?

{{GM}}He grunts.{{/GM}}

...S'pose that you wouldn't. You're an outsider here. Didn't grow up in the Walled City, like we did.
To answer your question, *they* are coming. The Yama Kings. Just like the ones in the old stories.

Been havin' dreams about them, just like I did as a kid. But they weren't just dreams this time, they were signs. Warnings.
What kind of warnings?
What can you tell me about the Yama Kings?
Thanks. It's time for me to be going, now.
The kind that you don't ignore.

{{GM}}He stoops to begin pulling his bags off of the sidewalk and out of the gutter.{{/GM}}

C'mon, Shen. It's time to go.
Just what my grandfather told me - respect ghosts and gods but keep away from them.

{{GM}}He stoops to begin pulling his bags off of the sidewalk and out of the gutter.{{/GM}}

C'mon, Shen. It's time to go.
Sure.

{{GM}}He stoops to begin pulling his bags off of the sidewalk and out of the gutter.{{/GM}}

C'mon, Shen. Let's get out of here.
Armor II
Target gains +3 Armor, up to the maximum Armor of 10. Lasts until combat ends. Shares a cooldown with other Armor spells.
Protected: Armor +3
Cudgel
A powerful club attack
Black Melee IC
{{GM}}The woman standing guard duty nods in acknowledgement.{{/GM}}

Strangers. You picked a bad time to come visit.
And you're a terrible door guard. Or aren't you looking out for gun-toting strangers?
We aren't visiting. We're looking for a friend.
Yeah, it's a bad habit of mine. Are you guarding the room against the rats?
That isn't what I'm here for. Strangers don't concern us.

She... *it*... doesn't control any strangers. Not that we know of, anyway.
"It"?
It. The thing that controls these devil rats, makes them aggressive. *Organizes* them.

I've never seen it myself, but I've heard stories.
You wanna talk to someone, talk to the dwarf. I'm busy.

{{GM}}She hefts her weapon, her eyes glued to the door.{{/GM}}

I need to keep my eyes open for more of those little bastards. We can't let any more of them sneak in here, not after what happened to Simon.
Best of luck.
Then you're out of luck. I haven't seen anyone from outside of quarantine in weeks.
Yes.

{{GM}}She hefts her weapon, her eyes glued to the door.{{/GM}}

The rats, and the thing that's controlling them. I've never seen it myself, but I've heard stories.
Glad to have you on our side, stranger.

When the time for the mutiny comes, you can count me in.
Move along, outsider.
Cast Disarm
Spirit's power that's disarms enemies
Spread Throw
Throw blades in an arc to hit adjacent targets.
Silence
The target of the Silence spell makes no noise for 4 RNDS.
Silent: Makes No Noise
Force 5 Air Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 5 Air Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
That seems to be the last of the security forces - I can't hear anyone else on this floor.

{{GM}}Gaichu raises his nose and turns his head back and forth, like a snake tasting the air.{{/GM}}

We should hurry. It won't be long before backup arrives.
{{GM}}Gobbet claps her hands excitedly as she regards Gaichu.{{/GM}}

Nibbles, you're like some kind of crazy bat or something. I bet I could reach into my pocket, throw everything in it onto the floor, and you'd be able to tell me how many bits and bobs there were, right?
No, probably not. But I could tell you where they were, at least.

Counting is... difficult. Especially when it's very likely you would throw a handful of dried shrimp.
{{GM}}Is0bel casually clears the chamber on her rifle and inserts a new magazine.{{/GM}}

What's the matter, you chip a tooth on one of 'em back there? For a monster, you seem awfully squeamish about this kind of thing.
{{GM}}Gaichu regards Is0bel cooly.{{/GM}}

It is not squeamishness. It is caution. This is an Ares facility, and Knight-Errant is one of the most competent security forces in the world. Only a fool would wish to face them on their own terms.

Even monsters like staying alive.
{{GM}}Duncan scans the room with his goggles, one finger pressed to their side.{{/GM}}

For an Ares facility, the kind of response we've gotten has been a little light. I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but it's got me a little worried.
Give it time. Ares Asia doesn't have the same kind of military presence that western branches do, but they'll have more than enough soldiers to take us out unless we stay on track.
It shouldn't take long from here on out. As long as we keep moving, we'll stay ahead of them.
Never count on a plan surviving first contact with the enemy, Racter. Until the job is done and the money is in your hand, anything can go wrong - and often does.
{{GM}}Racter peers intently at his bracer as he scans the room with it.{{/GM}}

I think that's the last of the security on this floor, but it won't be long before reinforcements arrive. They're sure to notice when their soldiers stop checking in.
I just hope we can be gone before they realize we were ever here. I don't like the idea of Knight-Errant tracking us back to the $(story.Global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName).

{{GM}}Duncan warily looks over his shoulder.{{/GM}}

The last thing we need is a bunch of armed soldiers coming to where we live.
That's unlikely, thankfully. Of all the megas, Ares has the best relationship with the shadow community. They'll kill us, to be certain, but their management understands that we perform a necessary service - one that they pay for with great regularity.
You think they've figured out what we're after? They'll be right on top of us if they have.
Doubtful. Unless Taylor or Hardingham was in the lab, the rank and file Knight-Errant guards won't have security clearance to know what projects are being developed. Still, we should move quickly.
It must be awful to work for Knight-Errant. You can't even go to the bathroom without checking in with your supervisor... And you have to wear all that ugly yellow armor.

No thanks. Count me out.
{{GM}}Racter gives Gobbet a sidelong glance, the corner of his mouth curling up.{{/GM}}

Something tells me that the uniform regulations also preclude pet rats from hitching a ride, as well.
{{GM}}Duncan scans the room with his goggles, one finger pressed to their side.{{/GM}}

We'd better move fast. That's the last of them for now, but it won't be long before they figure out what floor we're on. We're gonna get a lot more soldiers crawling up our ass soon.
I don't think so. If they did, they'd have sent a lot more already. The best we can hope for is getting out of here before they piece it together.
It must be awful to work for Knight-Errant. You gotta wear all that ugly yellow armor, you get shot at by attractive Rat Shamans, and on top of that, you've got to fill out all those forms.

No thanks. Count me out.
Psh. Girl, as if they'd ever even let you in the door... Please. You'd be lucky to make it past the first week of basic training.
That's all of them. But we can't slow dow. As soon as they figure out what floor we're on, we're gonna have soldiers up to our eyeballs.
How long do you think we've got, Izz?
I don't know. If they knew what we were after, we'd already be swamped with soldiers. I just hope it's enough time to get out of here without any further snags.
That's it for the thugs on this floor, but they'll figure out where we are soon enough. We'd better keep moving.
Armor I
Target gains +2 Armor, up to the maximum Armor of 10. Lasts until combat ends. Shares a cooldown with other Armor spells.
Protected: Armor +2
First Nation Armor
The tribal uniform of the urban shaman. Grants +1 Charisma and +1 Spirit Control.
Spell Focus: Strip Armor II
Decreases the target's Armor by 3. Upon successful hit, restores 1 AP to caster. Shares a cooldown with other Strip Armor spells.
Armor Stripped: Armor -3
Simsense Chip
Stolen from a vending machine in the Lotus Den. Someone might pay to take it off your hands.
INTERNAL ANNOUNCEMENT: Tsang Security Increase

The Tsang company has increased its security measures in a company-wide movement to protect its investments. Tsang's actions on this matter are to remain company knowledge only. Any mention or leak of this information will not be tolerated. Employees found guilty of divulging said security movement to outside parties will be blacklisted and purged from Tsang Mechanical Services.
Security protocols will double throughout Tsang proper. In the case of Laboratory Twelve, security will be enhanced threefold for optimum protection. Those who work in Laboratory Twelve will be upgraded to Omega-level clearance. Admittance to the laboratory will be heavily monitored, and all visitors must have Omega clearance or higher with critical business in the area.
The captain of this station has preapproved a limited release of Laboratory Twelve's elevator code to Omega personnel. Receipt of this message is proof of your authorization.

Warning: This information is highly sensitive and should remain restricted to Omega-plus knowledge only. Violators will experience aforementioned blacklisting and company purging.
A bulletin board dedicated to this floor's faculty pops up. Several mundane topics are posted, but one, titled "ATTENTION," seems more promising than the others. An initial glance reveals that the floor has acquired new gear of some sort.
{{GM}}Read the post.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Disconnect.{{/GM}}
ATTENTION:

Our security staff has been allocated extra gear to assist in the containment of our high-priority test subject. Effective immediately, all gear assigned to this floor's patrols is to *remain* on this floor. No more lending or borrowing with other stations' staff.
To ensure that others do not take our property, we've changed the code to the equipment room, which is now 8974. This code is not to be shared outside our department.

Captain Lo-Kang
Lab Head of Security
Cyber Combat
No weapon. No problem.
Force 2 Air Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 2 Air Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Ball Lightning II
An explosion of electricity that also does AP DMG. Ongoing 5 HP & 1 AP DMG for 1 RND.
Lightning: HP -5, AP -1 per RND
{{GM}}Gobbet squeezes her eyes tight and concentrates.{{/GM}}

Uh-huh... Yep. I can feel it. Most of the energy on this floor is being channeled into *this* room.
{{GM}}She opens both eyes and points to the ground.{{/GM}}

It enters on this floor, circles through this room, then flows back out. If we wanna sabotage Wuxing's qi, we should find a way to prevent it from circulating back into the atrium from here.
{{GM}}Gaichu tilts back his head, eyelids half-closed as he focuses on the room. He takes a deep breath.{{/GM}}

The qi here is strong. This room is where the energy loops before flowing to other areas.
{{GM}}He relaxes.{{/GM}}

If we disrupt the flow of qi here, it will affect the atrium. Subtly, but enough to destabilize this building for weeks. Perhaps months.
You can feel the energy surging through this office.
It's within this room that all the building's qi coalesces before flowing back out into the rest of the structure.
Strato-9 Mk. 2 Sniper
A old Lone Star hoverdrone that has been given a long-range weapon upgrade.
Interdiction Shot
Fires a discarding-sabot HTI round that ignores armor completely.
Bull Totem
The power of the Bull aids all allies within a 3 tile range by reducing all Incoming DMG by 3. Lasts 3 RNDS.
Bull: Incoming DMG -3
Matrix Tank Attack
A blast of biofeedback
Another squatter, this one more beaten up than most. Bloody bandages wrap his knuckles, and one of his orbital sockets has been crushed, deforming the silhouette of his face.

He peers at you with a mixture of suspicion and hostility.
Don't recognize you. That means that you're new here.

{{GM}}His voice comes out in a hoarse croak.{{/GM}}

You picked a bad place to go sightseeing, outsider.
You okay, man? You don't look so good.
I dunno. The place has its charms.
No. I'm not okay. I'm all beaten up and going blind in one eye. Now tell me what you want so I can be on my way.

{{GM}}He spits the words out like venom.{{/GM}}
What's your name?
We're looking for a friend of ours. A female ork, about nineteen years old. Calls herself Gobbet.
Did the Rat King's people do that to you?
I know you're hurting, but there are other ways to help than fighting.
We're taking this raft back from the Rat King, and we need all the help we can get. Can we count on you?
Tell me about the Sinking Ship. I want to hear your take on what's happening here.
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}} I'll leave you be.
My name? Ivan. Ivan Fu.

That all? Can I go?
Haven't seen her. Sorry.
No. I got caught in the crossfire.

The mutineers did this to me. Thought I was with the Rat King.
All that I wanted to do was get home. Instead, my right eye only sees double now. Can hardly use my hands.

{{GM}}The calmness of his voice belies the naked spite on his face.{{/GM}}

Thanks for asking.
Oh, I can fight... don't you worry about that.

{{GM}}He glances down at his bandaged hands.{{/GM}}

Might be best if I waited a week or two, but even in the state I'm in, I can hold my own.
I used to be damned good with a blade. Paid a pretty penny to have one custom-forged for me, even.

That blade was a lovely thing. Useful in and out of a fight. I always I liked that; it wasn't just a weapon, it was a tool as well.
And what happened to this blade of yours?
Taken, lost. I don't know.

{{GM}}He pulls a balisong knife from his back pocket. Extends his arm, offering it to you.{{/GM}}

How about you, stranger? You handy with a blade?
{{CC}}Melee Weapons: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Medium){{/CC}} {{GM}}Flip the blade open.{{/GM}} You could say that.
Damn, any idea where it went?
The weapon unfolds beautifully, shimmering as the handle flips open and the blade flips into place. You snap the handle back together again with another flip of your wrist.

The squatter nods his head appreciatively, clearly impressed.
Hot damn. You do know your way around a blade.

Nice to meet someone else who appreciates the craft.
{{GM}}Return the knife.{{/GM}} Likewise.
{{GM}}There is a long pause, then he leans in toward you.{{/GM}}

Tell you what... I don't know where the blade is, but I know who took it.
There was this weaselly-lookin' guy. A human, one of the fighters in Cadmus's doomed rebellion. He wore a dark jacket... purple, or black, or something like that. Always smiling with these big, yellow teeth.

He's the one who took my blade. Waited until his pals were holding me down to do it.
The last I saw of his lot, they were being herded toward the lower deck by Malvina's loyalists. I never saw 'em come back up.

I don't know if he still has the thing, but if he does, that's where you'll find him. And if you do find him, I want you to take my blade back from him. At least you'd appreciate it.
{{GM}}He pauses for a moment, an intense look in his eyes.{{/GM}}

...On second thought, scratch that. I need you to do me a favor. Do it, and the blade is yours.
What do you need?
Split that filthy Rat's head in two with it when you get the chance.
Done.
Not if I kill it first.
{{GM}}He nods to you, his smile distorted by the swelling on his face.{{/GM}}
No. And even if I did, you think I'd tell a stranger where to find it?

That blade was my most prized possession. If anyone's gonna find it, it's gonna be me.
{{GM}}He chuckles.{{/GM}}

You're all fools. The last two mutinies failed, and yours will, too.

Even if you did have a chance, it was Cadmus and his boys that did this to me. You think I'm gonna cozy up with them?
I'm sorry that they hurt you, but like you said, you got caught in a crossfire. People get hurt in those situations. It happens.

Cadmus would never intentionally harm you. The Rat King, on the other hand...
I said no. I'm not puttin' my neck out for anybody - I'm gonna ride this thing out, and that's all there is to it.
Please, we need your help. We can't do this alone.
The Rat King could have you killed at a moment's notice, and it's only a matter of time before it does. Can't you see that?
If you help us, I can make it worth your while. I have connections back in in Kowloon.
You hard of hearing? I said *no,* and that's final.

I'm not laying my life on the line for you, or for Cadmus, or for anyone else.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Shadowrunner{{/CC}} Wake up. You're living in a warzone. Not choosing a side won't keep you safe, it'll get you killed.
{{CC}}Biotech: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Easy){{/CC}} That eye could be saved if we could get you to a proper hospital.
Isn't there anything I can say that'd change your mind?
{{GM}}He stares at you with his good eye.{{/GM}}

...You're right. I know that... I know it better'n most. But can't just pick up and leave. Nobody can.

The Rat King won't let us.
{{GM}}He shakes his head.{{/GM}}

Can't. The Rat King won't let us leave.
Then we'll have to kill the fucking thing, won't we?
{{GM}}He stares at her with his good eye. It's subtle, but something in his expression changes. Grows hard.{{/GM}}

You a killer, girl?
I do it for a living. We all do.
Then maybe you've got a chance.

{{GM}}He grits his teeth. Gingerly touches the ruin of his collapsed eye socket.{{/GM}}

To hell with it. I'm in. When you make your move, I'll do what I can to help.
You've made the right decision. Go to Cadmus and wait for our signal.
I will.
No. Now leave me alone.
It's going to shit. Rats everywhere, people dying. Smells like a garbage scow.

{{GM}}He grunts.{{/GM}}

That satisfy your curiosity, outsider?
Can you tell me any more? It's important.
All right. Let me ask you about something else.
Look, I ain't the damned welcoming committee. I'm just a bloody old man who wants to get back to his squat.

If you want to know more about the boat, ask someone else.
{{GM}}He looks away.{{/GM}}

If you must.
Making jokes, stranger? Well, I'm not in a joking mood.

{{GM}}He spits the words out like venom.{{/GM}}

Now tell me what you want so that I can be on my way.
You again.

{{GM}}He lets out a low grunt.{{/GM}}

What do you need?
Cast manafist
Magic Punch Attack
An old relay switch box hangs off the wall. The plastic exterior of the case is broken in numerous places, and a jumble of wires spill out of the cracks.

This must be the shipboard alert system - or what's left of it. Your eyes are drawn to a large lever marked "ALARM."
{{GM}}Pull the lever once to signal that you're scuttling the raft.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Pull the lever twice to signal that Cadmus should start his mutiny.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Step Back.{{/GM}}
An ear-splitting wail blares through the alarm system.

One blast.
The alarm system blares - once, then twice. The sound is ear-splitting.

Moments later, the distant sound of gunshots filters down from above.
The sewers deposit you into a series of mechanical access ways that eventually link to a system of railway tunnels. Gobbet leads you through five or six magnetically-sealed doors and across several sets of electrified tracks until she indicates you've reached your destination.
{{GM}}She holds up her hand, indicates the surrounding platform.{{/GM}}

This is the MTR station for Heoi. Once you go up those stairs, you'll be in our neighborhood.

Kindly Cheng runs her operation out of a mahjong parlor there called "Swift Winds."
{{GM}}Wu rips off his goggles.{{/GM}}

There's an APB out on us. How do you expect us to get to this Swift Winds place without taking a bullet?
Heoi is well known as a protected area. Kindly Cheng sees to that.

It's a shadow community - smugglers, hijackers, black marketeers - you get the idea. Cops tend to give the place a wide berth.
{{GM}}Is0bel gives a shallow nod. Her gaze remains planted on the floor.{{/GM}}

Police cameras don't last long here. Between the smog and the cloud cover, we shouldn't have to worry about drone surveillance, either.

The HKPF won't find you. Not if you follow our lead.
{{GM}}Gobbet widens her stance. Puts her hands on her hips.{{/GM}}

Now, here's how this is going to work--

You can't get an audience with Cheng until we secure you an invitation. So me and Izz will go on ahead and pay our respects. Then we'll request that she see you.

Politely.
An invitation? How do we get that?
An audience? What is she, a queen?
{{GM}}The rat shaman smirks.{{/GM}}

We'll kiss her ass until it shines.
{{GM}}Is0bel sighs.{{/GM}}

That's about the size of it.
{{GM}}Gobbet holds up a hand.{{/GM}}

One more thing. Kindly Cheng is a dangerous woman. She may seem friendly, but don't let your guard drop. And whatever you do, do *not* disrespect her.
I've dealt with dangerous people all my life. I know how to behave myself.
I'll act however I damn well please.
{{GM}}She drops her hand. Nods to the three of you.{{/GM}}

That's it. We'll go on ahead and smooth the way. Just give us a few minutes' head start. And don't talk to anyone.
Why don't we just go with you?
If this place is protected, why shouldn't we talk to anybody?
What if a local recognizes us from that news broadcast? Calls the cops?
Because no one *knows* you here. And outsiders aren't welcome in Heoi.
{{GM}}Gobbet eyes Wu up and down.{{/GM}}

Plus, your friend here radiates cop.

Cops are even less welcome than outsiders.
{{GM}}Then she looks your way.{{/GM}}

And you - you're not exactly ordinary either, are you?
I like to think I have a certain flair.
I can blend in when I need to.
I am what I am.
{{GM}}She smiles for the first time.{{/GM}}

Yeah, that's what I'm talking about.
If people see us strolling through town together with no prior explanation, we might not make it to the mahjong parlor at all.
How do we know you're not just gonna bolt on us?
Thanks for the help.
I get it.
{{GM}}She squints at you, confused.{{/GM}}

Because we need your SINs burned as badly as you do. And we need to figure a way out of this shit.

Or we're all dead.
Plus, we could use the muscle right now.

{{GM}}Her voice turns sheepish.{{/GM}}

Just saying.
{{GM}}She quickly turns away.{{/GM}}

See you at the mahjong parlor.
{{GM}}She squints at you, confused.{{/GM}}

We're helping ourselves as much as we're helping you, Seattle. We need your SINs burned as badly as you do. And we need to figure a way out of this shit.

Or we're all dead.
{{GM}}Her eyes narrow and she nods approvingly.{{/GM}}

That's good. You catch on real quick.

We need your SINs burned as badly as you do. And we need to figure a way out of this shit.

Or we're all dead.
{{GM}}She smiles for the first time.{{/GM}}

Not in our neighborhood, Seattle.
{{GM}}She smiles for the first time.{{/GM}}

Yeah, that's what I'm worried about.
{{GM}}She rolls her eyes and let's out a little grunt.{{/GM}}

I said the *place* was protected. Not *you're* protected.
{{GM}}Is0bel fiddles with her deck.{{/GM}}

No one knows you here. And outsiders aren't welcome in Heoi.
{{GM}}Gobbet smirks and shakes her head.{{/GM}}

No one in Heoi calls cops. Doing that around here is a quick way to get dead.
You'd better. If you don't, it's all of our asses.

{{GM}}She lets her hand fall. Nods to the three of you.{{/GM}}

Okay. We'll go on ahead and smooth the way. Just give us a few minutes' head start.
Yeah? Then don't be surprised if you wind up chained to a rock at the bottom of Hung Hom Bay.

That goes for everyone here, by the way. Either of you mouths off, and Auntie Cheng will make all of us pay for it.
{{GM}}Duncan gives you a sidelong glance. Growls out an answer.{{/GM}}

$+(l.he)'ll behave $(l.him)self. Won't you, $(l.firstname)?
Yes, Dad.
Drowning next to you isn't big on my to-do list. So yeah, I'll play nice with the old lady.
Never can tell.
$+(l.he)'d better. If $(l.he) doesn't, it's all of our asses.

{{GM}}She lets her hand fall. Nods to the three of you.{{/GM}}

Okay. We'll go on ahead and smooth the way. Just give us a few minutes' head start.
{{GM}}Her arms cross and her eyebrows raise high.{{/GM}}

As far as you're concerned, yeah. She's the Queen of Kowloon.
Chinese War Sword
Melee: A two handed war sword capable of hacking through armor. May do AP DMG on critical hits.
White Melee IC
Mark Target 1.0
Uses the Decking skill for accuracy. If successful, marks an enemy, causing them to become 10% easier to hit.
Marked Target
Force 4 Air Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 4 Air Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
RFID Key
A small key fob that broadcasts an RFID signal. This one is keyed to the heavy security door in Neville Ma's apartment.
The cold storage tank and attendant machinery are lit from within the organic soup by flickering, baleful lights. The tank containing Omega Sequence #358G chugs quietly with the hum of pumps and coolant.

As you look at the tank, the fluid shifts and there is a soft thump as a mass of organic matter drifts up against the glass.
A pale, lidless eye stares at you from within the tank. The face it resides in is a ruined mass of tumors and scabrous pustules, a mutated mass of teeth and indeterminate growths dominating what should be the nose and mouth region.

As you look, it fixes its lone eye upon you, the pupil flickering back and forth as it tracks your motions.
{{GM}}Gobbet gasps, and quickly slaps a palm against the tank. She peers at it intently for a few seconds, and a deep shudder rolls through her body. She turns to you, her voice barely above a whisper.{{/GM}}

$(l.name), this thing is alive... I don't think it's intelligent, but it's definitely living, despite being mostly made of cancer and disease.
We need to shut this life support system down, Gobbet. Nothing deserves to live in this condition.

{{GM}}Is0bel glances at the creature, putting one hand to her mouth to stifle a retch.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Gobbet leans closer to the tank, still whispering.{{/GM}}

Only a few more minutes, monster.

You'll be at peace soon.
{{GM}}Wu grimaces, tusks bared, as he stares at the tank. After a moment he turns toward you and Gobbet.{{/GM}}

We have a moral imperative to kill this thing. Nothing should have to live in this state.
Curious. This creature does not appear to be in pain, despite the rampant disease that runs through it.

{{GM}}Gaichu leans closer, his blind eyes obviously focusing on the astral body beyond mundane vision.{{/GM}}

The aura appears metahuman, but... different, somehow.
{{GM}}Gobbet glares at Gaichu, her nostrils flaring.{{/GM}}

I don't care if it's not in *pain*, Nibbles! This thing deserves to be put to rest! Being forced to live like this...
I'm not surprised. Assuming these experiments dealt with the metagenes of the subject, severe mutations would have been acceptable byproducts of the research.

{{GM}}Racter taps the vat's glass with the back of an index finger.{{/GM}}

Ethics often fall by the wayside in these projects.
{{GM}}Racter leans closer to the tank, tapping it with the back of one index finger.{{/GM}}

Fascinating. Mutation and cancerous growths on a massive scale, yet the creature is still living - albeit with a great deal of technical assistance. I'm amazed they've managed it.
{{GM}}Duncan pushes up against Racter, getting directly in his face. He thrusts his lower jaw forward, tusks inches from Racter's face.{{/GM}}

What the hell is wrong with you?! We see a monster like this, and you just comment on the *science*?

This shit's an abomination!
{{GM}}Racter is nonplussed, and simply shrugs.{{/GM}}

Research requires sacrifice. This creature's life and death will be meaningless unless humanity learns from it - be it the data itself, or a caution against science without ethics.
That's a cold damn way to look at it.

{{GM}}Is0bel jabs a finger at the tank, gritting her teeth.{{/GM}}

This is a living being, Racter!
I suspect they shut down its' pain receptors in the brain. If they hadn't, it's quite possible the agony of simply existing would have caused it to go into shock.
{{GM}}Is0bel puts a hand over her mouth, stifling a retch.{{/GM}}

We need to put this thing out of its misery, $(l.name). Nothing deserves to be kept alive in this state.
{{GM}}Is0bel's eyes go wide, and she takes an involuntary step backward.{{/GM}}

You're saying this thing is... a person?!

{{GM}}She says nothing else, but a deep shudder runs through her body.{{/GM}}
No disagreement here.

{{GM}}Is0bel nods at you, expression grim.{{/GM}}

Let's get this done with.
If anything, that makes it worse.

Come on, let's shut this tank down. Put the damn to rest.
>> Eastern Tiger CoolCore Pro, v2.2.6

Please input command.
{{GM}}Take samples and turn off power.{{/GM}}
After a few moments of whirring, a small drawer opens to present you with a rack of vials. Each one contains a scrap of tissue.

You power down the machinery, the lights in the vat dim and the creature slowly closes its single eye. As the last hum of power fades, the creature drifts away from the glass.
Ruger Thunderbolt
Pistol: Lone Star's favorite heavy pistol. Capable of a powerful burst fire mode.
It's a fairly recent code maglock system. You can hear loud music blaring from inside the apartment.
112798
The door slides open.
Force 1 Air Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 1 Air Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Double Tap
Two attacks on a single target with one action. Critical hit chance increased.
Auto-Injector (Bliss)
An automated drug fabricator that can produce Bliss out of base chemical components. When triggered, reduces incoming DMG by 3 and Strength by 1. Lasts 4 RNDs. Cost: 0 AP. Cooldown: 8.
Bliss: Incoming DMG -3, Strength -1
X-Floh
A physical magician, skilled in hand to hand and spellcasting.
Mercenary: Physical Magician
Thrust
+2 DMG over the weapon's base, and pierces up to 2 points of Armor. Ignores the weapon's AP damage. -10% to hit.
Ares Dermal Plating (Alpha)
Military-grade subdermal protection that intersperses armored plates with pockets of ballistic gel. Passive: +2 Armor, +1 Body.
Mana Fist
A powerful magical 'punch' that pierces up to 4 Armor. Shares a cooldown with other Mana Fist spells.
Noxious Cloud
Toxic explosion.
Rigger Jumpsuit
Henry and David stand inches from one another, both men wearing the fiercest expressions they can muster. Their hatred is almost palpable. How their confrontation will play out is unclear, but one thing is certain: you have a great seat.
{{GM}}Spit flies from David's mouth, and his words tear through the room.{{/GM}}

You little worm. Can't keep up at work, so you try to save face by spreading baseless rumors about me. Pathetic!
{{GM}}Henry looks surprised, but the moment is quickly lost under the fiery glare he shoots David.{{/GM}}

I have no idea what you're talking about. But I *do* know that you've been acquiring my clientèle unfairly! And I'll tell all who will listen just what kind of a man you are: a thieving shitstain!
I'm going to make you eat those words. But I'll be damned if the Shangri-La bans me for thrashing a worthless glitch like you on their property, so we'll do this outside.

I'll be waiting.
Ares Dermal Plating (Basic)
A subdermal armor system that weaves Kevlar and ceramic plates under the skin, providing basic protection against small arms fire. Passive: +1 Armor.
Frenzy
A claw attack that can hit adjacent targets.
Yamatetsu Cyberarm (Alphaware)
Yamatetsu's alpha cyberlimbs are augmented beyond the capabilities of their organic counterparts. This is a security-grade model. Passive: +1 Strength, +5 HP.
Constrict
Strangle target with vines.
Stunball 1
Magical explosion that does -2 AP.
Fire Arrow
An arrow of fire.
Detonate All
Detonate all mines currently active.
{{GM}}The loading dock supervisor is glued to his monitor, his hand holding a sound piece up to his right ear. You hear a faint cheer come from the device, and he shoves his fist into the air in triumph.{{/GM}}

Scoooore!

{{GM}}With his eyes now off the screen, he spots you.{{/GM}}
Well, it's about time.

{{GM}}He pauses as he takes in your appearance.{{/GM}}

You really the special courier Wuxing sent to deliver our load of enviro controller chips?
None other than.
And here I thought I was delivering pizza...
Obviously. I don't lug this crap around for fun, you know.
{{GM}}Skepticism tints his expression.{{/GM}}

Let's see your credentials.
{{GM}}Show him your forged ID.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}You see his eyes dart over the ID. He glances at you before sighing and pushing it away.{{/GM}}

Checks out. Huh. Delivery standards have really dropped these days...
Take that shipment to the security station in the sub-basement. This door here will lead you to the right floor. Once you check things in at the station, head back here.
Don't wander off. Your clearance is for the sub-basement and the sub-basement *only.* The guards around here are strict as sin. Made a joke to one once, and he nearly glared me in half. I swear, they must have their sense of humor surgically removed...
Gotcha. Is it okay to leave the van here?
Thanks for the tip.
Crew's on lunch, so you should have plenty of time. I'll buzz you in once you get back.
Right. Be back soon.
{{GM}}He looks irritated.{{/GM}}

Yeah, I get it. Books, covers, don't judge them, whatever.

Still, I need to see your credentials.
Hey, you never know. Policy to check.

Speaking of... let's see your credentials.
{{GM}}The dock supervisor glances up from his screen, eager not to miss any of his program.{{/GM}}

What're you doing back here? Hurry and drop the load at security.
Right. On my way.
Datajack
A requirement for riggers, deckers, and those that want to use a Smartlink weapon.
The hallway ahead is blocked by a trio of struggling bodies.

A blackout-drunk troll hangs slung between a pair of cursing security guards, one male and one female. As you watch, they struggle valiantly to drag her down the hallway.
{{GM}}The troll's voice comes out in an inebriated roar.{{/GM}}

UNHAND me, you FOOLSH!
{{GM}}The older of the two guards, a middle-aged man with a pompadour haircut, struggles with all his might to keep his prisoner's flailing arm constrained.{{/GM}}

Don't let her go, Ho-yee! She has the strength of ten men!
Yes... sir...

{{GM}}You recognize her as the guard who was standing by the employee entrance on the show floor.

How she got roped into troll-hauling duty is anyone's guess.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The security captain locks eyes with Is0bel. He barks out an order.{{/GM}}

CLEAR THE HALL!
{{GM}}Say nothing.{{/GM}} {{GM}}Ne rien dire.{{/GM}}
Well, this doesn't look good.
Great. Another roadblock.
{{GM}}With an exaggerated motion, the troll swings her head toward Is0bel.{{/GM}}

YOU, dwarf-girl! Help me! Theesh--

{{GM}}She hiccups mightily. The sound reverberates in your ears.{{/GM}}

...Theesh DREKHEADSH want me to leave! Becaush I'm a TROLL!
Uh... what's happening here?
None of your business. You're not even hotel staff - you shouldn't be back here at all!
He hugs the troll's left arm to his chest with all of his strength, desperately trying to weigh her down.

She lifts his feet a few inches off of the floor, then slams him back down. He lets out an audible whimper.
Now clear... nnght... clear the way and report to your manager - quit fighting me, damn it! - before I talk to him for you!
{{GM}}The former door guard stares at Is0bel. Recognition dawns on her face.{{/GM}}

Hey, I remember you. You said that you had to meet some caterers up on six.

What are you doing down here?
{{CC}}Etiquette: Socialite{{/CC}} Tell them: "Sorry, I had to get more fuel canisters for the chafing dishes. We were told that you had some here."
Okay. Say "I was just checking to see if anybody down here wanted a drink."
Tell him to back off. "I don't have to answer to you, I'm not hotel personnel."
We needed more fuel for the chafing dishes, the buffet is getting cold. There was supposed to be some here.
Why would we keep cooking supplies here? If anything, they'd be in the kitchen.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Easy){{/CC}} Say: "Look, I only know what I'm told. My boss said to come here, so I did."
Say: "I don't know, but if you let me go, I'll go find out."
Y'know what, I'm done with this. Take him out, Is0bel - we're going loud.
Look, I only know what I'm told.

{{GM}}Her voice is firmer now. More confident.{{/GM}}
My boss said to come here, so I did. You do what your asshole boss tells you, don't you?

{{GM}}She tilts her head toward the now violently hiccuping troll.{{/GM}}
Nice embellishment.
Watch it, Is0bel. You don't want to piss the guy off.
The guard looks at her boss.

The security captain strains courageously against his captive's flailing arm, oblivious to everything but his own struggle.
...Look, just hurry back to the kitchen and get out of our hair.

{{GM}}She steps aside to let Is0bel pass.{{/GM}}
Good job, Is0bel.
That was close.
I can't wait until we're done with this. I'm tired of walking you through this crap.
{{GM}}There is a brief pause, then she mutters a response under her breath. The mic barely picks it up.{{/GM}}

This is exhausting. No more improvisation for me, I'm done with this. From now on, I'm your parrot - just tell me what to say and I'll say exactly that.
If that's the way you wanna play it.
All right. Sure. I'll do all the heavy lifting, then, I guess.
After what almost happened in the elevator, I think that's a good call.
{{GM}}There is a brief pause, then she mutters a response under her breath. The mic barely picks it up.{{/GM}}

*You're* tired? *I'm* the one who's actually putting her neck on the line here.

To hell with this. From now on, I'm your parrot. Just tell me what to say and I'll say exactly that.
Uh, I'm not sure. Let me go, though? I'll go find out.
Just checking to see if anyone needed a drink.

You, uh... you want a mojito?
{{GM}}The man strains against the troll's drunken efforts. His brow is beaded with sweat.{{/GM}}

You... aah! You shouldn't - HOLD STILL! - be here. Not even to offer drinks!
{{GM}}The troll looks down on Is0bel and issues a mush-mouthed plea.{{/GM}}

IGNORE these pigsh and HELP me! I'll take the runt on the left, you take the right!
The troll bucks against the guards' grasp, nearly breaking away from them.

They double down on their attempts to hold her.
{{GM}}Is0bel stares into the PDA. She looks irritated.{{/GM}}

To hell with this. It's a waste of time, and we've got a schedule to keep.
{{GM}}Her hand moves towards her weapon.{{/GM}}

What do you mean? What schedule?
{{CC}}Intelligence: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Medium){{/CC}} Tell him: "The catering schedule. We're serving dessert in fifteen minutes."
Say: "My work schedule. After I'm done here, I need to pull a double-shift at Uncle Tse's House of Pork."
Uhh... say that you misspoke? Quick, what rhymes with schedule?
To hell with it, light 'em up. We'll be up there to join you directly.
The dessert schedule.

We're dishing out pie in fifteen.
Mine. I work two jobs, damn you! Trying to put food on the table to FEED MY KIDS!

{{GM}}Her yells grow to an impressive volume, reverberating in your ears.{{/GM}}

I'm not just a caterer. I work at UNCLE TSE'S HOUSE OF PORK!
There is a moment of stunned silence.

Finally, the troll shatters it.
You work at Uncle Tse's?

That place is a vomit factory.
{{GM}}Is0bel's voice goes deadly serious.{{/GM}}

I know.
I... oh, screw it.

{{GM}}Without another word, she goes for her gun. The security guards recoil in disbelief, and the drunken troll seizes the moment to break their grip. She lets out a yelp of exultation.{{/GM}}
Without a word, Is0bel goes for her gun.

The security guards recoil in disbelief, and the drunken troll seizes the moment to break their grip. She lets out a yelp of exultation.
{{GM}}A deafening crackle of static from the intercom system draws the attention of everyone on the show floor. A second later, you hear the Security Captain's voice in glorious stereo, the intercom sounding in one ear and your PDA's earpiece in the other.{{/GM}}

Oh, shit! Take her down! Take them both down!

As a matter of fact... aaaah!

{{GM}}He pulls away as the troll jams a finger into his nose.{{/GM}}

DAMN YOU! Keep your fingers to YOURSELF! And you, dwarf... you DO answer to me!
Security has the final say on all who CAN and CAN'T be on this floor!

{{GM}}His voice rises into a scream.{{/GM}}

Now TELL ME WHAT YOU'RE DOING HERE, or you're GOING TO REGRET IT!
{{GM}}Is0bel's small voice chirps out, echoing your words.{{/GM}}

This doesn't look good.
{{GM}}Is0bel's small voice chirps out, echoing your words.{{/GM}}

Great, another roadblock.
Cross Dermal Sheath
Cross Applied Technologies' subdermal armor incorporates self-repairing materials. Passive: +1 Armor. When triggered, regenerate 6 HP per RND. Lasts 3 RNDs. Cost: 1 AP. Cooldown: 6.
Heal: 6 HP per RND
Broken Piece of Armor
A broken-off piece of armor with an unusual emblem on it.
This is a Yamaha 95000-V simsynth - a device for mixing and mastering simsense chips. Several drive bays are empty and all of the chipjacks are empty. The screen is flashing a repeated error message:

>>Warning: requested files cannot be found. Please return drives to bay and try again.
{{CC}}Decking: $(story.global_skillcheck_easy){{/CC}} {{GM}}Debug the system.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Have Is0bel debug the simsynth.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Do nothing.{{/GM}}
Banging away at the simsynth's keyboard, you manage to suspend the drive error warning for a time.

Digging into the guts of the machine's recent files, you manage to kick it into diagnostic mode. While it's not as good as having access to the full system, maybe you can learn something anyway.
>>Yamaha SimOS 5.23 system diagnostics check:

>Memory - OK!
>Drive - ERROR!
>ASIST Bus - OK!

>Beginning core dump, please wait...
The long debug spew that scrolls along the synth's screen is filled with numbers indicating recent files, playlengths, keyframes, and ASIST peak levels.

Based on the numbers you're seeing, Tong's simsynth has been hacked to remove the peak controller levels from the chips he's been burning - the required operation to make BTL chips. The delta-wave outputs for these chips push them dangerously into brain-burning territory.
The file catalog for the high-peak BTLs indicates all the files and burned chips should be stored on the missing drives and whatever was in the empty chipjacks.

Somebody's cleaned out Tong's BTL stash.
{{GM}}Is0bel studies the screen in detail as letters and numbers scroll by.{{/GM}}

Looks like Tong was cooking some BTLs here. He's hacked the peak controller output cutoffs. The delta levels on sim chips are usually about 4 to 5, 6.5 for Cal Hots. His delta peaks are pushing 12. That's brain-burning territory, $(l.name)... And all the drives and chips those BTLs were stored on are missing.
I never liked Tong, but it wasn't because he was a bad guy. I just didn't like any of the Elders. But if he was cooking chips at delta-twelve, maybe he burned somebody he shouldn't have. Maybe they flipped their lid and came after him... Or a relative did.

{{GM}}Is0bel gives you a serious look, tipping her head at the synth.{{/GM}}

The metahuman brain can't handle this kind of output. It'll shut down after a few of these.
{{GM}}Is0bel rattles out some commands on the simsynth's keyboard, stepping away after a few seconds with a look of satisfaction on her face.{{/GM}}

There. I've put the drive warning on suspend. It's in diagnostic mode only, though... Maybe we'll learn something, maybe not.
The simsynth continues to flash a warning message:

>>Warning: requested files cannot be found. Please return drives to bay and try again.
Foreign Accounts Records
Records of various business transactions. Attached to the files is a large sum of nuyen.
There are enough open ports to hook a cyberdeck up to this terminal. With so few eyes on it, it seems like a good opportunity to prod through Tsang records.
{{CC}}Decking: 1, Cyberdeck{{/CC}} {{GM}}Jack in.{{/GM}}
Burst Fire
Two attacks in one action that increases chance of critical. Uses 3 bullets.
HKPF Rigger
Body Blow
An unarmed close combat attack that does more AP damage than HP damage.
Water drips down from a leak in the ceiling to spatter against the case of this ancient terminal. It's a miracle that the thing is still functional.

A blinking green cursor awaits your input.
{{GM}}Access the terminal.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Step away.{{/GM}}
//POSTSERV 1.1 FREEWARE MAIL CLIENT
USER::CHUNG-SUN, ANSON

1. [MAIL] >>RE: NEW REGS
2. [MAIL] >>RE: DAMNED RATS
3. [MAIL] >>RE: QUARANTINE
4. [MAIL] >>RE: MEETING
{{GM}}Read the first message.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read the second message.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read the third message.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read the fourth message.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Log out of the terminal and step away.{{/GM}}
>>*Chung-Sun, Anson*
>>to: Beasley, Malvina

We need to talk about these new regulations that you keep handing down. Look, I used to be a merchant marine - I get it, I know how important procedure is on a boat, and I know the mindset that you're working against. But some of these new regs are bordering on draconian, and they're getting in the way of our maintenance crews downstairs.
Order is a good thing. Micromanaging isn't. So let's talk about it, okay?

-ACS
>>*Chung-Sun, Anson*
>>to: Huang, Cadmus

We've got a hell of an infestation going on in the lower levels, and we need to start doing something about it.

Can I count on you and your boys to help me with this? I know that M. would frown on what I'm proposing, but she isn't doing anything to help. We have to take matters into our own hands before things get ugly.

-ACS
>>*Chung-Sun, Anson*
>>to: Huang, Cadmus

This was exactly what I was afraid of, C. Those bloody rats have eaten us out of house and home, and now that their food supply is gone, they've decided to turn on us.

It's pretty clear that M. can't - or won't - use her magic to fix this. So it's on us to deal with the fallout.
I've had the upstairs maintenance crews set aside a couple of containers as a quarantine area/sickroom. It's inevitable that we're gonna start seeing people getting sick, and we need a place to shelve them.

If we don't do this, we're going to have a panic on our hands. VITAS deaths aren't pretty.

-ACS
>>*Chung-Sun, Anson*
>>to: Huang, Yasmin

Yas,

Tell your brother that I got his note, and that I'll be there. I don't know what all of this is about, but I have a guess, and if I'm right... well, I'm in.

Things have to change around here, for all of our sakes.

-ACS
Mercy Kill
+2 DMG. Can only be used on the very wounded (less than 25% HP). 99% to hit.
Direct ongoing fire damage attack
This sub-system is currently offline. It appears to be a one-way off switch for a gas system.
Fire, fire!

{{GM}}Charles rushes up to the front desk.{{/GM}}

A fire has broken out in the locker room!
{{GM}}A guard jumps to attention.{{/GM}}

What! Don't just stand there, man - show me!

Guards, report to my position. Stat!
MISDIRECTION
Central Hong Kong spills out along Victoria Harbour, all glittering chrome and neon flash against the night's darkness. The skyscrapers are a jagged nest of mirrored knives thrust into the sky, rending the clouds as they ascend into the heavens.

The Ares Asia Holdings complex squats menacingly over Chater Road - a steel and concrete tumor intertwined with nearby buildings in a web of skybridges and shared parking structures. You make your way inside, and ascend to the fifth floor - a public foyer that connects to the restricted areas of the complex.

As the elevator opens, you arrive in cold, dimly lit reception area. Beyond it, your quarry awaits.
Knight-Errant Guard
Secretary
Knight-Errant Enforcer
Knight-Errant Shaman
Ares Employee
Knight-Errant Adept
Opti
Dizzy
The Jarl
Bull
Knight-Errant Mage
Knight-Errant Captain
Knight-Errant Rigger
TARGET DUMMY
Black Ranged IC
Destroyer IC
Security Decker
White Ranged IC
Blocker IC: Rating 1
Get to Floor 27
Find a way to get to the 27th floor.
Plant Visitor Records
Alter the Ares Asia visitor records to show Golden Fong has visited the building.
Plant Camera Footage
Plant the falsified camera footage showing Golden Fong meeting with Dr. Taylor.
Plant Financial Data
Plant data that implicates Dr. Hardingham recieving bribes from Golden Fong.
Find the Location of the Research Lab
Find out what floor Taylor and Hardingham work on.
Gain Access to the Main Lab
Find a way into the prototype research lab on Floor 27.
Retreive the Prototype
Retrieve the Prototype Weapon.
Shut Off Gas
Disable the poison gas flow.
Escape the building.
Let the Runners in
Open the door so the other shadowrunners can get to safety.
Retrieve the Auto-Repair Unit
Find a Key for the Lab Safe
DrugMule Mk. 1
A mobile pharmacy, stocked to the brim with drugs and a dart launcher.
Warning: condemned area.
NO ENTRY.
The pungent smells of musty stone, grease, and the remnants of neurostun gas mix in your nostrils as you rappel down the elevator shaft. Whatever frustrated Knight-Errant security officers are in pursuit are too far away to be heard. All around you, there is only darkness and the occasional red-hued maintenance light.

As you reach the bottom and pry open the heavy elevator doors, light comes flooding into the shaft.

With any luck, you're only minutes away from the MTR station, and with it, freedom.
Knight-Errant Grenadier
Knight-Errant Conjurer
Guard Dog
Steeltooth
Shadowrunner Adept
Shadowrunner Mage
Shadowrunner Samurai
Turret
You died
Get to the MTR platform and escape.
Flush Target
The target loses their cover bonus for the rest of the turn. DMG -4, Accuracy -5%. Uses six bullets.
Triad Enforcer
Tsang Knockout Grenade
Protoype grenade weapon from Tsang Industries. It seems to have some sort of effect on neural pathways and astral connections.
Cast Ball Lightning
Ball Lightning Attack
The crowd is in a frenzy - they're shouting, screaming at the Tsang security officers who block their progress.

A dead body lies in a rapidly expanding pool of blood at their feet.
The gloves are off - they've already killed a man. This is gonna get ugly in a second.
{{GM}}Ku Feng shoots you a backward glance.{{/GM}}

Tsang security arrived here in force about an hour ago. They've been cordoning off streets and pushing people out ever since.

It looks like they're trying to take control of the inner Walled City, but the desperate poor have them outnumbered a thousand to one. The inevitable massacre should begin any second now.
The crowd surges forward, and a burst of gunfire pushes them back.
It isn't our proble--
I won't let tha--
To hell with thi--
A burst of staccato gunfire cuts your sentence off. The gunfire rips through the crowd and tears up the ground at their feet.

A warning shot - no bodies hit the floor. But the guard who fired the shot is red-faced and screaming, and his weapon is leveled directly at the crowd.
BACK AWAY! Back the FUCK away!

{{GM}}The muzzle of his weapon dips and weaves as he barks out orders. Those in the front of the crowd try to backpedal, only to run up against those surging forward from the back.{{/GM}}

I'm *warning* you! Clear the area *NOW!*
Please! This is our home! Our families are still inside!
This is for your OWN GOOD! We are here to PROTECT YOU!

{{GM}}He gesticulates wildly, spittle flying from his mouth.{{/GM}}

YOU CAN'T BE HERE! BACK AWAY! THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING!
{{CC}}Quickness: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Medium){{/CC}}{{GM}}Attack the Tsang troops.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Try to intervene.{{/GM}}
As you raise your weapon, you see them ready their own.
As you raise your weapon, the Tsang captain empties his magazine into the crowd.
Here to *protect* us? Your company *built* this accursed place!

What are you hiding? ANSWER ME!
{{GM}}His voice goes quiet. Cold.{{/GM}}

Here's your answer.
They've already shot one of these poor bastards. Any second now, they're gonna open up on the rest. I've seen enough riots to know - they always end the same way.
Any second now, they're gonna open the hose on that crowd. I've seen enough food riots put down to know.
I have witnessed such scenarios before, my friend. They always end the same way.

Any moment now, this riot will become a massacre.
The air reeks of panic sweat, false bravado, and animal terror.

Any second now, those guards are going to open fire on the crowd. It is inevitable.
The crowd surges forward, and another burst of gunfire pushes them back. This one rips through the crowd and tears up the ground at their feet.

Another warning shot - no bodies hit the floor. But the guard who fired the shot is red-faced and screaming, and his weapon is leveled directly at the crowd.
Upon descending the ladder, you find yourself in the cramped confines of a shipping container. Interior walls have been erected of corrugated aluminum, and doors have been cut to allow passage from compartment to compartment.

The air down here is ripe with the odor of rotting garbage.
Well, I was wrong. This is even more disgusting than it was above deck.

{{GM}}She glances up at you.{{/GM}}

Any idea where we should go?
No. We're just going to have to search the place.
How would I know where to go? We're both setting foot in here for the first time.
I wanna scope this entire level out. We go compartment to compartment and check everything.
{{GM}}She sweeps her gaze over the mouldering piles of garbage that surround you, her nose crinkling in distaste.{{/GM}}

Maybe we shouldn't've killed those locals.
We're better off on our own. I didn't trust those two.
Yeah, well. Hindsight is twenty-twenty.
Something tells me that we're gonna have more blood on our hands by the time we're done here.
Yeah. Maybe.

{{GM}}She reaches an arm back and hugs her deck to her side. Something about the motion makes you think of a child clutching a security blanket.{{/GM}}

C'mon. Let's go find Gobbet and get the hell out of here.
{{GM}}She reaches an arm back and hugs her deck to her side. Something about the motion makes you think of a child clutching a security blanket.{{/GM}}

C'mon. Let's go find Gobbet and get the hell out of here.
You're probably right.

{{GM}}She reaches an arm back and hugs her deck to her side. Something about the motion makes you think of a child clutching a security blanket.{{/GM}}

C'mon. Let's go find Gobbet and get the hell out of here.
Sounds fair. Thorough.

{{GM}}She sweeps her gaze over the mouldering piles of garbage that surround you, her nose crinkling in distaste.{{/GM}}

I'd rather not, but I think that it's the right call.
Sorry about the state of the place. The rats have kept our work crews too busy to worry about hauling the garbage.
But now that you're here, we'll be able to set things right. Kill off those little bastards once and for all.
We need to root out your devil rat infestation. Any idea where they're nesting?
Before we go after the rats, I want you to take me to someone in a position of authority on this wreck. Malvina, or Cadmus, say.
No time to waste. Get us to that quarantine area - we need to speak with Cadmus.
No time to waste. Take us to see Malvina - I want a word with her.
Talking can wait, let's take care of your rat problem first. Do you know where they're nesting?
We're gonna look around here for a bit before we go anywhere.
Yeah... down below. They're breeding on the level beneath our feet.

There's a way down on the other side of the deck.
I don't like this, $(l.name).

We don't know enough about what else is going on down there.
What else would be going on? We're trying to hold out against devil rats that're trying to eat us. And the raft's going to hell while we're doing it.

Please, just let us take you to the other side of the raft. You have to help us, you promised.
Show us where we need to go.
She's right. We need more intel before we commit to anything.
Follow us! We'll take you right there.
{{GM}}The woman grows agitated. You can see a glimmer of desperation in her eyes.{{/GM}}

What do you think that you're gonna find? There isn't anything! It's just us and the rats!
People, for starters. Gobbet, or Cadmus, or Malvina.
I don't know what I'm going to find. But we're searching, all the same.
{{GM}}She frowns. Glances uneasily at her companion.{{/GM}}

We don't know anyone named Gobbet. Cadmus is in quarantine, sick from a rat bite. He doesn't have long, and I doubt that you'd get anything useful to him anyway.

Chances are good that Malvina is on the lower deck, though.
She's downstairs? With the rats?
Then we need to get to the lower deck. Take us there.
I know that Gobbet is here. I'm not going anywhere until I've found her.
{{GM}}She waves her hand dismissively.{{/GM}}

She's fine. I've heard her speak on the intercom.

Her quarters down there are well-protected. I'm sure that she's had no trouble keeping the rats at bay.
In that case, take us to the access hatch.
I want to explore up here before we head downstairs.
{{GM}}The woman looks agitated, but only for a moment.{{/GM}}

All right. Fine. You've got the big guns, we aren't going to argue with you.
{{GM}}She nods eagerly.{{/GM}}

Absolutely! It's just this way.
{{GM}}The woman looks agitated, but only for a moment.{{/GM}}

Look around all you like. I hope that you find your friend.
We're gonna continue forward. When you get tired of sifting through the garbage and decide to keep your promise, look for us on the other side of the deck.

We'll show you how to find the access hatch for the lower levels.
Or Gobbet.
We don't know anyone named Gobbet.
Cadmus is sick... he's in the quarantine wing. He probably doesn't have long.

Malvina is below us, on the lower deck... she's a busy woman, though. She's the only one who's keeping this place afloat.
Take us to Cadmus, then.
Take us to Malvina. I want a word with her.
On second thought, let's just focus on killing the devil rats. Do you know where they're nesting?
Follow us! We'll take you right to him.
Follow us! We'll take you right to her.
{{GM}}Her expression clouds.{{/GM}}

All right. Fine. You've got the big guns, we aren't going to argue with you.

But it's important we get to the lower decks quickly. Things are getting worse here by the hour.
{{GM}}Is0bel fixes her dark eyes on the squatter.{{/GM}}

We'll move out when we're good and ready. You're lucky that we even agreed to help.
{{GM}}She backpedals.{{/GM}}

Of course... only when you're ready. Take your time, look around.

You're our guests here, after all.
We'll be at the other end of the deck. When you want to go down, just come look for us.
Got it. Thanks.
{{GM}}Her expression clouds, but only for a moment.{{/GM}}

Be our guest. Look around. When you're ready to meet with Cadmus, come find us - we'll be at the other end of the deck.

Just do us a favor and try to make it quick, okay? We don't want to stand around waiting all day.
{{GM}}Her expression clouds, but only for a moment.{{/GM}}

Be our guest. Look around. When you're ready to go down to meet Malvina, come find us - we'll be at the other end of the deck.

Just do us a favor and try to make it quick, okay? We don't want to stand around waiting all day.
It's a good thing that you ran into us. You wouldn't have had much luck finding Cadmus on your own.
It's a good thing that you ran into us. You wouldn't have had much luck finding Malvina on your own.
One of Kindly's enforcers bars the path from the Walled City into Heoi, blocking the walkway with his body.

A woman in a ragged shawl stands in front of him, her hands clasped, begging to be let through. He doesn't move.
Please! You have to let me through! My husband and children are already in Heoi, I need to meet them, I have to--
Nice try, but back off. You don't get in here. Nobody else does.
You should probably listen to what he says. His boss owns this town.
C'mon, man, let her through. One more person in Heoi won't hurt anything.
Then tell his boss that she's wrong! Please! I have to find my family!
It isn't my decision. Auntie Cheng gave orders.

Besides which, there're a hundred thousand other beggars behind her who'd just love to get in here. They've been banging at the gates all day. You think I should let them all through?
I don't care if you help them or not, just please, help *me!* Think of my family!
I don't know your family, woman. You probably don't even have one.

*I,* on the other hand, *do* have people in Heoi. And if I disobey Auntie Cheng, what happens to them won't be pretty.
Why does Kindly care about refugees passing through Heoi?
I understand. Kindly's just trying to keep the peace.
If they were content to pass through, she probably wouldn't. But that isn't what these people do. They get out, and they try to stay here.
With everything that's going down, the last thing that Kindly wants to have to worry about is the population of Heoi suddenly tripling. So we aren't taking anybody.

Period.
{{GM}}The refugee's tear-streaked face twists into a snarl.{{/GM}}

Pig-bastard. You won't let us through? I'll come back with so many others that you can't hope to stop us.

We can't stay in the Walled City. Not with what's coming. We *won't.*
You be my guest, woman. Bring as many friends as you like.

{{GM}}He pats a conspicuous bulge under his jacket.{{/GM}}

I'll make sure to have a bullet for each of you.
Exactly. With everything that's going down, the last thing that Kindly wants to have to worry about is the population of Heoi suddenly tripling. So we aren't taking anybody.

Period.
Smack
Koschei's hardened chassis smacks against the target, doing melee damage.
Cult Follower
Dark robes are fashionable in July.
TESTBOUNCE2
Spitting darts of TESTBOUNCE.
HKPF Grenadier
Ceremonial Combat Garb
Tailored monk's martial arts clothing beneath a modified Ares military combat vest. The best protection available for melee or hand to hand combat.
Activate Trauma Damper
Floods the brain with concentrated endorphins and enkephalins. -3 incoming damage.
A current of engrams twists and churns as it flows past. You hack into the current, capturing a cluster of distinct memories, lumpy and fat. One of them hums loudly, calling your attention.
Anticipation. The hall is long and ends at His door. He traverses the distance slowly, knowing that he is being observed by his new underlings. And there it is, newly installed, shining like a mirror on a door made from real wood - the brass nameplate.

Edward Tsang
Vice President of Special Projects

Pride swells within him.
Coup de Grace
+100 DMG, +10% accuracy. Can only attack stunned targets.
Chaos Ball I
A fiery explosion that may cause Lightning / AP DMG, Fire / HP DMG, or Acid / HP DMG ongoing for 1 RND.
On Fire: HP -6 per RND
Acid: HP -4 per RND
Shocked: AP -1 per RND
Your commlink crackles to life with an ear-splitting hiss.

Is0bel.
...Okay. I've jacked into the admin comput--

{{GM}}Static.{{/GM}}

--imitive, but I can work with it. Are you in position ye--
No, not yet.
--et to the waiting position near the VIP entra--

{{GM}}Your ears fill with a shrill electronic whine.{{/GM}}

--and use the kiosk. Remember: PerfectPersona.
Use the PerfectPersona kiosk to talk to you. Copy that.
While you're getting there, I'll start working on getting you VIP access and locating Rhom--

{{GM}}The line goes dead.{{/GM}}
Got it. I'll signal you when ready.
Is0bel? Can you hear me?
There is no response.

Whether Is0bel could hear you or not remains a mystery.
If you wanna look around the show floor any more, we should probably do it before we hit up that kiosk.

I know Izz. As soon as we call her back, she's gonna wanna be all hyperfocused on the job. No more time to socialize or line up for the Noodle Extruder.
We'll look around a bit more before we hit the kiosk.
I've seen all that I need to see here. Let's get to the kiosk and get this job over with.
If there is anything else that you'd like to see on the show floor, you'd best do it now, before we use the kiosk.

I doubt that we'll get the opportunity to afterward.
If there's any more exploring you'd like to do out here on the show floor, you'd best do it now, before we use the kiosk.

I doubt that we'll get the opportunity to afterward.
If there's anything else you want to see on the show floor, you should probably check it out now, before we get the ball rolling.

{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

Your call.
Off in the distance, the PerfectPersona kiosk shines like a beacon. The rest of the show floor bustles with activity - merchants selling hardware and software, deckers milling about, a solemn procession leading to the block of vending machines that passes for a food court.
There is no response.
HE Phosphorus Grenade
Packed with phosphorus this grenade explodes causing an additional 6 HP DMG for 2 RNDS. Strips 1 Armor from the target.
Fire: HP -6 per RND
Manabolt I
A powerful magical bolt that pierces up to 2 Armor.
Diminished Bounce
Bounces a spell with 5 less DMG.
Hellhound
As you watch, the Yama King's broken carcass withers and dissipates. Seconds later, all that's left of her is cloud of rancid mist.
Huh. That was easier than I thought it'd be.

I guess that she was hurt worse than she let on. Trying to trick us into taking a bad deal.
That doesn't mean that she won't come back. All we've done is buy ourselves some time.
That wasn't really her. It was just a projection. It won't be long before she finishes licking her wounds and sends another.
Serves her right. Raymond, you ready to turn off that machine of yours?
I b-believe that you are c-correct.

{{GM}}He points at a dingy terminal just in front of the towering machine.{{/GM}}

The control c-console is just over there. We must move q-quickly.
I h-have been ready for more that t-two decades.

{{GM}}He points at a dingy terminal just in front of the towering machine.{{/GM}}

The control c-console is just over there. We must move q-quickly.
Thing didn't put up much of a fight. I guess that she - it - was bluffing.
I can't believe it.

We beat her. She's gone.
It would seem that our Queen's injuries were more dire than she let on.

She - it - was bluffing. Trying to trick us into accepting a deal and leaving her in peace.
That was... easier than I anticipated.

The foul thing must have been bluffing.
It w-would seem that the beast was b-bluffing. T-trying to t-t-trick you into accepting a b-bad deal.
No, wait! Wait... Spare my life, I beg you. Please!

{{GM}}Drops of spit spatter from his mouth, his desperation obvious.{{/GM}}
Stop that. I'm here to take you *alive.* Don't make me change my mind.
Things could be worse, Rooster. My client could've wanted you dead. Be thankful.
Jesus, shut up.
Listen, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). We may have Rooster, but these stiffs were prob'ly just a handful of his guards. He could have more downstairs. We can't leave the same way we came in.
If we're gonna get outta here in one piece, we need to find a new exit route, fast. And I'm betting this chicken guy knows one.
Sounds like we need to ask our new friend.
I'll bet you're right. Let's ask.
Good point.
So... how about it? Where's the door you used to discreetly make your way in here?
Good point.
{{GM}}Rooster's teeth are clattering inside his head. His frame shakes uncontrollably. The realization that he's at your mercy - with no one left to defend him - is setting in.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Rooster stammers incoherently for a moment, but his words soon catch up with him.{{/GM}}

I-It's just outside of this room. To the right. But... but it's locked.
And *you* have the key, don't you?
Doesn't matter. I'm guessing you know a way to open it.
{{GM}}Search him.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}He blinks, confused, his shocked mind slowly processing your implication.{{/GM}}

Y-yes! Yes, I do.

{{GM}}He reaches into his coat pocket and withdraws a small key.{{/GM}}
I'll take that.
{{GM}}You find a small key in his coat pocket. The ornate pattern carved into its head matches patterns painted throughout the restaurant.{{/GM}}
Well, Mr. Lo. Mind pointing us to the exit?
How'd you get in here, Rooster?
Tell me where the back door is, and I'll let you keep your teeth.
Why we letting this idiot live again?
Client's orders, Duncan.
{{GM}}His mouth twists downward in disgust.{{/GM}}

What a waste of our time. A bullet in his head, and we could march outta here easy. Unless this guy knows another way out, we're not going anywhere with him raving at our side.
As the door slides open, you feel a pair of eyes on you. Turning, you find their owner: a frazzled-looking dwarf in a wine-stained catering uniform.

Her crooked name tag is emblazoned with letters in bold print: LARISSA.
Hey. Couldn't help but overhear you back there.

You need a uniform?
Maybe. You offering one?
Desperately. Can I buy one off of you?
No, I'm good.
Yes, but not for free. You do me a favor, and this uniform...

{{GM}}She tugs at the wet fabric.{{/GM}}

...Is yours.
Tell me what you want me to do.
It'd be a lot quicker and cleaner if I could just give you some cash.
I don't want that uniform. I want a clean one.
There's a guy on the show floor. An elf, one of those deckers.

Most of them are cool, but this one has been a prick to me for the entire show.
First, he tried to chat me up while I was out serving drinks, and he wouldn't take no for an answer. Creepy.

Then, when he finally got the hint, he started trying to trip me!
I managed to keep my footing the first three or four times, but he finally got me. Put his foot into the back of my knee and pushed. I hit the floor, and I took an entire tray of five-nuyen wine with me.

Now I'm drenched, the wine is coming out of my paycheck, and he's out there on the floor laughing about it.
Just point the guy out to me. I'll take care of the rest.
Why come to me? Why not get hotel security involved?
Lemme guess. You want me to beat the piss out of him?
{{GM}}She points toward a distant figure in a high-collared jacket.{{/GM}}

That's him, over there. The one with the bandanna over his face.

You knock him on his ass out there, and this uniform is yours.
I already tried that. He had some little friends that vouched for him... they all seemed to think that it was a hilarious joke. And the security camera feed was mysteriously corrupted, so I don't have any proof of what happened.
Look, I don't know if this guy is a racist, or if he has emotional problems, or what... maybe he just hates me because I'm a girl.

But if you'll knock him on his ass out there, and this uniform is yours.
All right. One broken jaw, coming up.
I think that I can handle that. Stand in the doorway, kick back, and enjoy the show.
I'm only getting your side of the story here. I'm gonna talk to this guy and see what he has to say.
{{GM}}She rubs her hands together excitedly.{{/GM}}

Ooh, boy! This is gonna be good!
I intend to.
Yeah, you go do that.

I'll bet you anything that you'll want to hit him yourself after a minute or two.
{{GM}}She nods eagerly.{{/GM}}

I don't know if this guy is a racist, or if he has emotional problems, or what... maybe he just hates me because I'm a girl. But if you'll knock him on his ass out there, this uniform is yours.
I don't need cash. I need someone to help me out.

You look like the kind of $(l.guy) who could do that, so just hear me out. This'll take you five minutes, tops, and then you'll have your uniform free of charge.
All right. Tell me what you want.
{{GM}}She huffs at you.{{/GM}}

Look, you do this for me and I'll get you into the room where they *keep* the uniforms. You can take whatever you want. Deal?
All right. Tell me what you want me to do.
Not really, no. I don't need the money.

I just need you to do something for me.
Remember the part where I overheard you? I know that you need one of these, and I can help you! I only need five minutes of your time and help.
{{GM}}The caterer's face lights up at your approach. She's wearing a fresh, clean uniform - the wine-stained one is gone.{{/GM}}

That was beautiful! Just beautiful!

It was like something out of a movie!
Where's the uniform that you promised me?
{{GM}}She gestures at a door in the corner of the room.{{/GM}}

It's right over there, in the ready room. Grab it whenever you want - you more than earned it.
Hurry up and punch that son of a bitch. I wanna see his skinny ass hit the tile.
A venom spray that causes -16 HP DMG and does -2 HP DMG that last for 2 RNDS.
Venom: HP -2 per RND
Giant wooden club of doom.
As the Yama King's body crumples, a cackling sound fills the air.

Once again, her broken body begins to knit itself back together. The flow of black ichor from her many wounds slows to a stop and reverses, the viscous fluid snaking its way back up into the holes and ruptures that it poured from.
Projections on top of projections. All aspects of our divine being, shed as easily as a lizard sheds its tail.

{{GM}}Her voice is ripe with mockery.{{/GM}}

You cannot harm us, meat. But you *have* amused us.
{{GM}}Qian Ya halts, her crowned head cocking to one side.{{/GM}}

Perhaps you are worthy of an audience after all. Perhaps...
Her voice trails off and her head tilts upward. From behind you, you can hear the pounding sound of approaching footsteps.
Semopal vz/88V (Smartlink)
Rifle: A basic Czech-made assault rifle known for being cheap, reliable, and ubiquitous. Comes with an integral Smartlink system.
Traditional Mage Robes
Robes to enhance magical abilities, but with limited physical protection. Grants +1 Willpower and +1 Charisma.
Firedrake
Class B Drone Turret
Totem Buff
Using a Totem Power that Buffs your team.
Barrel
Tailored Pheromones (Bioware)
Modified sweat glands that have been tailored to release artificial pheromones. These chemicals influence others subconsciously, granting the user a subtle edge. Passive: +1 Charisma.
Inside the private dining room, you're immediately greeted by the piercing stare of two massive dragon statues. The flickering lights are just bright enough to illuminate their bronze bodies, the effect an eerie illusion of moving scales.

Across the room stands your target, Cheung-Sing "Rooster" Lo, his thin grin distorting the awkward proportions of his face. A hulking figure stands amongst his entourage of guards. The Talon.
Hold it right there. This is a private room. You'd best back your ass through that door, or I'll paint you red.

{{GM}}More teeth than a croc, and a face so ugly it could churn a troll's stomach. The Talon leers at you from across the room, muscles tense and ready to spring at the first sign of resistance. Though something tells you he's more apt to make the first move. He speaks to you again, voice deep and dry.{{/GM}}

Ya deaf? I told you to *get out* before I wreck you!
{{GM}}Rooster raises his hand.{{/GM}}

Step back, Johnny. They know exactly where they are. Don't you, runner?
{{GM}}He nods to his guards and steps forward. The harsh style of his greased-back hair glistens in the light. It looks slick, like tar, exaggerating his slimeball visage.{{/GM}}

Let's skip the banter your kind so enjoys and move right onto business. Who sent you?

Have the Red Dragons finally tired of my evasiveness?
Or, perhaps...

The Yellow Lotus. They've been trying to wrest Kowloon from our grasp for years.

{{GM}}He studies you from within the safe reach of his guards. Crosses his arms.{{/GM}}

Well? Don't just stand there. Who sent you?
Mr. Woo sends his regards.
My client wishes to remain anonymous.
'Fraid I took a wrong turn. Where's the buffet?
I'll be damned if I let you take me to Woo.

{{GM}}Rooster spits at your feet.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}A raise of his hand, and the Talon steps forward.{{/GM}}

Talon, this miscreant has distracted us from our meal. And now, I'm afraid, it's grown cold. We must repay $(l.him) in kind. Let $(l.his) corpse cool out back when you're done.
{{GM}}The Talon flexes. His abnormal frame looks larger than ever. A half-smile crawls up his unscarred cheek.{{/GM}}

You got it, Boss. Food was shit anyway.
I don't have time for this. It doesn't matter who sent you - they're about to be sorely disappointed.

{{GM}}Rooster spits at your feet.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Rooster's face contorts into a frown.{{/GM}}

Find yourself funny, do you? You're pathetic.
I don't have time for your shitty joke and false bravado. It doesn't matter who sent you - they're about to be sorely disappointed.

{{GM}}Rooster spits at your feet.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Inside the private dining room, you're immediately greeted by the piercing stare of two massive dragon statues. The flickering lights are just bright enough to illuminate their bronze bodies, the effect an eerie illusion of slithering scales.

Across the room stands your target, Cheung-Sing "Rooster" Lo, hands trembling at his sides. A single, anxious guard stands near the door. Something has them on edge.

The Talon is missing.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Sweat drips down Rooster's gaunt face. His eyes dart back and forth across the room, trying to size you up - assess the situation. Without support, he appears nothing more than a trapped rooster who, without his talons, is defenseless. In an effort to invoke a sense of authority, he raises his voice.{{/GM}}

W-who are you? What do you want?
I've come to deliver you to my client, Mr. Lo. Don't worry - they specified that you are "not" to be harmed.
I'm kidnapping you, idiot. Let's go.
If you'll please come with me, we can make this easy. And don't try to argue. You're in a poor position with the Talon missing.
Zhou, where is the Talon? Where is the rest of my security?

{{GM}}A second passes while his eyes scour the room, looking for someone - anyone - to come to his aid.{{/GM}}

N-never you mind. Just get this street tramp out of here!
Yessir!
You don't want to do that. It's my job to skrag thugs like you. You *really* wanna fight me?
You seem eager for an ass kicking.
No Talon. No back-up. All alone. You must really like your boss.
Um. Not... not exactly. No.

{{GM}}The triad thug bolts for the door.{{/GM}}
That's what I thought.
{{GM}}His hands reflexively grab his butt.{{/GM}}

I think, actually... I'll just step outside.
Damn straight.
{{GM}}He glances at Rooster.{{/GM}}

Um. Not... not exactly. No.
{{GM}}He begins to slwoly back toward the door.{{/GM}}

'Fact, you can have him!
Good boy.
{{GM}}He balks.{{/GM}}

Kidnap? Who do you think I am - some five-year-old in a park?
{{GM}}His anger flares.{{/GM}}

How dare you speak to me as if I were a child!
The light from the nearby vendor stall stabs into your eyes, triggering a throbbing ache in the back of your skull. You stop short, squinting, as rough voices drift in on the wind. La lumière d'un étal tout proche vous transperce les yeux, provoquant une douleur lancinante à l'arrière de votre crâne. Vous vous arrêtez lentement, plissant les yeux, alors qu'une voix rugueuse vous parvient portée par le vent.
Where's everyone else? Where's the damned shipment? Où sont tous les autres? Où est ce maudit bateau?
Haven't seen them yet. We just got here. Pas encore vue. Nous devrions y aller.
{{GM}}The voice becomes irritated.{{/GM}}

Longwei's probably waiting for us, so we can haul it out of the boat for him. That lazy bastard. Let's just hang out here - let him find us.		 {{GM}}La voix est irritée.{{/GM}}

Longwei nous attend surement, alors nous pourrons le transporter hors du bateau à sa place. Ce salaud de fainéant. Nous allons attendre ici - il n'a qu'a venir nous chercher.
{{GM}}Carter keeps her voice low.{{/GM}}

Looks like we're on a stroll through Smuggler Central.		 {{GM}}Carter parle à voix basse.{{/GM}}

On dirait qu'on est tombé sur un repaire de trafiquants.
These gangers don't know we're here. We could probably just slip past. Ces gangers ne savent pas que nous sommes là. Nous devrions pouvoir nous faufiler.
Or we could clip them. They're already looking for us - might be better to take them out now, while we've got the element of surprise on our side. Ou nous pourrions nous en occuper. Ils sont déjà à notre recherche - c'est préférable de nous en occuper maintenant, pendant que nous avons l'effet de surprise de notre côté.
Security Station Card for level B3: Sub-basement
A bright red card with a large black "B3" printed on it.
Strip Armor 3
Decreases the target's Armor by 6.
Armor Stripped: Armor -6
Heal
Heal targets.
Please insert your Wuxing employee identification card.
{{GM}}Swipe spoofed ID.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Swipe employee ID.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Swipe heightened employee ID.{{/GM}}
ERROR: Invalid ID. Authentication failed.
Just a moment, $(l.sir). The scanner says your credentials didn't take. Let me see your ID.
Uh. Here you go. {{GM}}Hand over spoofed ID.{{/GM}}
Wait, I just scanned it the wrong way. Let me try again. {{GM}}Swipe employee ID.{{/GM}}
Wait, I just scanned it the wrong way. Let me try again. {{GM}}Swipe altered employee ID.{{/GM}}
Wait, forgot to renew my credentials. My mistake. I'll be right back. {{GM}}Show security override.{{/GM}}
That's all right, I'll take it up with the front desk. Be right back.
No that's all right, you don't need to see them.
{{GM}}The attendant's eyes skim your card, then go wide.{{/GM}}

Trespasser alert! Guards, detain $(l.him) - this ID's a fake!
Right, of course.

{{GM}}$+(s.he) nods.{{/GM}}

Well, go to the terminal and re-up your creds. Even with the pass, you know I can't let you through.
Yes, I do. Hand them over.
Nah.
WARNING: Clearance breach. Nighttime access prohibited.
Sorry, but it seems you're restricted to daytime access only. We can't allow you into the building proper.
Your credentials haven't changed. What are you trying to pull here?
I, uh--
Multipersonnel pass accepted. Access granted.

GREETING: Welcome, $(l.honorific) C. Pang. Have a nice evening.
Everything checks out here. Thanks.
The stillness of the Ares laboratory is suddenly rent by the unmistakable sound of an explosion. The floor trembles beneath your feet, and dust falls from the ceiling tiles.

As the echoes of the blast recede around you, the distinctive smell of atomized concrete and scorched carpeting wafts in through the vents.
{{GM}}Duncan whips his goggles across the room, scanning for a clue as to what happened.{{/GM}}

...What the hell!? Somebody set off a goddamn bomb somewhere on this floor!
That wasn't any kind of accident. Remember what Kindly told us about other runner teams getting pitched this job? I think they're about to show up.
{{GM}}Gaichu inhales sharply, breath whistling over his bared teeth.{{/GM}}

They're welcome to try. I'm not about to give up what we're after without a fight.
{{GM}}Racter taps out a few commands on his bracer, and doesn't even look up when he speaks.{{/GM}}

I'm not about to let anyone deny us our prize. If they're smart, they'll try to talk to us. If they're not, they're just another obstacle.
Well, it's never a real party until some random uninvited guests show up, drink your beer, and knock over your bookshelf.

{{GM}}Gobbet shrugs, her indifference apparent on her face.{{/GM}}

Or at least it's not for any party I've ever thrown.
I smell cordite, plastic explosives - probably C-12 - and chemical fire suppression.

{{GM}}Gaichu tastes the air in a slow and deliberate fashion.{{/GM}}

Based on the concrete, it wasn't simply a 'goddamn bomb'. It was a deliberate demolition.
Nibbles, your nose is the coolest accessory a girl could have.

{{GM}}Gobbet pauses a moment, considering.{{/GM}}

Second-coolest. Your sword is the first. So make sure whoever set off that bomb stays on the pointy end of it, okay?
If that's the case, we should prepare for the worst.

{{GM}}Racter taps out a few commands on his bracer, prompting Koschei to make a slight whirring noise as if it were tensing up.{{/GM}}

Kindly mentioned other runner teams being after the same laser prototype. If that's what we heard, they're going to bring every soldier in this facility right to us.
{{GM}}Gobbet addresses Duncan with a cheerful expression.{{/GM}}

And this time, we didn't do it! Up high, big man!

{{GM}}Gobbet raises her hand for a high five. It goes unreturned, and she sheepishly lowers her hand.{{/GM}}
I don't like the idea of having a gunfight with other runners.
Nothing's changed for us. We do the job.
With an explosion like that, our window just got a lot shorter.
Me neither, but I like the idea of losing out on a payday even less. Keep your fingers crossed that they're willing to parley. If they're not...

{{GM}}Duncan slowly draws his thumb across his throat, and shrugs.{{/GM}}

We got guns for a reason.
Roger that.

Keep your eyes open, don't make any mistakes, and we'll get out of this in one piece. Anyone takes a shot at you, put 'em down hard and fast.
No shit.

Come on, let's move! The longer we sit here jabbering, the closer backup gets to us.
{{GM}}Racter busily taps out some commands on his arm bracer. Koschei whirrs and flexes its legs beside him.{{/GM}}

I'm seeing a lot of radio traffic. Whatever that blast was, Ares wasn't expecting it. I think we're about to run face-first into another runner team, $(l.name).
Shit.

{{GM}}Is0bel shakes her head, balling up her fists.{{/GM}}

If it's not one thing, it's another. We never catch a damn break.
It's not as bad as all that.

If they're setting off bombs, the Knight-Errant forces in the building will be more concerned with them than they are with us. Stay behind me, and I will protect you.
Chin up, Izz. We've had worse luck back when we were kids... And this time, we have a hell of a lot more firepower.
Look on the bright side, Clanky. Maybe they won't be one of those "shoot first and loot the corpses" kind of teams.

Maybe we'll only have to fight all of the Knight-Errant goons they've dragged along with them.
I have found that planning for the best possible outcome generally leads only to disappointment and trips to the hospital.
Wonderful. If tradition holds, they'll posture needlessly, claim exploits and work they never participated in, and then expect us to be meekly cowed.

{{GM}}Gaichu glances in your direction.{{/GM}}

Thank you again, $(l.name), for breaking from tradition on that score.
We've still got a job to do.
I'd prefer to avoid it as well. But they may not give us a choice.

The only advice I can give is to hope for a rational conversation.
Quite right. And I'm not in the mood to play testosterone-driven games with a bunch of street punks with something to prove.
I expect the window may now be closed, and we'll have to break a hole in the proverbial wall in order to get out.

We should get to it.
{{GM}}Gobbet freezes, her eyes wild as they search across the lab.{{/GM}}

I don't like this at all, $(l.name)... We're in the middle of a goddamn Ares facility, we're surrounded by Knight-Errant soldiers, and a bomb just went off. We need to cut and run.
You worry too much, Gobbet. Just stand behind me, and I am certain I will be a magnet for all of the bullets intended for you.

A shadowrunner is bad enough, but a ghoul? They will hardly even notice you.
He kinda has a point there, Gobbet.

If you had to shoot a small-ish ork or a ghoul, wouldn't you go for the monster first?
If we bail out now, we'll face the same kind of opposition except we won't get paid.

We've come this far, and we're going to finish the job.
We'll be fine. Just keep your eyes open.
{{GM}}Gobbet sighs heavily, shoulders slumping.{{/GM}}

Fine. You win. But you get to walk in front, so you get shot first!
Yeah, yeah... Professional standards and all that crap.

{{GM}}Gobbet shakes her head.{{/GM}}

If we die here, I'm gonna haunt the hell out of you. Just so you know.
See? That's why we should just leave now... But we're not going to, are we? No. Of course not.

Fine! Have it your way!
That was C-12. Sounded like... One point five kilograms. Inside an elevator shaft.

I also hear people approaching. Four at first, followed by six to eight.
{{GM}}Is0bel opens her mouth, closes it, and takes a deep breath before trying again.{{/GM}}

Gaichu? There's something I want to tell you.
{{GM}}Gaichu turns his blank eyes toward Is0bel.{{/GM}}

You are about to remind me that I unnerve you, am an abomination, and you don't trust me?
Actually, I wanted to say how impressed I am with your hearing.

{{GM}}Is0bel pauses.{{/GM}}

That other stuff is totally true, though.
I can only hope that your meaning is metaphorical, rather than literal. Open or closed, my eyes have no bearing on my abilities in combat.
Yes. You are, of course, correct.

Come. We've had enough distractions.
Undoubtedly true. All the more reason to move quickly now.
Uh... Chief? I think we're about to be up to our eyeballs in guards. Nobody's gonna ignore an explosion like that.
Why can't a run ever go smoothly?
Well, we're almost done. We can grab the prototype and go.
Gods, spirits, whatever higher powers you wanna call on... They all seem to hate bored shadowrunners, I guess. If it's not a double-cross, it's a missing file or a fixer who can't be found.
Yeah, let's do that. I don't want to stick around any longer than I have to. Ares is kinda unfriendly when bombs go off.
The combatants in the next room are quite obviously shadowrunners. Their gear is mismatched, they wear no uniforms, and the mixure of technical gear and heavy armor indicates they're prepared for anything.
UCAS milspec, customized for the shadows. Grants +1 Strength and +5 HP.
{{GM}}The security captain studies his fingernail cuticles with quiet intensity. When you approach, he drones out a standard challenge.{{/GM}}

Please have your ID--

{{GM}}Then he registers who's standing in front of him, and he raises his weapon.{{/GM}}

Hold it right there. You have two seconds to produce an Omega-level ID before I open fire.
Hey, no need for this to get bloody.
I must've left my Omega-level ID in my other pants. Sorry!
{{GM}}Attack.{{/GM}} Oh please, let me have the honor of opening fire first.
Bring 'em down!
{{GM}}The security captain studies his fingernail cuticles with quiet intensity. When you approach, he drones out a standard challenge.{{/GM}}

Please have your ID--

{{GM}}Then he registers your maintenance uniform and raises his weapon.{{/GM}}

Okay, hold on. You should know that maintenance is not allowed to be in here without an Omega-level escort. You have two seconds to produce an Omega-level ID before I open fire.
Well, you asked for it...
Take 'em down!
HONG KONG. A stable and prosperous port of call in a sea of chaos, warfare, and political turmoil. The Hong Kong Free Enterprise Zone is a land of contradictions - it is one of the Sixth World's most successful centers of business, and also one of its most dangerous sprawl sites. A land of bright lights, gleaming towers, and restless spirits, where life is cheap and everything is for sale.
>>User: Dr. Taylor, P.

Ares Asia Holdings wishes you a productive day.
{{GM}}Plant financial data.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Project Records{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Email{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Log out.{{/GM}}
After a few moments, the datachip's light flashes green, indicating the data has been uploaded.
>>"Redline" Prototype directory active. Authorized users only.
Remember: security is everyone's business.

Enter query.
{{GM}}Security Briefing{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Emitter Aperture Refinement{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Prior Emitter Research{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Go back.{{/GM}}
Attention: Ares Asia Holdings employees and residents.

Last week, Knight-Errant officers responsible for the security of this facility received several reports of suspicious activity in the public area of the building. At 13:31 last Tuesday, security footage shows a Troll, approximately 20-28 years of age, entering the public mezzanine areas of the building. The subject was seen attempting to gain access to restricted areas.
The subject exited the facility before Knight-Errant could intercept and question him. Reports from Ares citizenry indicates the subject was asking about research labs working on directed energy weapons.

Several hours later, the subject was seen re-entering the building from a side entrance, wearing a custodial uniform.
Knight-Errant guards attempted to detain the subject, but during their arrest attempt both guards were severely injured.

Any employee or resident should contact security immediately if they see this troll. Do not attempt to detain him or interact with him in any way. The subject is considered highly dangerous.
{{GM}}There is a note attached from Knight-Errant security.{{/GM}}

Dr. Taylor, it's come to our attention that you have not been treating this threat with the seriousness we believe it deserves. Please remember that the safety of your person and your research is not solely your concern - a strike against you is a strike against all of Ares Macrotechnology. When engaging in off-site entertainment from now on, we would request that you travel with a group. Thank you.
I've had to change the emitter and focusing array in our latest MP IV "Redline" prototype. Prior to this, we were using the same emitter array as the MP Laser III, since it's a proven design. Unfortunately, that array is too large to continue using at this point, and there's legacy software that we need to update. The largest problem is that the outer lens is 3 milimeters too large for our new housing.
In light of that, I've commissioned twenty new focusing arrays. They're being manufactured in Detroit, but should arrive next week at the latest. The fabrication technique is the same type that we acquired from Zeiss last year - it should give us superior beam coherence even in high dust and fog situations.

-Taylor
>>Personal lotes on MP Laser I research.

I've been going back through the files from Ares Arms research on the original MP Laser. A lot of the work was done by one Dr. Elliot Mills-Fargo. Unfortunately, Mills-Fargo is dead. From what I can gather, his son killed him during a drunken argument. What's curious is that most of the research files have been heavily redacted. It's all very curious.
It's almost as if Ares Arms doesn't want anyone to know anything about the initial research. It's very curious, given that we're all supposed to be working toward the same thing. Aren't we?

From what I can gather, Mills-Fargo had a radically different design philosophy than Hardingham and I.
Most of Mills-Fargo's notes indicate he was primarily interested in purely vector soliton fiber lasers, rather than our own dye-doped matrix technology. From what I understand, that's also the basis for Winter Systems' own attempts at a man-portable laser solution. I can't find any evidence of how they would have developed that technology without access to Mills-Fargo's work, though. Curious.

-Taylor
>>Ares Asia Holdings integrated email system.
"Security. Safety. Progress."

Enter query.
{{GM}}>You killjoy!{{/GM}}
{{GM}}>PUB TIME!!1!{{/GM}}
{{GM}}>Re: Door Code{{/GM}}
{{GM}}>Project 2231{{/GM}}
>> Hardingham, I cannot BELIEVE you. Did you tattle on me to Knight-Errant, saying I'd blown off the security brief and ran to go drink alone? Psh, I'm a senior researcher, not a bloody prisoner. If I decide to go have a drink on my own, that's my business. Besides, Central and Admiralty are both crawling with police at any hour. They're AAA-secure, for god's sake.

-Taylor
>> Listen, H. I really do hear what you're saying about security, and I promise I'm not taking it lightly. I was thinking we could hit up The Pawn after the meeting tomorrow. I've got eight or so takers from the lab, and Knight-Errant promised to loan us a low-profile bodyguard to make sure nothing goes awry. How's that sound to you?

-Taylor
>> They changed your door code while you were out on vacation. The chips got a little fried when someone forgot to close the shutters in the laser lab when they were testing one of the new emitters. It's 23847.
>> H, one of the researchers downstairs hit me up in a meeting about supporting something called "Project 2231". It's headquartered in the Algonquin-Manitou Council - some godforsaken black site called Complex #68G. I guess it has something to do with that debacle in Chicago - research into cleaning up the CEZ and whatnot. I thought it'd be nice if we could give them a hand - just lend them a prototype or the specs, let 'em test the laser out there.

-Taylor
Manabolt IV
A powerful magical bolt that pierces up to 4 Armor.
Healing: 4 HP per RND
The Black Hat
The coolest hat in the shadows.
Apprentice's Outfit
Often provided to apprentice magic users by their mentors as a reward. Grants +1 Willpower and +1 Charisma.
Ceska Black Scorpion (Smartlink)
A common machine pistol. Has limited stopping power but fires bursts from a large clip. Has a Smartlink for greater accuracy.
Manabolt III
A powerful magical bolt that pierces up to 3 Armor.
Strip Armor 1
Decreases the target's Armor by 2.
Armor Stripped: Armor -2
Ares Hand Razors
Uses the Close Combat skill for accuracy and Cyber Affinity for critical chance. DMG: Strength + 3. Causes 2 bleeding DMG. May do AP damage. Pierces up to 1 Armor.
Bleeding: HP -2 per RND
This access panel is unlocked. Peering inside, you notice there are connections to building systems such as cameras and electrical power.
{{CC}}Decking: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Easy){{/CC}} {{GM}}Hack the camera feed.{{/GM}}
Is0bel, will you grab the camera feed off this for me?
{{GM}}Pipe the camera feed to your PDA.{{/GM}}
You expertly splice the line to the camera subsystem and override the control signal.
Sure thing.

{{GM}}Deftly rattling out commands on her cyberdeck, Is0bel shakes her head.{{/GM}}

Amateur security. Strictly amateur.
Your commlink's screen springs to life, and you are suddenly viewing what must be the interior of the facility.

Two Renraku security officers are clustered around a wall panel that appears to be malfunctioning.
This thing's been giving me trouble all week. The gas pressure control circuit's running fifty five amps running at a hundred thousand volts... Any time there's a glitch in the system, it shorts out.

I don't know what to tell you. I ain't a mechanic.
{{CC}}Drone Control: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Easy){{/CC}} {{GM}}Overload the fuses on the wall panel.{{/GM}}
Racter, can you rewire this to blow that panel?
The panel explodes in a shower of pressurized gas and sparks, searing armor and burning exposed flesh.
No problem. Give me one moment, and...

Ahh, there we have it.
Fire Arrow 1
AK-97 (Smartlink)
Rifle: The most common assault rifle in the world, with an integral Smartlink system.
Street Thug
Eye Datajack
A datajack concealed inside of a cybereye. A favorite of spies and infiltrators.
Execute Assassin ESP
Creates an Assassin Expert System Program.
Chomp
A bite from the powerful jaws of trained attack dog.
Alley Punk
Dressed one step above a street ganger.
Manabolt II
Strip Armor 2
Decreases the target's Armor by 4.
Armor Stripped: Armor -4
Guard
Using Guard Power
Pain Editor (Bioware)
A cluster of specialized nervous tissue that filters out pain responses. Passive: +1 Willpower, -1 Intelligence.
The door console features only a slot for a keycard.
{{GM}}Use access card.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Leave the console alone.{{/GM}}
Yamatetsu Hand Razors
Uses the Close Combat skill for accuracy and Cyber Affinity for critical chance. DMG: Strength + 5. Causes 3 bleeding DMG. May do AP DMG. Pierces up to 2 Armor.
Bleeding: HP -3 per RND
A pair of men, refugees from the looks of them, stand near the city entrance.

They're absorbed by their conversation, voices low. The elf sways nervously as he speaks, but the human is steadfast. His gravelly words are harder to make out than the elf's, but you can hear the agitation in them. Neither man seems aware of your presence.
Tellin' you, first chance we get, we've gotta get out of here. Leave the country. Things are so backed up that even if the Walled City were gutted and cleaned tomorrow, we'd still be wading through the fallout. Prejudice wouldn't just disappear.
{{GM}}The elf's head dips up and down in agreement.{{/GM}}

I know, I know... You're right. You always are.

I spoke to my sister. She's on board. Didn't take much convincing, either. Those few of us who know about the monsters don't want to be anywhere near the city. Things like that... they leave a mark on a place. It'll never be right again.
Hey. You guys talking about the Walled City?
Did you just say something about monsters?
Overheard your conversation. Sounds like you're planning a trip.
{{GM}}A pair of bright eyes meet yours. The elf gives you a shy smile.{{/GM}}

H-hello... Didn't see you there. We were just discussing, ah... the state of the city. Things are bleak. Isn't that right, Eron?

{{GM}}He rubs his arms as if he's cold, but the outside air is humid.{{/GM}}
The other man glowers at you.
{{GM}}Noticing the deliberate hostility of his friend, the elf tries to fill the awkward silence. He rambles.{{/GM}}

Yes, yes. As if we didn't have enough to contend with before - gangs, starvation, disease - now corporate officers are starting to invade our personal lives. And with no subtlety. They treat us like wild dogs. Do this, do that, sit, stay... Good boy. As thanks, we won't kill your family.
Corporate officers, huh? They have anything to do with those monsters you mentioned earlier?
I'm not here to shut you down. I'm on your side. It'll help me out if I know what's happening in in there, but I have a feeling you're hiding something.
They'll move on eventually. See ya.
M-monsters? No, no, you must have misheard me. No monsters here. Only corporate tyrants. What a silly thing to mishear. *Monsters.*

{{GM}}He lets out a forced chuckle.{{/GM}}
That's right. Monsters.

{{GM}}He keeps his voice low. Without breaking eye contact, he leans in toward you.{{/GM}}
The Yama Kings.

{{GM}}He pats the back of his flustered friend.{{/GM}}

It's alright, Lorne. Might as well start talking about it. Not everyone's gonna believe us, but those who do can prepare themselves. Like us.
{{GM}}Lorne sways uncomfortably, but dips his head up and down in agreement. The man continues.{{/GM}}

It started as a whisper... a rumor. The Yama Kings are coming to feast. Coming to feast *on us.* The Walled City.
Well, we took it for what it was: superstitious bullshit. That is, until things started happening.

Now, the Walled City's always been its own kind of hell. But these last few months, somehow, things started getting *worse.* People got more aggressive, others started to spiral emotionally, and our dreams grew more intense, more... frightening.
It's the Yama Kings. We're sure of it. They're going to destroy our souls and eat our bodies. We have to leave, but... there are so many people who can't. I just wish we could take them all, Eron...

{{GM}}A small tremble shakes his willowy frame.{{/GM}}
Impossible, Lorne. Most we can do is save ourselves. Let's just concentrate on getting out of alive, alright?

{{GM}}Eron returns his hard gaze to you.{{/GM}}

So now you know. Monsters - Yama Kings - are descending upon us from their ethereal thrones. Coming to rip our essences apart. The sooner we get out of here, the better.
The Yama Kings are no more real than fairies. You're abandoning your city and friends for nothing.
I understand. There's something dark at work in the Walled City, and you're wise for wanting to get out of here. But you'd better get out of here soon. Things are really starting to heat up.
You do what you think's best. If leaving this place behind puts your minds at ease, then go for it.
Not for nothing. For our lives.

I'd've thought someone like you would understand. You had the look of a survivor about you. Guess I was wrong.
{{GM}}Lorne looks at Eron, fear in his eyes.{{/GM}}

Yes, soon. My sister's ready whenever we are.
{{GM}}Eron gives him a curt nod.{{/GM}}

Alright. We'll make plans right away.

Thanks, stranger.
{{GM}}Eron gives you a curt nod.{{/GM}}

Thanks, stranger.
{{GM}}A pair of bright eyes meet yours. The elf gives you a shy smile.{{/GM}}

H-hello... Didn't see you there. We were just discussing, ah... the state of the city. Things are bleak, you know? We need a break from it. A family vacation, so to say. Isn't that right, Eron?

{{GM}}He rubs his arms as if he's cold, but the outside air is humid.{{/GM}}
Yeah? You folks from the Walled City vacation much?
Sounds to me like you're running from something.
Fun. Enjoy yourselves.
{{GM}}Your loaded question sends the elf into a fit of nervousness.{{/GM}}

I-I, ah... It's not common, b-but sometimes, under the right conditions, um... We know some people, you see...

The Walled City is just in such a mess right now - we need a break.
{{GM}}Your observation sends the elf into a fit of nervousness.{{/GM}}

R-running? No. Well, sort of. The Walled City's under a lot of stress. We just want a break, is all... But running? No. I'm not sure why you'd think that...
Poison Darts 3
Spitting darts of poison.
Panic
An area of effect throwable that causes affected targets to ignore their foes for 1 RND.
Panicked: Ignoring Foes
Dual Blur II
Reduces chance for enemies to hit target ally by 35%, and increases their Movement by 2. Also affects the caster. Lasts one round. Shares a cooldown with other Blur spells.
Blur: To be hit -35%, Movement +2
Ballistic Cloth Suit
A tailored suit interwoven with graphene-aramid composite fibers. Lends an air of quiet authority and class.
Cast Acid Bolt
A conjurer's basic acid bolt. Does damage over time to the target.
Heat Wave
Using Heat Wave Power
HKPF Conjurer
The PerfectPersona kiosk flickers to life at your approach.

A debug menu pops onto the screen, along with a text prompt in all-caps.
$++(l.name). ENTER THE FOLLOWING KEYCODE INTO THIS KIOSK:

1052RGF-KLLPE98-XVL0237-ZZKP0NV
{{GM}}Enter the keycode.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Step back.{{/GM}}
You tap the code on the kiosk's keyboard. A moment later, a series of five loud popping sounds rattles off in your commlink's earpiece.

Is0bel's voice fills your ear, crisper and cleaner than it was before.
Testing, testing, one-two-three... can you hear me, $(l.name)?
Yeah, I hear you. What was that?
A command-line code for the kiosk to connect with your commlink via direct link.

{{GM}}A hint of smugness creeps into her voice.{{/GM}}

This way, we can bypass using a comm signal entirely.
Clever.
I know.

As long as you remain within a couple of feet of the kiosk, we shouldn't have any problems. Wander too far outside of that range and you're gonna get static again.
So basically, I can't move from this spot.
All right. Now that we're all linked up, give me a second and I'll locate Rhombus...

{{GM}}You hear the sound of rattling keystrokes, coupled with Is0bel muttering under her breath.{{/GM}}
The line falls silent.

The silence stretches. Ten seconds. Twenty.

Then you hear Is0bel explode.
What the hell?! He already *has* one?

How the fuck does *Rhombus* merit a VIP pass when *I* don’t?!
Wait. He's already in the VIP area?
Let me guess: this is where the plan goes off the rails.
Another run gone sideways. Happens every time.
{{GM}}She rails into your earpiece, fuming.{{/GM}}

I’m *twice* the decker that he is, and everybody knows it! What makes him a VIP when I'm not?!
Calm down, Is0bel. At least we know where he is.
Jealous much?
Maybe he has friends in high places.
She takes a moment to calm herself.

You can almost feel the heat of her anger radiating through your earpiece.
All right. I know which room he's staying in now.

{{GM}}Another strained silence.{{/GM}}

I'll just need a few minutes to get you your VIP upgra--
The line goes dead.
That wasn't good. What do you think we shou--
A series of clicks erupts in your ear, cutting Duncan's sentence short.

Your PDA begins blinking: you are receiving a video-chat request.
{{GM}}Answer the call.{{/GM}}
Is0bel blossoms onto the screen, along with a pair of towering security guards.

The line that connected her to the admin terminal hangs loose from its socket.
I'm gonna ask you again. What the hell are you doing in here?

Take your time, and make sure that you're telling me the truth. I'll know if you don't.
{{GM}}Is0bel stammers helplessly.{{/GM}}

I... ah... well, I was just looking for the person who ordered this coffee--
What, you were looking for him in the Matrix?

And besides, you don't have any coffee. So try again.
{{GM}}She continues to sputter. Her eyes dart toward the screen, fixing on you. You can see the desperation on her face.{{/GM}}

Well, I need to, uh...
All right, Is0bel, listen up. Say what I say and you'll be fine. Say "okay" if you understand.
Do I have to coach you out of this? Really? All right, just say what I say, I guess.
We're doing the Cyrano thing, aren't we? Is that what we're doing now?
Okay.
Last chance. Start talking sense, or spend the night with the HKPF.
"I'm sorry, I'm just nervous. I've never been in trouble before."
"My coworkers sent me in here as a prank. I feel like such a fool!"
"I just wanted to surprise my boyfriend. He works in this room."
I'm sorry, I'm just nervous.

{{GM}}The words sound rehearsed, but they're tinged with enough genuine panic to be plausible.{{/GM}}

I've never been in trouble before.
{{GM}}The guard glances at his counterpart.{{/GM}}

We don't have time for this. Just kick her out and be done with it.
{{GM}}The guard in front of Is0bel straightens.{{/GM}}

...Yeah, you're probably right.

{{GM}}She looks down on Is0bel, hands on her hips.{{/GM}}

I'm gonna let you go with a warning this time - but only this once. If I catch you anywhere near this room again, I'm turning you over to the police. Got it?
But I--
You're getting out of this easy, Is0bel. Just go along with it.
Don't argue with her. Just let them kick you out of the room.
You ready to go loud? Because if you keep arguing with that guard, we're going to have to start shooting.
{{GM}}She clenches her jaw. Looks up at the guard.{{/GM}}

...Yes, sir.
Good call.
The line goes quiet as she moves out of the server room.
My co-workers sent me in here as a prank.

{{GM}}The words sound rehearsed, but they're tinged with enough genuine panic to be plausible.{{/GM}}

I feel dumb.
No, I'm not saying...

{{GM}}She catches herself. Clenches her jaw.{{/GM}}

...I just wanted to surprise my boyfriend. Apparently he works here.
...I guess?
...Yes. Please. I need help.
You're telling me.

All right, this is your last chance. Start talking sense, or spend the night with the HKPF.
Huh. That wasn't good. What should we--
A series of clicks erupts in your ear, cutting Gobbet's sentence short.

Your PDA begins blinking: you are receiving a video-chat request.
Well, my friend. What to do now...? Shall we--
A series of clicks erupts in your ear, cutting Racter's sentence short.

Your PDA begins blinking: you are receiving a video-chat request.
I say we cut down the door, find the dwarf, and--
A series of clicks erupts in your ear, cutting Gaichu's sentence short.

Your PDA begins blinking: you are receiving a video-chat request.
A few seconds later, a series of clicks erupts in your ear.

Your PDA begins blinking: you are receiving a video-chat request.
That's what I said, right? Now that we're all linked up, give me a second and I'll locate Rhombus...

{{GM}}You hear the sound of rattling keystrokes, coupled with Is0bel muttering under her breath.{{/GM}}
Not bad.
Nice, Izz.
Very clever.
Magnification Turret
Designed for long range takedowns, this turret becomes much more accurate at extreme range.
Fairlight Excalibur
A top-of-the-line that every decker dreams of owning. Adds 15s when hacking Blocker IC.
Synthacardium Mk 1 (Bioware)
Artificially enhanced myocardium enables a user to perform strenuous activities at higher levels than would otherwise be possible. Passive: +1 Dodge, +1 Throwing Weapons.
HMHVV Infected Skull
Vampire Fangs
Infection: HP -2 per RND
The insulation on these heavy wires is cracked. They buzz and crackle occasionally, as stray drips from the awning strike them.
Basic emergency response supplies. The low-end variety used in impoverished areas.
Unarmed Combat
No weapon. No problem. Damage is equal to your Strength.
$(story.HK_Hub_Name)
$(story.HK_HubLoadingText)
Gobbet
Gaichu
Mercenary: Adept
Is0bel
Mercenary: Decker
Racter
Mercenary: Rigger
Duncan
Intercom
Kindly Cheng
Frederick Ka Fai
Callum Ka Fai
Ermine Ka Fai
Ten Armed Ambrose
Spider Shen
Reliable Matthew
Maximum Law
Crafty Xu
Strangler Bao
Kindly's LT
Koschei
Words words words.
Henry Ka Fai
Whampoan Puppet
Raymond
Triad Guard
$(story.Global_KindlyLieutenantName)
Reporter
Walled City Victim
Gin
Shyu
Lau
Tsang Captain
Knight Errant Guard
Knight Errant Enforcer
New Civilian
Tsang Patrol
Make Your Way Into the Heart of the Walled City
Talk to the Triad Soldier
Report Back to Kindly Cheng
Go to Bed
Catch Up with Gobbet
Catch Up with Is0bel
Catch Up with Duncan
Catch Up with Racter
Catch Up with Gaichu
AutoTurret Burst Gun
Brent Shirkey
A mage traveling through Hong Kong.
Mercenary: Mage
Compound Attack
A slash followed up by a kick. Pierces up to 1 Armor. May do AP DMG.
This terminal is running a demo of Aztechnology's new format-agnostic cyberdeck calibration software.
A display devoted to a third-party cooling system for terminals and cyberdecks.
A hot noodle dispenser, complete with extruder settings for ramen, lamian, jook-sing, and shahe fen.
A rack of high-capacity stick memory devices (patent pending).
The newest iteration of Shiawase's "SculptIT!" sculpted system authoring software.
A working model of Fuchi's new Cyber-7 Slim, a retooled Cyber-7 with a thinner form-factor and a burnished aluminum case.
Info about the conference room schedule. Tells you about a high level exec in Conference room 3 on the bottom floor.
DECKCON 2056
A chartered bus carries you from Kai Tak to a mid-range hotel in Tsuen Wan. All around you, the happy chatter of your fellow passengers fills your ears. You hear tech-speak in a variety of languages and dialects; talk about new lines of drones and decks, arguments over innovations in datajack technology, and baseless speculation about the next season of Urban Brawl.

Your guest badge - a glossy slip of laminated paper emblazoned with a flashy logo - hangs on a lanyard around your neck. Your ticket into the convention hall, and the only disguise that you should need.

The bus drops you in front of the Harbour Spires hotel, and you promptly circle around back to find a service entrance. Is0bel should be waiting for you inside.
Kitchen Manager
Kitchen Worker
$(scene.Convention_KitchenWorkerName)
$(scene.Convention_ConGoerTargetName)
$(scene.Convention_ConGoer1Name)
$(scene.Convention_ConGoer2Name)
$(scene.Convention_ConGoer3Name)
$(scene.Convention_TrollDeckerName)
Convention Security Guard
Hotel Security Guard
$(scene.Convention_ConGoerElevator)
Convention Security Rigger
Convention Security Captain
$(scene.Convention_DrunkTrollName)
Rhombus
Catering Manager
$(scene.Convention_VIPDeckerName)
$(scene.Convention_ConGoerAngryName)
Mr. Lin
$(scene.Convention_ConGoer4Name)
Shady Man
Decker
$(scene.Convention_ConGoer6Name)
$(scene.Convention_ConGoer5Name)
Convention Staffer
Admin Computer
Locate & Trap Rhombus
Get a Kitchen Uniform
Give Is0bel the Kitchen Uniform
Find Con Goer, Punch In Face
Return to Caterer to get Uniform
Wait near the VIP Entrance for Is0bel's Signal
Keep Is0bel Alive
You Died.
Blend In & Explore the Convention Floor
Guide Is0bel back to Convention Floor
Have Is0bel Open the VIP Door
Fight Off Security
Go to Rhombus's Suite
Leave the Hotel
Escape the Hotel
Is0bel must be present.
{{GM}}The local up ahead beckons you forward.{{/GM}}

It's just up this way... through this door here.
As you approach, something catches your eye. A vent in the wall behind the locals.

Movement. Something living must be hidden inside.
Behind you! More devil rats!
As you watch, the locals continue to wave for you, unaware of what's happening behind them.

There is a flurry of motion, and something large explodes out of the vent.
{{GM}}Gobbet lands in a crouch, her weapon raised.{{/GM}}

Don't go in there! It's a trap!
Panic-stricken, they begin to turn, their weapons raised.

There is a flurry of motion, and something large explodes out of the vent.
As you advance down the hallway, you catch a flash of motion ahead.

Something large, rustling in a wall-mounted ventilation duct.
{{GM}}Raise your weapon.{{/GM}}
You ready your weapon just as something explodes out of the ductwork.

The figure tumbles to the ground and lands with a meaty thwack.
Victory Industrious Coverall
Top-of-the-line Industrious protective gear. Room for tools, too. Grants +1 Intelligence, +1 Drone Control, and +1 Drone Combat.
Industrious Line Jumpsuit
Industrial-strength coveralls. Protects against dangers from accidents to paranormal critters. +1 Intelligence and +1 Drone Combat.
A master of Renraku's proprietary combat techniques. Deadly with blade, tooth, and claw.
Crew: Red Samurai
Friends within a range of 3 squares gain Medium cover. Last 4 RNDS.
Guard: Medium Cover
A bite from the powerful jaws of a hellbeast.
The coolest hat in the shadows. Grants +1 Intelligence.
Secure Samurai Clothing
Basic clothing for the shadowrunning Street Samurai.
Chrome Alley is crowded with Heoi residents, crushed into the bunker-like space. People you know.

Clutching their heads. Crying. Some bloody.
$(L.name)! I can't talk. I've got a whole buncha--

{{GM}}Ambrose falls silent, and stares at you.{{/GM}}

For hell, $(L.name)... you look like you've been through a train wreck.
I need a metric shit ton of medical supplies and no questions.
Just show me your supply cabinet.
I need some hardcore cyber, right now.
You need anything?
I'm going back out. Good-bye.
Now take the crap, and go make it count for something.
Are you out of your gourd? Right *now?*

{{GM}}Ambrose's jaw drops, flabbergasted. Then his brow wrinkles. and his jaw tightens.{{/GM}}

You've got that look in your eye. I know that look. The *heavy work* look.
All right, I'll make time... but don't expect a soft wake-up from the anesthetic or a fuzzy bedside manner.

Get your ass on the table!
Pit stop's over, knucklehead. Get out there and race.
Yeah, get out there and do something! I can't even drink, I've got so many people coming apart at the seams.

{{GM}}He nods to a couple of old men leaning up against the south wall, handing a bottle of rice whiskey back and forth.{{/GM}}

Deshi and JP are self-medicating on my behalf.
Actually, there's something specific you can do, too: get Maximum Law off the street... I mean, docks, whatever.

Or at least arm his ass.
You got anything to arm him with?
I'll see what I can do.
Sorry, I've got bigger problems. He's on his own.
Me? Hell, I need everything I've got to watch the door!

{{GM}}Ambrose looks around the clinic.{{/GM}}

Well, actually... I've got Matthew's drones in here, and the Death Machine up in the ceiling. I guess I do have something for Law...
A waldo arm swings over, and reaches under Ambrose's chair.

With a clack, it pulls out something black and metallic: an Uzi III. Laser sights, folding stock, dripping a sling and cloth ammunition pouches.
This is Raquel. She's got two spare mags in the pouches.

Tell him not to shoot his foot off.
Ambrose, what's with the crappy gun?
This is gonna be a shit show... but okay.
I'll tell him, but I make no guarantees.
What!? The Uzi III is solid gun, once you rebuild it. I mean, if it's stock, it's a piece of crud, but that's just because they stamp 'em out like cupcakes.

But Raquel here... she's a *princess!*

{{GM}}Ambrose braces himself, as if getting ready to sign away his soul.{{/GM}}

Go give Law my little princess.
All right, I got no more time for this.

{{GM}}Ambrose fidgets, and stares around the clinic. His eyes are wide.{{/GM}}

Go do your thing. I've got to do mine.
Right now, that's all I ask.
Yeah, well... me too.
Godspeed, $(L.name).

And if you can do something to stop my neighborhood going to hell... that'd be rock solid.
{{GM}}Ambrose looks exhausted. He slouches like a sack of rice in his chair, gray bags under his eyes. Despite his bedraggled appearance, robot arms whiz around the clinic, reassembling it from its stint as a refugee bunker.{{/GM}}

$(L.name)... boy, it's good to see you...
That was nuts. You see the news reports?

"Meth factory's cyanide gas spill in the Walled City causes hysteria."
What a crock. I don't know what that was, but it was *not* that. I'll tell you what it was...

{{GM}}A mechanical arm swings over, and points its gripper claw severely at you.{{/GM}}

It was some dodgy, crazy-ass shit!
Yeah... I imagine so.
Do you really want to know?
Well, I should get going.
Well, maybe we'll find out what really happened... eventually. Once we cut through all the official lies.

One thing I've learned about living under the Walled City, though: it's a freaky, screwed-up, bad-mojo place. You never know what's gonna happen.
{{GM}}He looks you up and down.{{/GM}}

You know what it was, don't you?
Yes. I do.
I know something about it.
{{GM}}Wink.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}He purses his lips, and stares at you penetratingly.{{/GM}}

Tell me about it later. I've got to take care of the neighborhood, right now... it's a mess around here.
But once things are back settled, come around again. Drinks are on me. Storytelling's on you.

{{GM}}His habitual grin creeps back across his face.{{/GM}}

I make a habit of knowing nothing about the drifter runners who move through... but in this case, I bet you've got one helluva tale to tell.
Oh, that's how it is... is it? Well... I catch your drift...
Yeah, you probably should. Hey...
{{GM}}The mechanical arm that pointed at you earlier pats you on the shoulder... affably. Almost tentatively.{{/GM}}

Word is you worked off your favors to Kindly. Nice job. That's gotta be an all-time speed record.
So... you gonna stick around?
I don't know yet.
Nah, I'm done with the Kong.
Hong Kong's gotten under my skin. I think I'm staying.
I've got things overseas I need to get back to.
{{GM}}Smile silently and leave.{{/GM}}
Yeah, fair enough. You've got your own history; that I know.

Well, while you're figuring it out...
Then good luck. You ever come through the Kong, you know where to find me. Otherwise, you never met me, of course.

But hey, if your engine stalls on the way out of town...
{{GM}}Ambrose grins widely at you. His living eye twinkles.{{/GM}}

Sahara Combat League races, every Tuesday night. Desert Wars preseason starts next week on Thursday. Potluck style. I provide some wicked home brew that's also good for cleaning engine parts, but otherwise it's bring-your-own-beer.
A bunch of the smuggler boys come over, and Deshi, Jacques, Fang... lotsa good folks.

You know Skippy, the bonesaw in Whampoa Garden? He comes over, too. Crafty also sometimes, believe it or not. She's a sweetie.
Don't be late.

{{GM}}His signature grin grows even wider.{{/GM}}

Laughing at the preshow corporate newsfeeds is the best part.
See you then. BYOB... got it.
Catch you later.
Good-bye, Ambrose. It's been real.
See you then.
Good-bye, $(L.name). You take care.
{{GM}}His grin collapses into a winsome smile.{{/GM}}

Shoot straight. Watch your back. Always keep a trauma patch and a few spare mags.
{{GM}}He winks.{{/GM}}

If you can avoid it, don't deal with triads... but never, ever, on your mother's soul, cut a deal with a dragon.
This clinic looks like it just hosted a party.

Spindly mechanical arms swing from unobtrusive wall mounts - pulling down crepe paper ribbons and scooping food platters and empty beer bottles into biohazard bags.
A severely crippled Caucasian man sits in a wheelchair, amidst the maelstrom of mess and robotics.

He's in his forties. Thick beard. Tungsten earrings. Beer belly. One cybereye. Both his legs are missing - one at the hip, the other at the knee. He has only one arm, and only three fingers remain on his surviving hand. His face and arm show the scars of reconstructive surgery.
He grins widely at you, regarding you with bloodshot eyes.

He’s clearly hung over.
Hey! I’m Ambrose!

{{GM}}He shouts cheerfully in English, his words piling together in a loose Midwestern accent.{{/GM}}

They call me "Ten-Arms." Welcome to the Kong, fellow UCAS-ian!
He chuckles, his chest shaking with mirth.

A waldo arm springs to life and swings over to him. Its menacing metal pincer momentarily sets a cigarette between his lips - just long enough for him to inhale from it.
Kindly says you're all right. What can I do you for?
Hey, my fellow country$(L.man) returns! You want some chips and dip? Help yourself, it's on the engine block.

{{GM}}A spider drone walks past you, carrying a biohazard bag with a severed arm in it.{{/GM}}

There's a big Sahara Combat League race tonight. Everybody's coming over... you want to come? No, I bet Kindly's keeping you busy.
{{GM}}Ambrose looks up from what appears to be a housework drone on the operating table.{{/GM}}

Scrub up and get me the defibrillator paddles, $(L.name). I'm installing some headers on this guy's liver, and now we're going to shock him back to life!

{{GM}}Ambrose bursts into laughter.{{/GM}}

But seriously, hand me the lube. What can I do you for, today?
{{GM}}Ambrose is staring at flat-panel monitor on the wall. A local news channel is zoomed in on an ultramodern aircraft carrier, moored in Victoria Harbour.{{/GM}}

You following the IJN story? A Kensai fighter wing from the Masamune did an "honorary flyby" of the Executive Council meeting today. They're rattling the saber hard. Everybody's being courteous as hell, but *nobody's* blinking.
{{GM}}Ambrose looks rougher and more tired than usual.{{/GM}}

These dreams are getting out of hand, $(L.name). You've got 'em too, right?

I *normally* wake up more tired than when I fell asleep, but this is nuts.
{{GM}}Ambrose lies limp in his wheelchair while his spider drone tinkers delicately on a huge bionic lower leg... which appears to be attached to a dismembered troll thigh. Ambrose reanimates as you drawn near.{{/GM}}

$(L.name)... I'm doing some delicate work here. Just reaching a good point to pause, actually. Okay... what's up?
{{GM}}Ambrose looks exhausted. He's staring blankly, a glass of amber whiskey next to him. Engine parts litter the floor of the operating theater.{{/GM}}

Hey, $(L.name). Big typhoon on the way in. Better batten down the hatches.

{{GM}}A robot arm swings over for him to take a weary drag from a cigarette.{{/GM}}

It's gonna be a kicker.
{{GM}}Ambrose is still cleaning up, cheerfully whistling along to muted doom metal music.{{/GM}}

Hey, $(L.name). What can I do you for?
{{GM}}Ambrose is snoozing in his wheelchair, apparently saving up energy to watch the Sahara Combat League race.{{/GM}}

Hrrrmph? Whuzzup?
{{GM}}Ambrose is still tinkering away on a housework drone.{{/GM}}

I don't know what they did to this poor cog. It's really something else. Remind me to never have toddlers, okay?
{{GM}}Ambrose is staring at footage of fighter planes on the wall-mounted trideo monitor. He looks sheepishly your way, then grins.{{/GM}}

I can't help myself... they're just such beautiful machines! That IJN Masamune has one helluva flight deck...
{{GM}}Ambrose is clearly snoozing. As you approach, he startles into motion.{{/GM}}

I'm awake! I'm awake! Just resting my eyes. What can I do you for?
{{GM}}Ambrose is still working on the giant leg. He sits limp in his wheelchair, while nearly a dozen mechanical armatures orchestrate a dance around the operating table.{{/GM}}

{{GM}}The arms pause. He reanimates, blinking groggily.{{/GM}}

$(L.name)... hey. Ugh... what can I do you for?
{{GM}}Ambrose anxiously sips his whiskey.{{/GM}}

Big storm coming in, $(L.name). I'm gonna bed down soon. You need something?
{{GM}}Muted retro-doom metal pervades Chrome Alley like an industrial spill of undead dreams. Ambrose whistles cheerfully along.{{/GM}}

Hey, $(L.name)! What can I do you for?
You're a doctor...?
What do you do here?
Show me your services.
Your front door could stop a bulldozer. Why so fortified?
Have you been having dreams, Ambrose? Nightmares?
The IJN? The Masamune? What are you talking about?
What are you doing...? Is that someone's leg?
What's the deal with the typhoon?
You're from the UCAS Midwest... How'd you land in Hong Kong?
You were a Hong Kong shadowrunner...
You came here as a runner, and now you're a busted-up doc... what happened?
I'm ready to hear about how you got hurt now.
So... after you got smashed up, how did you become a *street doc?*
What happened with Karen?
Who are you, Ambrose... really?
I'm here to pick up Reliable Matthew's medicine.
Let's talk about Reliable Matthew.
You're pretty banged up. Why haven't you installed some bionic limbs?
You mentioned "essence." Tell me about it.
Good-bye, Ambrose. Time for me to go.
Sure I am! I'm a rigger. A rigger-doctor...

A ROCTOR!

{{GM}}Ambrose bursts into laughter - then stops and clutches his head.{{/GM}}

Oh man, I cannot laugh hard today. Too much partying last night... it hurts.
I'm not board certified, but don't worry - I should be!

I'm full-on skilled. My work’s Yellow Lotus guaranteed and *precisely* in accordance with World Medical Association standards.
Everybody in Heoi comes to me... 'cause I'm the only option!

{{GM}}Ambrose chuckles delightedly.{{/GM}}
Very well, roctor.
I guess that makes you my only option, too.
Sounds good to me!
Wait... how did a rigger end up operating a clinic?
Right on!

Let's get you tricked out. Unless you just want to bullshit - which I'm down for, too.
Hey, beggars can't be choosers, right? Don't worry, I take care of people here real good.
How do you think? My meat’s not much to look at, but I’m called Ten-Arms because I can run ten armatures at once.

{{GM}}Ambrose giggles, jiggling in his wheelchair.{{/GM}}

My question is: why don’t more surgeons do it this way?
I was more asking how you got your medical training.
Good question.
Maybe because they don't want a first career as a rigger, on top of six years of residency??
I have a colorful history. Let's leave it at that.
Glad you agree. Surgery is a whole lot closer to mechanics than most people think.
Yeah, the career path is kinda underdeveloped.
{{GM}}Ambrose pats himself proudly on the chest with a robotic arm that swings over from a wall unit.{{/GM}}

Makes me one-of-a-kind... except for all the rigger surgeons that *are* out there. Which is actually a lot, they're just not as good at the rigging as me.
What do I do? Tune-ups and engine rebuilds - on your ass!

I do it all: first aid, second aid, surgery, cybernetics, obstetrics, euthanasia... I'm your one-stop shop for health and beauty!

Well, maybe not beauty.
Can you install me with combat 'ware?
I don't modify myself. Any reason I'd come around here, if not for medical gear?
What sort of mechanical services do you offer?
Let's talk about something else.
You know it! You got the coin and the essence, I'll trick you out like a bulldozer with ground effects and a turret.

I've got it all: bionic limbs, wired reflexes. deckerware, blood filters, synthetic muscle, bone lacing, greased bearings, ground effects, tight bolts.
The full range of Chrome Alley's services is something that we like to keep beneath the HKPF's radar.

{{GM}}Ambrose winks.{{/GM}}
Shoot... this is a friendly little neighborhood. I love it when people come by and bullshit. Hell, I host birthdays.

{{GM}}Ambrose's spider drone swings a bottle of coffee liqueur over to his nose. He sniffs it gingerly.{{/GM}}

Nope... that's no good anymore. Full of spit and cigarette ash.
Oh, nothing you'd be interested in.

Right now I'm mostly doing engine mechanics and electrician stuff. I send Maximum Law and Reliable Matthew any work they can handle.
It's really just a hobby and service to the community. I make my nut with the clinic.

{{GM}}He looks fondly over at the massive, partially assembled V8 engine occupying part of the operating theater.{{/GM}}

That baby's gonna be a *goddess* when I'm done with her.
Sure thing. You don't mind if I keep cleaning while we talk, do you? 'Cause I'm *gonna!*

{{GM}}Ambrose bursts into laughter at his own joke. The spindly robotic arms around you redouble their sweeping and wiping.{{/GM}}
Sure thing. Tune-up, or spare parts?
Cyberware.
Medical supplies.
I'll take that V8 engine, and a box of chocolates.
Come back to the garage soon.
{{GM}}Ambrose bursts into laughter.{{/GM}}

I like you; you've got good taste... but that engine is family!

Seriously, what do you want?
Are you kidding? Have you any *idea* how much all the stuff in here is worth?

This is a high-capital operation - and life's dangerous for a guy missing most of his members, tooling up smugglers and criminals.
Lemme tell you what, though: someone busts in here, they're gonna be in a *world* of hurt.

{{GM}}Ambrose chuckles evilly.{{/GM}}

There's a lot more than pipes and wires up in the false ceiling, and I've got Kindly's crew and the Club 88 boys on the panic button. They know which side their bread is chromed on.
What, you thinking of trying to knock me over?

{{GM}}He laughs uproariously, but it's not clear if he's kidding.{{/GM}}
Nightmares? Hell, $(L.name)... that's my life!

I curl up with a bottle of vodka and a handful of pills every night. But if you mean the "toothy hunting horror" dream... yeah, I've been having it.

Shit, it's just one more nightmare.
{{GM}}Ambrose drops his voice, and leans forward a little in his wheelchair.{{/GM}}

Lemme tell you, though: I've been doing a *brisk* business in sleep aids.
Just today, someone asked me for some ketamine.

Ketamine! That stuff is a horse tranquilizer. What the hell made them think of that?
Can you think of any medical reason we'd all be having the same nightmare?
Can I have some ketamine?
Thanks, Ambrose.
Nope. Even if we were all *doing* something similar, intensively, it shouldn't happen. Our experiences are all too different.

I've heard of mages and shamans who are somehow connecting to each other sharing dreams, but that's all.
{{GM}}Ambrose waves his hand dismissively.{{/GM}}

Hell, what do I know? I'm not a doctor, I'm just a guy who subscribes to "Psychological Modernista."

If you want to know about dreams, ask Crafty. My formal diagnosis is that something fuckin' weird is going on.
Hell no! If I had ketamine, I'd take it myself!

{{GM}}He chuckles.{{/GM}}

But seriously... it's not something that's good to self-prescribe. You eat a bunch of ketamine, it's not going to make you feel well rested.
No problem. Just doing my part to tamp down the crazy.
The Imperial Japanese Navy. They've parked the carrier Masamune's battle group in Hong Kong for a visit. They're trying to intimidate the city.
Nobody's having it, not even the Japancorps.

It looks like it's being driven by some sort of weird internal Japanese pissing match. The imperial militarists want to cow Hong Kong and bring it under the umbrella.
However, almost every megacorp - including all the Japancorps - want Hong Kong to remain independent.

Tensions are high.
Is there any chance that Japan will take over the Hong Kong Free Enterprise Zone?
Do I have anything to worry about?
That's all I need to know. Let's get down to business.
No way, not in a million years. This kind of rooster show goes down all the time.

Worst that'll happen is a bunch more posturing: like, the IJN has an "accidental" fire incident with a coastal boat. Somebody test-fires an antiship missile. The Port Authority finds the Masamune's paperwork lacking and charges them exorbitant harbor fees... noise like that.
They're a bunch of square-haired idiots with muscle cars, revving at each other.
Just stay out of smuggler hulls. The IJN likes to go on sprees of blowing them up, to show how "well protected" HK would be under the yoke.

{{GM}}Ambrose snorts in amusement.{{/GM}}

Those "honorary flyover" fighters had live ordnance loaded! Ridiculous!
Say what you will, though... that Kensai multirole fighter is a sweet bird.

{{GM}}Ambrose ogles a close-up of one of the sharklike jets, on the wall screen.{{/GM}}

Twin Mitsubishi double-aught-delta turbofan engines, ramjets, thrust vectoring, generation four fight-by-wire... Hey gorgeous.
Yeah: don't go into a bar full of drunk Japanese sailors with a "Free San Francisco" T-shirt on!

{{GM}}Ambrose snickers.{{/GM}}
This whole IJN drama is gonna go on like it always does: the Japanese Navy will eventually realize no one is even paying attention. Then they're gonna steam off in a huff, and maybe blow a few smugglers out of the water.

Happens all the time.
My pleasure. I can only talk about politics so much, anyway.
Bah, politics! I can only talk about them so much. Let's move on.
It will be. It's a vat-grown biological upper on a cybernetic lower. I'm merging the two together. It's going to give this poor guy the upper leg he wants back, with the lower leg he needs.

{{GM}}His voice is hushed.{{/GM}}

You're interested, huh? Okay, check this out... I'll be back.
Ambrose goes limp. A half-dozen robotic arms suddenly pulse in a balletic surge of activity, working on the leg... bristling with needles, scalpels, forceps, microsolderers, glue, and various other tools.

For several minutes, there's no sound but quiet clicking, and the hum of machinery. When the work is complete, the slender robotic arms draw back.
They hover near the ceiling, around the operating area... like giant, attentive stick bugs.
{{GM}}Ambrose's eyes flutter back open. He continues talking, hardly skipping a beat.{{/GM}}

This guy works in the tunnels, with his feet in sewage all day. He got some kind of flesh-eating trench rot. It went right up his leg. Nearly killed him. They had to amputate at the hip.
I'm giving him his upper leg back, but using a chrome lower leg so it won't happen again.
That must cost a lot for a sewer worker.
Pretty cool, Ambrose.
Fascinating. That's not what I'm here for, though.
Yeah, it would. That's why I'm not charging him.

{{GM}}Ambrose shrugs, as if suddenly embarrassed.{{/GM}}

Someone else grew the meat leg... I can't do that. I had this old prosthetic lying around already. It's a beater, but it'll last for years if he takes care of it.
Hey, uh... so what can I do you for?
This is nothing. You should see what they're doing in research now: growing tissue so it interweaves with mechanical matrices, wild shit like that.

Supposedly they can now genotype a fetus in the first trimester, take a stem cell from it, and grow upgraded organs for it by the start of the third trimester - then implant them in utero, and still have a natural birth.

It''s incredible. It's the start of superhumans.
Speaking of supermetahumans... I bet you're not here to talk about this leg.
I sure hope not.

What's up?
It's your first typhoon, isn't it? Typhoons grow out in the Pacific, then come crashing into the coast. The biggest ones hit Category 7... real monsters. Unreal.

{{GM}}Ambrose swirls his whiskey disconsolately.{{/GM}}

This one's just a big wet huffer. Streets are gonna flood. Aircraft will be grounded. This one's Awakened, so get ready for a lot of communications interference... and get your galoshes. It's gonna be *wet.*
{{GM}}He gives you a sidelong glance, a sly look in his eyes.{{/GM}}

Good time for running, in storms... all that wind and rain obscures surveillance. The curfew clears the streets. Cops and security contractors are all tied up.
We're at sea level here... what will the storm surge do to Heoi?
I'm surprised you're not throwing a typhoon party.
Noted. I want to talk about something else.
Nothing. The Xirang Wall will seal all of Victoria Harbour behind a big concrete breakwater. It shuts down the harbor and keeps sea level constant.

Have you seen the harbor wall activated before? It's a miracle of engineering... it'll stop a two-meter surge with seven-meter wind waves.
Nobody's in the mood for it. I'm not either. These dreams are driving everyone crazy.

{{GM}}He takes a big slug of his whiskey. A mechanical arm from the wheelchair absently fills the glass back up.{{/GM}}

Fortunately, I have special training for dealing with dreams.
{{GM}}Ambrose bites one of his nails, and regards you with a hint of suspicion.{{/GM}}

Well... that's a long story. And kinda personal.

It involved some jobs. A girl. A real good reason to leave Chicago. A whole shit ton of guns and money.
Guns and money were involved? Sounds like a good story... shadowrunning?
Chicago... are you following the news of the quarantine?
Hong Kong seems like a long way to go just to get a break from Chicago.
A girl was involved in you getting here, huh?
I've heard enough. Thanks for talking.
Yeah, stuff like that.

{{GM}}Ambrose smiles. He seems to warm up, a little.{{/GM}}

I was a hardcore vehicle rigger, back then... before Johnny Law cracked down on road rigs.
Man, those were the cowboy days... freaky as hell, but great to remember.

{{GM}}Ambrose gets a wistful look on his face.{{/GM}}
We'd rebuild trucks in chop shops. Reinforce the frames, bolt armor on, mod the suspension with robotics...

Drive 'em right through the front windows of buildings, then bash aside Lone Star cruisers on the way out.

Good times.
You do that in Hong Kong, you get auto-barricades and a missile enema. Crying shame.
Anyway, uh... I needed to get out of Chi-Town. Spread my wings.

{{GM}}A nearby spider drone fidgets.{{/GM}}

You know how that goes.
{{GM}}Ambrose's face darkens.{{/GM}}

Yeah, I am.

It's a terrible thing that's just happened there. My old 'hood is inside the Containment Zone. Lotta good peeps, locked behind that wall.
I heard it's a VITAS plague outbreak.
I read the postings on your wall... the ones about "bug spirits."
{{CC}}Etiquette: Shadowrunner{{/CC}} Supposedly, it's insect spirits. But it's being covered up.
Sounds rough. Let's move on.
Yeah, well... maybe. That's the official story.
I don't know if you log into Shadowland, but people have been sneaking files out of the zone, showing some kind of crazy-ass giant insects in there.

They're calling'em "bug spirits."
{{GM}}Ambrose shakes his head sadly.{{/GM}}

VITAS plague, bug spirits... I'm not sure which is more scary.
Yeah... some of the leaked material is pretty convincing.

{{GM}}Ambrose shakes his head sadly.{{/GM}}

Mega-VITAS plague, bug spirits... I'm not sure which is more scary.
I know. I saw the leaked material, too. Some of the footage is pretty convincing.

{{GM}}Ambrose shakes his head sadly.{{/GM}}

Mega-VITAS plague, bug spirits... I'm not sure which is more scary.
Hell... maybe it's the walking dead.

Think about it: we've got at least four HMHVV variants. I think it's only a matter of time until we get zombies.
{{GM}}Ambrose gives a nervous shiver. The nearby robotic arms tremble briefly.{{/GM}}

I'd take zombies over these "bug spirit" things, tell you what.
I've been gone from Chicago for more than ten years. It's ancient history to me.
{{GM}}Ambrose smiles, but there's a steely look in his eyes.{{/GM}}

Sometimes, a guy just needs a change of scene.
Yeah, there was...

{{GM}}He shrugs awkwardly, as if to make light of it. His voice has a hint of strain in it.{{/GM}}

That's a story for another day.
No problem. It's a pleasure.

I left Chicago, and eventually landed in the Kong. That's really the gist of it.
Hey, it's grand digging up the wreckage of the past, $(L.name)... but time's wasting. I left Chicago, I landed in the Kong. After a while of running the Kong shadows, I landed here - in Chrome Alley. That's really the gist of it.

Now we'd better get back to earning a living.
I was.

{{GM}}He looks down at the remnant of his body, scarred and dismembered.{{/GM}}

I sure don't look much like one now.
{{GM}}Ambrose yawns and stretches, straining his leg stump and scarred arm in opposite directions.{{/GM}}

Man, that feels good.
So, there's a particular way this kind of conversation goes. I don't know if you're familiar with it...
I don't say shit. You don't say shit.
No, but I suspect that it involves delicacy.
We show each other our butt tattoos?
{{CC}}Etiquette: Security{{/CC}} I presume we share useful intelligence, washed of incriminating data.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Shadowrunner{{/CC}} Yeah: we orbit around each other for awhile, then tacitly agree to speak in only the vaguest of terms.
We GOSSIP!
Yup.
Listen: I'm circumspect about my past. And you're a new, active runner, so I don't want to know *any* of your story. It's only a liability to me.

{{GM}}Ambrose props himself up, painfully, and leans forward a little. His living eye has an intelligent gleam to it.{{/GM}}

So let's make this conversation useful.
I'll cut the BS and give you some down-low on Hong Kong, from an expat runner perspective. In return, you don't dig for my jobs list.

Deal?
Deal.
Sure, why not.
Actually, I'm already at home here.
Ah, save it.
Rock solid.
Hong Kong's a good lily pad for a derby crasher like yourself, $(L.name).

The shadows are deep. The money flows. It's friendly to foreigners - and there's no *real* government. The whole place is run by corporations and syndicates.
However, as fresh meat off the boat, you've got to decide who you want to be.

Foreign runners follow three career paths in the Kong: they assimilate, they burn their bridges and get out fast, or they die.
If you're a short-timer, you can be as violent and splashy as you want. But...

{{GM}}A waldo arm swings over his shoulder, and points emphatically at you with its claw.{{/GM}}

If you're in for the long haul, learn the local arts: discretion, restraint, respect. Get that long-term face, and *don't* embarrass people.
The Hong Kong shadows *grind* through expendable runners, who are loaded up with bad face and then dumped in Victoria Harbour.

So whatever you do, watch your back.
I aim to hit hard and get out fast.
So Kindly's keeping us around for her untouchable work, huh?
Interesting. What else have you got?
Anything I can do to mitigate the risk?
Great, thanks for the tips. I've got other business to attend to.
Then your aggression and facelessness are an asset Kindly can sell. Do as you will, short-timer.
Yeah, most likely. You're not just deniable, you're disposable - and she can hire that out.
So: this isn't Seattle. Decide who you want to be.

{{GM}}Ambrose shrugs - a lopsided gesture, with the stump of his missing arm bound in scar tissue.{{/GM}}
The other thing to remember is that Hong Kong is a really complex place.

It's one of the great global cities, with enclaves of every major megacorp. It's a syndicate town. It's a refugee magnet. And it's Guangdong.
At some level, anything goes here... but, uh...

{{GM}}Ambrose takes a deep breath, and continues in a tone of low appreciation.{{/GM}}

When in doubt, assume that old Hong Kong tradition rules.
I say that as a loudmouthed bastard: be polite. Be modest. Honor favors. Maintain face. Give respect... and always treat people's time as valuable.
You seem pretty into this, Ambrose.
Seriously, how much does that play into shadowrunning?
Go on.
Hong Kong fascinates me.

I used to hate it here. Now I love it.
{{GM}}Ambrose takes a big breath, and sighs - contentedly.{{/GM}}

I've found a nice little peace. If you survive, maybe you can, too - and you sure do seem like a survivor.
People know who I am, but only in the network. Kindly runs this neighborhood like a separate country.

You paddle a boat across the canal, and no one's ever heard of me, and never wi--
{{GM}}Ambrose suddenly stops himself, as if he realizes what he's saying. He finishes lamely.{{/GM}}

Anyway... it's private.
You're not a wanted man, are you, Ambrose?
We speak the same language, Ambrose.
Understood.
Sounds like something went sideways, back in those runner days that you don't talk about.
There ain't no paper out on Ambrose Rokatansky, if that's what you're asking. I'm clean as a whistle.
Well, that's my wisdom.
{{GM}}Ambrose breaks into a chuckle.{{/GM}}

Wait, what am I saying?

My wisdom is you can never be too low profile, too lawyered up, or too well armed.
Good. I'm glad we both appreciate having a little puddle of quiet.
No, Captain Obvious.

{{GM}}Ambrose's voice is laden with irritated sarcasm.{{/GM}}

I learned everything I just told you from the tai chi dude at the end of the dock... that's also where I got the overuse injury that put me in this chair.
{{GM}}He sighs.{{/GM}}

I kinda like you, $(L.name), in spite of your choice moments.

Watch yourself, out there.
It might not affect whether you take a job, or whether you shoot back, but it does affect the way you comport yourself.

It just all depends on who you want to be in the Kong.
What else?

Well, Hong Kong is a very complex place.
Just keep your head on a swivel.

If you're only planning to be here for a couple months and then vanish, cash in big... but if you want a life here, you've got to play by the rules.
Then you must have adjusted way faster than I did.
Okay, then. Good luck.
That's an understatement.
{{GM}}Ambrose snickers.{{/GM}}

Where the hell did Kindly dig you up? Wait, don't answer that...
That's a damn fine idea.
{{GM}}Ambrose looks at you approvingly.{{/GM}}

The grapevine says it's your first rodeo, but I'm not sure I believe that.
{{GM}}Ambrose gives you a completely level, calm gaze. No expression.{{/GM}}

I'm... going to interpret that as wit.
Hey, I'm not busted up, you insensitive jerk! I'm *economy size.*

{{GM}}Ambrose erupts into laugher, slapping the side of his wheelchair. He quickly devolves into shameless giggling.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}He stops giggling, and cocks a sober eye at you.{{/GM}}

Seriously, though... that's some heavy shit. It'll take awhile to tell.

Do you really want to know?
Yes, I do.
Never mind, I don't want to hear any more.
Maybe another time.
{{GM}}He appraises you, quietly.{{/GM}}

Well... you're doing good, $(L.name). I feel okay about telling you this.
A run went bad.

{{GM}}Ambrose spits on the floor, emphatically - in clear defiance of his own prominent "SANITARY SPACE - NO SPITTING" sign.{{/GM}}

*Real bad.*
They used to call me "Ripshot."

I was on a ten-man crew. We were led by this ex-army troll named Icebreaker. Former combat engineer. Brutal guy.
We did shadowrunning, armed robbery, office invasion, underworld hits, antibranding... just about anything, as long as we could make money and hide our tracks.
Ten people? That's huge.
Sounds like a good deal.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Gang{{/CC}} That sounds more like a heist crew than a runner team.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Shadowrunner{{/CC}} Antibranding? That's usually a euphemism for attacking someone's image with false-flag terrorism.
It was. We were Icebreaker's own little army.
It was, if you like that kind of thing.

We were Icebreaker's own little army.
It kinda was.

Shadowrunning, robbery, rackets... it was all the same to us.
A lot of our work was high profile. Real violent. We dumped a lot of bodies in the harbor.
Then, we had this one job.

{{GM}}Ambrose pauses. He takes a deep breath.{{/GM}}

Hey, I can sum this up real quick. Otherwise, I tend to get long-winded. What do you want?
Sum it up.
Give me the full story.
Hey, is there a point to this? Have you got any work for me, or are we just sharing?
Ambrose... is there anything you need? Are there any actionables that will come out of this?
Ah, forget it... I'm not interested.
We got ambushed while raiding a research lab. Everybody got wiped out, but me and Karen, our infiltration specialist.

I got *seriously* messed up.
She kept me alive, and I drove us out of there.

That's it. End of career.
We were breaking into an R&D facility. It was a vanilla job: cheap rent-a-cops, flawed security system. No problem.

It was going like clockwork. I was out in the command van, on overwatch...
BAM! Something hit the van like a freight train.

{{GM}}Ambrose grits his teeth. His body visibly tenses at the memory.{{/GM}}

The walls crushed in on me. There was a flash of light, then darkness... stabbing, everywhere. Pressure like a mountain falling on me. Feeling crushed to pulp... then I blacked out.
Ambrose falls silent. He seems to be somewhere far away, in his mind. The seconds tick by.
I think I get the drift. Finish your story.
Keeping it short: you got a smashed up and quit running?
{{GM}}Wait for Ambrose to continue.{{/GM}}
Ramble on, Captain Boring...
Yeah, it's really pretty simple... we got ambushed. *Slammed.*
Whoever hit us, they crushed the command van with a front-end loader. Karen, our glove woman, cut me out of the wreck.
Glove woman?
Karen got hold of a security car. She kept me alive while I drove us out.

Bam... End of career.
Our infiltrator. You know, our catwoman. The person who defeats barriers as smoothly and quietly as a pair of silk gloves.
When I woke up again, I was in pitch darkness. I could hardly breath. I was being burned, by hot metal. The pain was... indescribable.
There was a shrieking, like the metal was screaming around me... and sparks - someone was cutting through the wreck.

A huge pressure lifted off me. There was a blinding light.
{{GM}}Ambrose gives a tense sigh. He's trembling.{{/GM}}

It was our glove woman, Karen.
She pulled me out of the wreck. Wrenched four tourniquets on me. Shot me up with drugs. Stuffed me in a security car she'd shot up.
Karen jacked me in. I couldn't even hold my head up. I thought my spine was shattered.

Once I was rigged in, though, the pain in my meat didn't matter. I drove us out of there. I stayed conscious just long enough to get us to a friendly clinic. By the time I got us there, Karen was going down with brain swelling.
{{GM}}Ambrose's eyes seem to clear, as if he's returning from far away.{{/GM}}

We got barn-stomped right proper. Slaughtered.
They crushed the command van with a front-end loader and left me for dead.

Everybody but me and Karen got wiped out.
Who ambushed you?
How did Karen escape?
You're wrecked, Ambrose. How did you survive so much trauma?
{{CC}}Drone Control: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Easy){{/CC}} You were the team rigger... How did a construction vehicle blindside you?
They hit you with a construction vehicle?
Let's finish this up... what happened afterwards?
I still don't know.

Best I can figure out, it was some sort of counterintrusion team. Maybe the whole run was a setup.
Karen was carrying the first haul out, when the assault team hit us.

She jumped into a koi pond, and lay on the bottom for about five minutes doing her woo-woo qi-centering thing.
They dropped a flash-bang grenade into the pond, to clear it.

That messed her up good. Burst her eardrums, gave her a concussion, ruptured the blood vessels in her eyes, nose, mouth... knocked the air out of her lungs.
She stayed on the bottom for another *couple minutes.*
I once asked her what that was like. She just said, "Painful."

That was Karen. Stoic like a concrete block.
{{GM}}Ambrose taps the side of his head.{{/GM}}

Cowardice and job security.
I was always real scared of getting hurt.

I'd kludged up my tactical computer with some healware and my headware radio. As soon as my vitals went screwy, my trauma protocols kicked in, and my radio started broadcasting my heartbeat.
Karen couldn't drive. She homed in on my beacon, and cut me out of the wreck with our demo saw.
Then she shot me up with enough adrenaline, PMO4, and morphine to reanimate a corpse.

{{GM}}Ambrose shivers a little, at the memory.{{/GM}}

And she put *three* trauma patches on me in a row...
It *shredded* my renal system.

{{GM}}He taps his chair.{{/GM}}

That's why this little hot rod has an artificial liver and a dialysis machine in it.
{{GM}}Ambrose looks uncomfortable.{{/GM}}

Well... we thought it was a milk run. I, uh... our overwatch wasn't what it could be.
You weren't doing your job, were you?
I follow you. Let's move along.
It happens.
{{GM}}Ambrose is silent for several seconds.{{/GM}}

I'm not proud of all my choices. I was a different man, back then.
{{GM}}A nearby robot arm equipped for heavy mechanical work emphatically snaps its vise-like claw.{{/GM}}

That thing crushed the van like a beer can.
Yeah, let's.
Yeah... it happens.
Yeah. It shoved the van right into a plascrete wall.

{{GM}}A nearby robot arm equipped for heavy mechanical work emphatically snaps its vise-like claw.{{/GM}}

Crushed it like a beer can.
I learned something from that, tell you what: how to *seriously* slot someone's day.

{{GM}}Ambrose gestures with his chin towards the clinic's false ceiling.{{/GM}}
I've got an articulated backhoe boom up there, with a demolition claw.

Hell with guns... anyone ever fucks with Chrome Alley, they'll learn what "high-powered hydraulics" really means.
Afterwards... things were real hard for awhile.

{{GM}}Ambrose seems to take stock of himself. He breathes heavily. Tension drains from his body, and he slowly relaxes.{{/GM}}

Here I am, though: Ripshot-no-more.
By the way... Ripshot is dead. Let's keep it that way. Please don't say that name to anyone, okay?

Karen was an *artist* at faking deaths, and she made sure we both vanished.
{{GM}}Ambrose shakes himself, and rubs his eye anxiously.{{/GM}}

Listen, $(L.name)... this is a stressful subject for me. We can talk more about the past another day.

For now, I'm spent.
Anyway, uh... that's how it all went down.
{{GM}}Ambrose busts out laughing.{{/GM}}

Oh man, $(L.name)... you can really shake hot sauce in the eyes of a heavy moment. I like that about you... the world needs more of that.

Soon your pain will end! Where was I? Oh yeah...
{{GM}}Ambrose wrinkles his face into a half snarl.{{/GM}}

Hey, shithead... I don't have a *fucking job* for you. You're the one who's asking about my life. It doesn't matter to me.
I'm just minding my own business here, chopping people's limbs off, okay?

Do you want the short story, or the long story, or are we done?
Hey, I appreciate your asking, $(L.name). I don't need anything... just BS'ing, since you asked.

Don't let me hold you back from paying work. I don't want to take up your time.
Fine by me. It's kinda personal, anyway. We can just leave the past in the past.

{{GM}}Ambrose gives a contented sigh, and looks around the clinic.{{/GM}}

Today is inventory day. I love inventory day!
Yeah, it is. Look, I was a real asshole in those days. I'm not proud of the jobs we did.
Okay then.

{{GM}}He smiles cheerfully, but looks slightly crestfallen.{{/GM}}

Well... what can I do for you, today?
Yeah? All right... you asked for it.
{{GM}}Ambrose's face becomes grim.{{/GM}}

You want to keep going with this, $(L.name)? All right...
After that ambush, things were desperate for a long time.

We had to borrow a lot of money. Karen had blown ears and a brain injury. I was a chunk of raw meat.
I was so bad I was almost euthanized.

Shit, I *wanted* to be put down.
Then... we turned the tide.
How did you turn the tide? Land the plane, Ambrose. I'm in a hurry.
Before you continue... why didn't they euthanize you?
Hold on... where is Karen now?
What did Karen do?
Wait, how did you pay all that money back?
Continue with your story. I'm listening.
I've satisfied my curiosity. You can continue now.
Our haul had a really high-grade medical program in it, and I figured out a wild kludge to run it on my cyber. We borrowed a bunch of money from Kindly and the Ka Fai tribe to set up Chrome Alley.

The rest is history. I thought we'd make a killing.
Because of Karen. She raised holy hell about it.
She was Trans-Catholic, and they're dead set against suicide. To them, it's the *worst* sin.

See, they think we're all incarnate to do our life's karmic work. No matter how shitty that work is, all other beings in the universe rely upon us to finish it - so we *must* see our lives through.
Personally... I don't buy it.

I just can't believe the universe is that cruel.
{{GM}}Ambrose shakes his head in exasperation.{{/GM}}

Karen was a walking contradiction. She had high aspirations, but she was terrible at all that "Thou shalt not kill or steal or throw people off subway platforms" stuff.
{{GM}}Ambrose rolls his eyes and gives a strained grin.{{/GM}}

She was like "Ambrose, if you smoke yourself, I will hunt you down in your next life and gut you."
I felt I owed it to her to live. That was the first time I ever felt like I owed anything to *anyone.*

{{GM}}His face clouds with anger and hurt.{{/GM}}

And then, what she did to me...

Un-fucking-believable.
That's a raw nerve, $(L.name).

{{GM}}Ambrose's brows draw low. He glances with intense anger towards the operating table, for a moment.{{/GM}}

Karen betrayed me. I don't want to talk about it.
I'm getting to that... short answer is: I'm still paying it back, but I'm gaining ground.

Tell you what, though - it's not the money that's hard, it's the favors.
I owe Kindly so many favors, I'll probably *never* pay them all off.

This clinic lets me do a lot of things I like, but I also have to do some things I don't like at all.
Don't ask about that. I can't tell you.
Karen still had her haul bag, from the job. It was mostly full of incomplete research data... useless.

However, it also had this crazy score: a draft medico-surgical knowsoft/skillwire program.
Well, at first we thought it was a crazy score... then we realized it was a paperweight.
This wasn't some "Doc-In-A-Box"... it was sigma-grade. Really high-end. It was supposed to run through an expert robotics system, not a person.

It was also unsellable: very rare, *very* traceable.
But then...

{{GM}}He breaks into a secretive, proud smile.{{/GM}}

I figured out how to run it through my cyber.
Interesting. Continue.
Huh.
How'd you do that?
{{CC}}Decking: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Medium){{/CC}} How can you run a sigma-grade skillsoft? Cortex bridges can't handle those reactive exchange rates.
{{CC}}Drone Control: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Medium){{/CC}} How the *hell* can you do that? Only a rig can handle sigma bandwidth, but you can't rig knowledge architectures.
I said "Karen, this is our golden ticket. We're gonna make a killing."

We borrowed more money, and got Kindly and the Ka Fai tribe to sponsor us. Set up Chrome Alley. The rest is history.
{{GM}}He looks proudly around at the medical clinic-cum-machine shop.{{/GM}}

Maybe it's not a killing, but it's turned out to be a pretty good life.
Do you worry about the program's owners coming after you?
You absconded with a high-grade program... the corp that you hit may not forget that.
You ever think about going back for revenge?
Hey, I worry about a lot of people coming after me.

Nobody ever really gets out of the shadows... but my trail is cold. I've had this thing for five years now. Ripshot is dead. Ten-Armed Ambrose lives here now.
Nah. I left that world behind.

I'm dead to running, and running is dead to me.
It's, uh... hard to explain if you're not a tech head. You wouldn't understand.

{{GM}}He breaks into an involuntary chuckle.{{/GM}}

Okay, twist my arm! I'll tell you...
{{GM}}Ambrose smiles so delightedly that even his cybereye seems to twinkle. His voice is conspiratorial. He talks fast.{{/GM}}

I use three external servers to hold it, over at my workstation. I run hardlines from the servers through two jacks: one to my cortex, one to my tactical computer. My other two jacks, I specially installed: one plugs into my encephalon, which has been repurposed.
The fourth jack connects my headware to external memory in my wheelchair. My encephalon handles algorithmic load, while my tactical computer acts as an enteric processor, and titrates between my knowsoft, skillwire, brain, and the control rig.

The whole mashup takes five custom programs, all Whampoan built.
From there... smooth sailing!
{{GM}}Ambrose smiles beatifically.{{/GM}}

I'm not just Ambrose. I'm the chair, the servers, the machinery. I *am* Chrome Alley... and that's why my remaining essence is just a precious sliver.
Where was I? Oh yeah... so, I figured out how to run the program.
She betrayed me.

{{GM}}Ambrose folds his one arm tensely across this chest, and scowls.{{/GM}}

She left me here.
{{GM}}He nods towards a small framed picture over his impressive, home-built computer.{{/GM}}

That's Karen.
{{GM}}Inspect the picture.{{/GM}}
I trust you. Keep talking.
The picture is of a serious-looking Filipina woman in a black tank top. Her neck, shoulders, and arms are chiseled with lean muscle, and spotted with tattoos. She looks vaguely annoyed at the camera.

"Semper Fidelis" is visible in Gothic script, tattooed across her chest.
A Trans-Catholic rosary hangs on the picture: a crucifix, with a delicate Kali yantra overlying the center.

In the picture, the rosary is visible around the woman's neck.
Karen quit shadowrunning, too.

Supposedly, she made a full recovery. She started delivering for smugglers. She was my main conduit for drugs and cyber.

{{GM}}Ambrose shakes his head, gently.{{/GM}}
She just stopped caring about anything.

Maybe it was the brain injury, but I don't think so. I think everything she'd done started catching up with her.
I could see it in her eyes.
What happened, Ambrose? In simple terms.
Take your time... I'm listening.
Some people just can't take it.
Sounds like post-traumatic stress.
She cut her own throat. Right over there, on the operating table.
{{GM}}Ambrose rubs his mouth with the remainder of his hand. He pauses.{{/GM}}

She couldn't sleep. She wouldn't take meds for it.
I think she didn't want to get better.
One day, she was here. We were behind the curtain. I went out front, to talk to someone.

{{GM}}Ambrose presses one of his remaining fingers into the side of his neck.{{/GM}}

She took her butterfly knife, and set the point right here.
She pushed the blade right through, and out along her trachea. Sliced through everything outside of that. Severed her own carotid artery.

Just like she was removing a sentry.
That was it. Don--
{{GM}}Ambrose stops. He holds his hand over this mouth, for a long moment. When he continues, his voice is thick.{{/GM}}

She did it right there, on the operating table. There wasn't even a thump.
That was Karen. Efficient. Ruthless. Considerate, in a weird way. Couldn't ever live by her own moral commandments.

Couldn't ever ask for what she needed.
{{GM}}Ambrose crosses himself.{{/GM}}

Requiescat cum deis, Karen Santos... aum Kali, mater magna, aum Jesu Christe, swami noster.

{{GM}}He gives you a sidelong glance.{{/GM}}

I'm not Trans-Catholic. Hell, I'm not into religion at all... but I try to honor her in that way.
I'm sorry, Ambrose.
I know what it's like to lose comrades.
Seems kinda ironic that she killed herself, since she convinced you to stay.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Academic{{/CC}} {{GM}}Complete the prayer for the dead and dying.{{/GM}}
It's okay, $(L.name). She, uh... she made her peace. I guess.
I know you do, $(L.name). I know you do.
Yeah, well... she wasn't exactly "diligently practicing."
{{GM}}Ambrose looks silently at Karen's picture. Eventually, he turns back to you.{{/GM}}

Ripshot's dead. My old 'hood in Chicago is in the Containment Zone. And Karen... well, she was my best friend. Ever.

I'm the last man standing.
So here I am.

I think I survived for a reason: so I could make other people's lives better. That's what I'm trying to do.
Life is what we make it, right?
Yeah, Ambrose. Life is what we make it.
Hell, I don't know. Shit just happens.
I just do my job, and have fun where I can.
I feel you, Ambrose. Here I am in Hong Kong, doing what I can.
Here... you want a drink? We should have a drink.

{{GM}}A robotic arm flings open a cabinet, clatters inside it, and swings across the room clutching a sapphire-blue bottle.{{/GM}}

This is lambanog... it's a Filipino coconut vodka. Have a shot with me?
Sure, I'll have one.
No thanks.
The robotic arm pours two shots. It swings one over to you.

Ambrose gingerly takes the other in his ruined hand, and holds it up.
To fallen friends.
To fallen friends. {{GM}}Drink.{{/GM}}
And foes. {{GM}}Drink.{{/GM}}
Cheers. {{GM}}Drink.{{/GM}}
And to clear lanes of fire. {{GM}}Drink.{{/GM}}
May they rest in peace. {{GM}}Drink.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Drink in silence.{{/GM}}
You swallow the shots together. The strong, raisin-flavored liquor burns going down.
Suit yourself.

{{GM}}Ambrose pours himself a shot, and takes it in his ruined hand. He raises it towards the picture of Karen.{{/GM}}

To fallen friends.

{{GM}}He downs the shot.{{/GM}}
Ambrose looks around in silence, then his gaze settles on you, lonely.
I used to be a real piece of work, $(L.name). When I got busted up, for the first time in my life I had to rely on other people. Broke, hunted, and close to death. Not so different from how you showed up... except for the death part.

Someone here owed Karen a favor. The people of Heoi took care of us.
Now, I think, if I did so much harm in my past life, how much healing can I do in this one?
{{GM}}Ambrose sighs, and clutches his shot glass against his chest - like a religious talisman. He looks thoughtfully at you.{{/GM}}

That's more than I've told anyone in a long time. It does the heart good, $(L.name). Thanks.
Well... a roctor's life is busy. Better wrap this up.
Agreed.
{{GM}}Shrug.{{/GM}} Whatever. Doesn't mean much to me.
Thanks, Ambrose. It was a privilege to listen.
You still angry at Karen?
Well... back to business, then.
{{GM}}Ambrose chuckles, and shakes his head.{{/GM}}

You're an ass-head, but I sure do like you.
I'm glad to know you, $(L.name).
I'll always be angry at Karen. She abandoned me.

{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

So what? She was my friend. I can be angry at her if I want to.
Maybe so, $(L.name)... but I like to think there's a little more meaning to it.
That's about all a $(L.guy) can do.
Seems like you're doing okay... despite all the wild, crazy-ass shit it sounds like you've gotten yourself into.

{{GM}}He winks.{{/GM}}

But I didn't hear nuthin'. Far as I know, you sweep floors and wash dishes.
Ambrose silently bows his head as you recite a string of words in Sanskrit and Latin, invoking Karen to rejoin the Trans-Catholic concept of universal oneness: the Atma Brahma of the Holy Ghost.
{{GM}}Ambrose joins you in the final recitation.{{/GM}}

Shanti, shanti, shanti... Amen.
{{GM}}His eyes are shining when he looks back at you.{{/GM}}

Thanks, $(L.name). I never learned it in full, even though she said it over me every day, when I was all messed up.
Yeah? They'll say the same thing about you.

{{GM}}Ambrose's voice drops to an angry murmur.{{/GM}}

I think I'm done talking about Karen.
Fine by me.
Don't leave me hanging... come on, in one sentence: what happened?
No offense meant. Please, continue.
Good.

Story time's over.
{{GM}}Ambrose gives you a hard look.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Ambrose gives you a hard look.{{/GM}}

Fine... you asked, you get the gory details.
You're right... but hey, if I've got PTSD, a lot of runners have some PTSD. All the gunfights... survivor guilt...

{{GM}}He looks down at the cement floor, deep in thought.{{/GM}}

It's rough, but at the end of day, it's a treatable neurological adaptation to extreme stress.
Karen, though... she had all that to carry, and then some.
No doubt. So what happened? In simple terms.
I believe you... go on.
{{GM}}Ambrose stops what he's doing. He regards you silently. His living eye glitters with intelligence.{{/GM}}

I'm Ambrose Rokatansky. I'm the doctor around here.
Anyone else I might have been is dead and gone.
There's no such person as Ambrose Rokatansky, is there?
Why did you leave Chicago... really?
What really happened to your team?
In the Mustang photo... is that your son?
You know anything about an "Archaeopteryx," on the BBS?
Very well, Ambrose. Keep your mysteries.
Thanks, Ambrose. Just had to ask.
I know what your game is. Remember that.
Never mind, then.
Maybe I wasn't born with that name.
Maybe Icebreaker's just a notorious and secretive Kong runner who vanished with his team. Maybe I never worked for him. Maybe I did.
I'll tell you what's real: this clinic is real. What I do here is real.

This place is as real as it comes.
Karen was real. She was my friend. And the heart in my story - that's real, too.
As far as the rest... well, some stories are too dangerous to tell.
Maybe it wasn't Chicago I left. There's been a lot of mixing in the UCAS Midwest. It's a big territory that my accent could be from.
Maybe I crossed someone... the Mafia. Ares. The Russians. Stuffer Shack.

{{GM}}Ambrose winks - but with his cybereye. His living eye keeps watching you, relentless.{{/GM}}

Maybe saying that my old 'hood is inside the Chicago Containment Zone is just a way to cover my tracks.
*Go Bears.*
Things went bad. We got ambushed.

{{GM}}Ambrose squints appraisingly at you. His expression is unreadable: a perfect poker face.{{/GM}}

I must not have been doing a good job of overwatch.
That ambush killed everyone else. Eventually, it even killed Karen.

{{GM}}With his three fingers, Ambrose points to the place tubes emerge from his side.{{/GM}}

My *liver* and *kidneys* are machines in my wheelchair. I've lost about half my body. I'm in chronic pain. And every night, it's the same thing: nightmares. They never end.
If I had any part in the end of the crew... well, I've paid with almost everything. It's still less than oth--

{{GM}}Ambrose is suddenly overcome with emotion. It seems to catch him by surprise. His poker face cracks in an agonal grimace, and tears well up in his eyes.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}After an instant, he masters himself - and his stony face returns.{{/GM}}
What matters now is making something productive of my life.
I mean it when I say I'm just about the luckiest guy in the world.
You're admitting that your negligence killed your team?
Are you saying you had a part in the ambush?
You're right. You are just about the luckiest guy in the world.
Stow the doublespeak. What happened to your team?
All messed up, in hiding, and alone... you don't sound lucky to me.
I'm not admitting anything.

It's all ancient history, $(L.name).
I'm not saying anything at all.

It's all ancient history, $(L.name).
I'm glad you understand.
I don't know. I never saw any of them, ever again.

It's all ancient history now.
{{GM}}Ambrose's voice is flinty. His eyes are clear and unwavering.{{/GM}}

I'm not alone.
{{GM}}Ambrose gets very still. The robotic arms tinkering around you suddenly stop - and seem to sag. The only sound is the rumble and hum of the electro-furnaces.

When he speaks, his voice is slow.{{/GM}}

That's me when I was younger. Look at the time stamp. It was taken in 2034.
I don't have a son. I don't have *anyone* back in the UCAS.

{{GM}}He slowly shakes his head.{{/GM}}

I never did.
I've got nothing else to say about it.

I hope you can understand that.
Yes... I understand.
Very well.
Huh, because I could've sworn--
Stow the bullshi--
Thanks, $(L.name).

{{GM}}There's a hint of real gratitude in his voice.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}He shakes his head sadly.{{/GM}}

Damn, that was a good car.
{{GM}}Ambrose growls.{{/GM}}

I've got nothing to say about it.
What, like the bird?
Yeah, a little bird whom I watched divert attention from a *very good* rigger doc, and deftly fish for information on one of Icebreaker's old associates.
Don't play dumb, Ambrose. I know how smart you are.
Dinosaur, dude. Archaeopteryx was a dinosaur.
Never mind.
What? What are you implying? That... wait, that it's *me?*

{{GM}}Ambrose breaks into a smile that is sunny, though possibly a bit forced.{{/GM}}

Hey, I'm flattered. I really am, but I stay away from the BBS. That world's behind me.
Although I suppose if I ever found someone with whom I had unfinished business...

{{GM}}Ambrose's voice drops several octaves, for just a moment.{{/GM}}

... I'd be a *real* angry cuss.
No shit! Kinda like me.

{{GM}}Ambrose says it without a hint of irony or recognition.{{/GM}}

I learn something new every day...
No, I don't know anything about that. I stay away from shadow boards.

{{GM}}He grins with steady determination.{{/GM}}

I'm not part of that world anymore.
Okay, then.

{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

I stay clear of the BBS. That's kid stuff.
{{GM}}Ambrose gives a very slight nod.{{/GM}}

I will.
Welcome to the shadows, $(L.name).

{{GM}}He smiles knowingly at you - but not in an unkindly way.{{/GM}}

Enjoy your stay.
All right, then.
{{GM}}Ambrose's brows rise in surprise for a moment.{{/GM}}

Really? Well, okay...
A waldo arm opens a cabinet, and crackles through packaging. In a moment, it swings over to you, holding a plastic cylinder about the size of a roll of breath mints.
Here you go.

{{GM}}The arm gently sets the cylinder in your hand.{{/GM}}
What are these?
Why are you giving Reliable Matthew BTLs?
{{GM}}Inspect the cylinder.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Pocket the cylinder.{{/GM}}
Sorry, $(L.name)... I can't discuss a patient's treatment without permission. Confidentiality and Hippocratic oath and all that stuff.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Academic{{/CC}} That's not what the Hippocratic oath is about.
Ambrose, you're not even a real doctor!
Very well, I understand.
That's bullshit and you know it.
Yeah, whatever... it's a crock of shit anyway, right? Point is, I can't talk about a patient's treatment.
Hey, I'm a real doctor to the people here!

Look, $(L.name), how would you feel if I told people about the injuries you and your team come in with, huh? I gotta respect people's privacy.
Good. I gotta respect people's privacy. That's nonnegotiable.
Hey, I don't tell random people about the injuries your team comes in with - and I sure as hell won't tell *you* about other patients.

That's nonnegotiable.
Like I said: *patient confidentiality.* I can't talk about it.

This is medicine. If you want to know more, ask Matty.
The cylinder is lettered with holographic hanzi: "Cool Blue Jazz - nonsmoker version." It has a stylized illustration of a laid-back lounge lizard of a man, wearing a zoot suit and smoking a cigarillo.

Through the semitransparent plastic, you can see a stack of what look like tiny pills or chips.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Socialite{{/CC}} {{GM}}Search your memory for what this might be.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Etiquette: Gang{{/CC}} {{GM}}Search your memory for what this might be.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Biotech: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Easy){{/CC}} {{GM}}Medically evaluate the cylinder.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Return you attention to Ambrose.{{/GM}}
This looks like a tube of "slow-burn" Better-Than-Life chips.

These disposable chips create a synthetic experience. Unlike normal BTLs, which burn hot and fast, the sensory and emotional tracks on slow-burn chips are adjusted to be only slightly above legal limits, and they last all day long.
They give a gentle, subdued high. It's like you're someone else, but still living your life.
The symbols printed on it suggest the cylinder contains Better-Than-Life chips. These disposable chips create a synthetic experience.

Specifically, these are "slow-burn" BTLs, which are less intense than usual BTLs but last for a long time: usually eight to twelve hours.
Slow-burn BTLs don't overwhelm someone's connection to the real world, they just skew it, creating a false experience of the real world.
Thanks, $(L.name). He'll be happy to get those.
{{GM}}Ambrose sighs. His expression suggests that he's had this conversation before.{{/GM}}

What about Matty?
Why are you giving him BTLs?
What's his deal?
Sounds like he's in a bad situation with his suppliers.
I've heard enough. Let's drop this subject.
Can I have some BTLs? They look pretty awesome.
Why am I giving him BTLs?

{{GM}}Ambrose bristles.{{/GM}}

So he doesn't have to get cheap shit that's going to fry his brain from a street dealer, that's why!
Those cool blues are *pharmaceutical grade.* Their tracks run clean and clear as live opera.

{{GM}}Ambrose catches himself.{{/GM}}

Patient confidentiality... I've already said too much. He's medicated. God knows he deserves it.
Fair enough. Sounds like he has a medical need.
You shouldn't give him BTLs.
I've got no comment on this situation.
That he does.
Well, look who's all high and mighty on their moral horse!

{{GM}}Ambrose snorts in disgust, and continues mockingly.{{/GM}}

Shooting things. Blowing people up. Lecturing on the dangers of BTL use.
Don't even, $(L.name). Don't *even.*
Good, 'cause I've got nothing else to say on it.
He's a shy, sensitive guy who's had a rough life. Now he's got a shit job, selling people the thing they love to hate!
{{GM}}Ambrose shakes his head in exasperation.{{/GM}}

That poor guy... he wouldn't harm a fly, but if there's someone who should have "failure to adapt" tattooed on their forehead, it's Matty.
Matty is *always* in a bad situation with his suppliers.
He's a terrible businessman, and used drone selling... that's a brutal business. You always have a lot more metal on the lot than you can afford, and the commissions are a pittance.
Matty doesn't want help to do something else, though. He wants to hole up with his little drone buddies, and be left alone.

{{GM}}Ambrose thrusts his chin out defiantly.{{/GM}}

There ain't nothing wrong with that.
Sorry, $(L.name). I'm not a drug dealer. I only handle 'em for people who need them for medical reasons.

Well, psychological. Medical. Because they already have the habit. Whatever.
I commend you thinking about him, $(L.name). I really do. A lot of cases like Matty come through my door, and I feel for them.

If I didn't have this gig, I might be right there with him. There but by the grace of chrome and booty go I.
{{GM}}Ambrose makes a mock toast with his arm.{{/GM}}

To Reliable Matthew... hold true, little buddy. There's a rest for you at the end of the tunnel.
To Reliable Matthew.
Let's just get back to business.
Whatever. That guy's fried.
What rest is that, Ambrose?
May he hang in there.

All right, let's talk about something else. This is just depressing.
Let's. This whole topic is just depressing.
Yeah, they'll say the same thing about you when you hit hard times.

Let's talk about something else. This is just depressing.
Same rest we all get: death and the scrap yard.

Let's talk about something else. This is just depressing.
{{GM}}Ambrose taps his temple with one of his only remaining fingers.{{/GM}}

Because I'm already chromed to the gills.
I don't look it, but I've got a full suite: quad jacks, knowsoft, radio, skillwire, tactical computer, whole buncha riggerware...

{{GM}}He lifts his dirty t-shirt, revealing a pair of tubes emerging from his side, running down into the wheelchair.{{/GM}}

Check it out - I've got an artificial liver in my chair!
I want to keep my last essence.

I've come to like my humanity. I don't want to turn into one of the walking dead.
The "walking dead"?
Good call, then. That's a lot of chrome.
Then saving your last essence makes sense.
Humanity is overrated.
Oh come on, you know the names, right? The Walking Dead. Toasters. Chrome-Outs.

I don't want to be one of those lug wrenches who cyber themselves to within an inch of their lives, and stop feeling normal emotions.
I know what you mean. I've had friends like that.
I'm familiar.
There are worse things than feeling nothing.
No, I haven't. Interesting.
Then you get it: I don't want to be like that, and I'm real close to the line.
Truth.

I'm close to the line, though. I don't want to feel nothing. At least, not yet.
Seriously? You must live under a rock. Too much cyber bleaches your soul. I don't want that to happen to me.

{{GM}}Ambrose shakes his head sadly.{{/GM}}

It's a crying shame. There are such amazing things we could do with unlimited augmentation.

Yes, it is. I didn't start my career as a bone saw.
{{GM}}Ambrose scratches himself ostentatiously with a robotic arm.{{/GM}}

Listen, I like talking about my chrome more than the next guy, but not right now. Besides, it's kinda a personal subject.

You looking for something, today?

Glad you think so.
If that's what you believe... well, I got no judgment on that. Different strokes for different folks!
Sure, what do you want to know?

{{GM}}Ambrose taps his wheelchair with his three fingers, eagerly.{{/GM}}

It's fascinating stuff.
What exactly *is* essence?
Is there any way to restore lost essence?
Can I install cyberware below zero essence?
Why don't you get some cloned limbs? Those don't take essence.
How is essence measured?
Thanks for talking about essence, Ambrose.
{{GM}}Ambrose gives an exaggerated shrug, pursing his lips.{{/GM}}

Wellll... I'm not sure. It's life force. *Sort of.* Essence is like the ability of the spirit to recognize and stay connected to the body.
Augmenting the body reduces our essence. When our essence is exhausted, the spirit quits the body - and we die.
There's this popular idea that essence is disrupted when we attach nonhuman things to our nervous system, but that's only kinda true.

If you install a datajack or a bionic arm, that's definitely a lot of neural interface.
However, if you get bone lacing, or dermal armor, those don't have much neural interface, right? But they're still murder on your essence. The body still recognizes them as alien, and invasive.

So... there's something more to essence than just a neural interface.
There are all sorts of weird theories about essence as biospiritual integrity and stuff. I've tried to read some of the medical papers, but it was like trying to drive a go-kart through a blackberry thicket.

Hell if I know what it really is.
Nope, but there's a ton of research going into it. Like, hundreds of millions of nuyen a year.

The person who figures out how to restore essence is going to change the world.
Think about it: we might be able to achieve full biological regeneration, or even resurrection of the dead.

I wouldn't need replacements parts, I might just be able to *grow* my own body back! That'd be something else.
No, no, no. You drop below zero essence, you DIE.

{{GM}}Ambrose shakes his head emphatically, face grim.{{/GM}}

Every hardcore street soldier asks that. Trust me, there's no way to do it.
However, it seems like people *can* cultivate the ability to carry a little more cyberware. Theorists think it's really just making the essence you've got go further.
{{GM}}Ambrose taps his three fingers on his paunch, thoughtfully.{{/GM}}

As long as we're bullshitting, though...

There are a lot of rumors about "cyberzombies": corporate experiments in deep augmentation, going into negative essence.
Hell, there's even some convincing evidence posted by runners that these experiments exist... but no credible medical entity has ever recognized proof.

If that tech is out there, it's *light-years* beyond anything you'll find on the streets. Do I think the corps are doing the research? Of course! Why not? But does it work? I've got no idea.
I've got "the aches." ACHiS: Acquired Cybergenetic Hyperimmunity Syndrome.

My body rejects all sorts of mods and biotech. My body now thinks the chrome is legitimate, and everything else is an intruder.
I've got a list of over *seventy* things I'm now allergic to, including bio-implants. So, no cloned limbs for me. Kind of a bummer.

No horseradish either. No carrots. No barbiturates. Man, I used to *love* horseradish.
Oh, there are a zillion different systems for measuring essence... but everyone on the street just uses the "Rule of Six."

The rule says the body has an index of six essence, and all augmentations can be loosely scored on how much they reduce that number.
It was originally the Medvev-Durac Bioholism Index, after two early researchers. They figured that the body had six parts, and they observed that replacing a limb with an early cyberprosthetic took around one sixth of a person's capacity.

They developed a theory that cybercapacity was based on body regions. Each region could have up to 100% cyber, and the whole body added up to 600%, which written as "6."
Turns out the whole theory was flawed. And body region doesn't matter much for essence cost... but the Rule of Six was easy and intuitive.

It stuck. So we still use it.
No problem. It's fun to talk about.
{{GM}}Ambrose gives you a crooked smile, eyes glittering.{{/GM}}

Essence is cool stuff... cool stuff. At the end of the day, I don't know *what* is.

I just know I'm almost out of it.
Cheers, $(L.name). Talk to you later.
Whip
A basic whip attack.
Welcome to the Wuxing service terminal.

Please identify yourself to gain access to the main menu.
{{CC}}Decking: 1{{/CC}} {{GM}}Bypass login and reroute to main menu.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Security Override{{/CC}} {{GM}}Access main menu.{{/GM}}
REDIRECTING...

Welcome to the Wuxing service terminal's main menu. Please make a selection.
Fire Safety
Security
Power
Yokogawa Fire Interdiction System 2130

Please make a selection.
{{GM}}Test the basement floor's fire alarm.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Back.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Exit.{{/GM}}
Test: Fire alarm
Region: Basement
Time: Current time

ACTIVATING...
[ACCESS DENIED]

Higher clearance required to access these functions.
Wuxing Power Subsystems

Please make a selection.
System Check
Power Levels: Normal
Lighting Power: Active
Alarm Power: Active
Fire Protection Power: Active
{{GM}}A stern-looking security officer, flanked by two burly guards, greets you. His listless words roll into each other.{{/GM}}

Good evening. We apologize for the inconvenience, but you must check in at a Wuxing terminal before you can use the elevators.
FN HAR
Rifle: An assault rifle used by CorpSec units. More accurate and pierces up to 2 Armor.
As you reach for the elevator's control panel, you can feel the electric sensation of the qi dancing across your skin. This feeling is noticeable to those not even magically attuned - the disruption here is that strong.
Behind you, the trapped and turbulent qi swirls inside the iconic Skytower Atrium. You can actually see the air around the atrium warp and ebb as the qi surges and breaks against the obstacles around it, looking for a way to move, to flow, and finding none.
The job is done. You have desecrated the Wuxing Lotus, and in doing so, blemished the prideful face of a megacorp.
Not bad for a night's work.

{{GM}}He turns his back on the temple.{{/GM}}

I think we did the job up to the client's standards, huh?
I've seen a lot of things, but I've never *SEEN* or *FELT* qi this way. I imagine this is what it must feel like for an attuned person in the Walled City.

{{GM}}She shudders.{{/GM}}

Must be unbearable.
We need to leave. Rat is pulling as hard as I've ever felt her. This is not a good place to be.
The task is done. We've unsettled this space. The resulting tempest is unexpected, but interesting nonetheless.
Interesting to be sure. The magical landscape here is violent and unpredictable.

{{GM}}He rests a hand on the top of Koschei's chassis.{{/GM}}

The unreliable nature of such magic is troubling. Thankfully, we needn't rely on such things to thrive.
The elevator arrives at the temple. Time to duck out the back door before security can respond further.
As you reach for the elevator's control panel, you can feel the electric feeling of the qi dancing across your skin. There is a pressure on your ears, and a tingling at the back of your neck.
Even the heartiest person would find no equilibrium here. The sense of vertigo is overwhelming.
The swelling and undulating energy is everywhere. The unease you feel is total. Every moment spent here is another moment of induced panic.
Standing on shifting ground would yield better results than keeping your footing on the concrete here. You feel the air around you spinning and pushing you with every heartbeat.
Behind you, the trapped and turbulent qi swirls inside the iconic Skytower Atrium. You can actually see the air around the atrium warp and ebb as the qi surges and breaks against the barrier around it, looking for a way to move, to flow, and finding none.
Rat is tugging at me - we need to get out of here. Like, seriously. I'm feeling sick to my stomach.
Interesting, to be sure. The magical landscape here is violent and unpredictable.

{{GM}}He rests a hand on the top of Koschei's chassis.{{/GM}}

The unreliable nature of such magic is troubling. Thankfully, we needn't rely on such things to thrive.
The elevator arrives at the temple. Time to leave this infernal place. Wuxing is going to be picking up the broken pieces here for months to come.
Powerbolt III
The most basic spell every mage knows and always has ready.
Uzi III (Smartlink)
SMG: The most popular submachine gun in the world, with a built-in Smartlink system.
Kevlar-Lined Trench Coat
Pure Body protection with a touch of class. Grants +1 Body.
This fridge is well-stocked. There's enough food in here to feed a big party.
Rows and rows of finely tailored suits, custom shoes, and various accessories fill this room.
Today's Special: Buddha's Delight.
Tempest
EXIT, STAGE LEFT
You arrive at the eponymously named Repulse Bay - a gleaming hotel and apartment building on the shores of Repulse Bay, Hong Kong Island. Rolling stormclouds choke the sky, lending the structure a sinister appearance. As you push through the doors and into the building, a sudden break in the clouds reveals a sun that's gone red as blood.

You make your way into a ground floor elevator. The attendant pays you no mind. As the car begins to climb, you hear the sounds of merriment drawing closer.

As the doors slide open, you find Neville Ma's party in full swing.
$(scene.global_KuFengName)
Vampiric Pawn
Security Guard
Hotel Guest
Producer
Neville Ma
Penelope Wong
Cook
Waiter
Hotel Datacore
Neville Ma's computer.
InvisiCam1
Find Paydata
You found paydata on The Repulse Bay's expansion plans. Local construction companies will pay good nuyen for this.
Find Incriminating Evidence on Neville Ma
Find any evidence you can that Dr. Shenyang could use to blackmail Neville Ma.
Go to Ma's Party
You might be able to get some valuable information if you can get into Neville Ma's party.
Gain Access to Ma's Apartment
Find a way into Neville Ma's penthouse suite.
Defeat Ku Feng
Defeat the vampire Ku Feng and her minions.
Find Out More About Ma's Friend
You should find out more about Neville Ma's new friend that he met in Guangzhou. She could be his secret partner, or someone else bankrolling his recovery.
Return to Dr. Shenyang
Report your findings to Dr. Shenyang and Kindly Cheng.
You Died
Find an RFID Key for Ma's Security Door
Ma has installed a heavy security door in his apartment. You'll need to find an RFID key to get through it.
Open Ma's Security Door
Porter Lam, at your service. The Elders told me that you'd be coming.

They tell you about what happened to Tong?
Just the basics.
He got killed earlier tonight, yeah?
Not really, no.
Well, nothing's basic about this. I've seen people shot, stabbed, beaten to death. Hell, I've even seen a corpse that was so dry and dessicated I coulda sworn a vampire got to it.

None of that's got anything on this. Brace yourself and go on in.
Killed. Hah. That's rich.

Killed is when a BTL-head sticks a knife in you for your credstick, or the cops put two in your chest for not kissing up hard enough. This is something else entirely. This isn't killed, this is slaughtered like a fatted calf.

Watch yourself. It's a goddamn mess in there.
Frankly, I'm not surprised. I don't even know if words can do it justice.

You ever see what happens when a goat gets hit with a grenade?
Messy, I expect.
I... Does that happen a lot?
I was in vacation in Cambodia a couple of years back. They still have mines from damn near a hundred years ago out in the backwoods, right? Unstable as hell. Some of my friends out there get drunk and use hand grenades to set off clusters of 'em. Lob one out, take cover, watch two or three mines go up in smoke.

Pretty clever, actually. Using explosives to clear explosives, I mean.
Well, one day I was out with my friend Suon, and her brothers were working on clearing some mines. Narong lobs an airfoil grenade into the underbrush and a few seconds later this goat comes bouncing over. Looks at the bush and says "Baaaaa?"

{{GM}}Porter mimes an explosion with his hands.{{/GM}}

We had goat stew for dinner the next night. That poor damn goat.
What does this have to do with Elder Tong?
I'll put it this way: Elder Tong and that goat?

They're about the same consistency.
Hey there. Need something else?
What do you do around here, Porter?
It looks like somebody went through Tong's things. Has anyone else been inside?
What can you tell me about Elder Magpie?
Do you have a key to the storm drainage system?
See you later.
It's a catch all category, I guess. I work for Elder Ip. It's a bit like being a deputy - I make sure people don't break the rules. Protect people who need protecting. Mostly, I just do whatever Ip asks me to. It's a pretty quiet job most days.

Today's not one of those days.
I also handle a lot of maintenance. I don't actually do the repairs, but I've got most of the keys. It makes it easy to ensure only authorized people get into sensitive places.

Electricity goes down? I let in the electrician who fixes the wiring. Toilet's clogged? I let in the drone guy who opens it back up.
Not since I've been here, but before Ip found him?

Coulda been anybody, really. Ip had a key to his place, but the lock's total crap. Anybody half decent at cracking maglocks could have gotten inside. What's missing?
Some BTLs and hard drives.
Some credsticks. His safe's been cleaned out.
His BTLs, hard drives, and credsticks are all missing.
Huh. Well, a lot of people out here are fans of the sims he mixed. Anybody with a 'jack coulda had reason to steal that.

We're a pretty tech-savvy lot, to be honest. If the killer wasn't an animal, it could have been them, too.
Well... I'd have to say anybody out here is a prime suspect, then. Whampoa Garden isn't the Walled City, but we're still pretty poor. Nobody would let money like that lay around.

And if the killer wasn't some kind of animal, they'd fall into that category too.
Sounds like the killer looted his place, to me. All this talk of monsters... Yeah, sure, there are scary things that go bump in the night. But most of the scary bumps I hear are from handguns and gangers.
{{GM}}The Whampoan snorts, shrugging his shoulders.{{/GM}}

That she was a bitch? That I've never met anyone as deliberately contrary as her?

There's not much to say. Nobody wanted to hang out with Magpie. Even though she was the newest Elder, she acted high and mighty around everyone. She'd block deals and argue against Nakamura and Ng just because she could.
Why was she so contrary?
It was just her nature. She loved fights and gossip. Any chance to cut somebody else down, she'd take it.

I guess I always figured she had some deep-seated insecurities, and covered it up by attacking other people.
Sure. Why do you ask? Drop a gun down a grate or something?
Following up a lead on the killer.
In that case, take the damn key. You'll have to forgive me if I don't want to go down there with you.

{{GM}}Porter peels an antique yale-style key off of a key ring and hands it to you.{{/GM}}

Knock yourself out, $(l.man). There's an entrance up by the Jade Mountain restaurant. Can't miss it.
Knight Errant Soldier
Yes, sometimes scent is part of the disguise. You'll get used to it.
Doc Wagon Drone Beacon
Sets a doc wagon beacon on a dead drone
Kneecap
Koschei targets vital areas to impede resistance.
You emerge from Kowloon Walled City to bustling clusters of activity. Refugees huddling together staring back at their lost homes. Government troops deploying from armored personnel carriers. News vans setting up remote camera feeds while reporters scramble to find the right angle for their broadcasts.

The air is electric with the threat of potential violence as panicked peacekeepers eye the growing crowd of evacuating poor.
{{GM}}Gobbet's eyes dart furtively as she turtles her head between her shoulders.{{/GM}}

This place is hot. The cops are swarming the place and that APB is still out on us.
Just take it easy. Try and blend in to the crowd. I want to have a look around.
Let's head to the boat. Sneaky-like.
Yeah, it's quite a party.
Not the best time for sightseeing, $(l.name). The place is crawling with badges.

{{GM}}Is0bel lifts her nose towards a reporter interviewing someone from inside the Walled City.{{/GM}}

Looks like we get to see a show, though. That reporter already has his hooks in someone, hoping for a sound bite.
Sounds good. It's gonna take a year's worth of showers to wash that experience off of me.

{{GM}}Is0bel lifts her nose towards a reporter interviewing someone from inside the Walled City.{{/GM}}

Looks like we get to see a man on the street interview on our way. The press already have their hooks in someone, hoping for a sound bite.
Looks like the press joined the party.

{{GM}}Is0bel lifts her nose towards a reporter interviewing someone from inside the Walled City.{{/GM}}

Already have their hooks in someone, hoping for a sound bite.
{{GM}}The reporter wears a look of earnest concern like a coat of cheap deodorant.{{/GM}}

And is that when you started running?
Yeah. It was bad in there. Shooting, screaming...

I was terrified!
And what caused this, sir? Why are people flooding out of the Walled City injured and disoriented?
{{GM}}The man stares at the scene around him, bewildered.{{/GM}}

It's like everyone is saying.

Some sort of... chemical leak. A drug lab exploded or something. Caused mass hallucinations.
{{GM}}The reporter turns to the camera and pretends to check his notes.{{/GM}}

There you have it, Sunny.

Our third report of mass hallucinations and violence caused by an explosion in an illegal drug lab.

And while reports remain sketchy, it appears that street crime is again on the rise.
{{GM}}He half turns and sweeps his arm over the scene.{{/GM}}

As you can see, it's still turmoil and confusion here as police and Executive Council peacekeepers respond to the emergency situation, attempting to maintain order.

But in all this chaos, in the maze of poverty that *is* Kowloon Walled City, we may *never know* what really happened in there.

Back to you in the studio, Sunny.
The light on the news camera goes off and the reporter drops his facade. He ignores the bedraggled man beside him and begins packing up his equipment.
{{GM}}After a moment, he sees you looking at him and turns to you with a scowl.{{/GM}}

What are you looking at?
You know that guy was regurgitating a line of corporate bullshit, don't you?
Mass hallucinations? Do you believe that story?
There was no illegal drug spill.
{{GM}}He laughs sardonically and continues packing.{{/GM}}

Everyone's regurgitating a line of corpcrap, pal. They may not know it, but they are.

Everything you see, everything you've been taught, every official you "elect", all bought and paid for by the people pulling the strings.
No, I don't believe that story.

{{GM}}He laughs sardonically and continues packing.{{/GM}}

Am I wearing a t-shirt that says, "I'm a fool, feed me your line of corporate bullshit"? No. But in my experience, the rest of the world is.

Everything you see, everything you've been taught, every official you "elect", all bought and paid for by the people pulling the strings.
I'm shocked!

{{GM}}He laughs sardonically and continues packing.{{/GM}}

Of course there was no illegal drug spill. Of course it's a line of corpcrap.

Everything you see, everything you've been taught, every official you "elect", all bought and paid for by the people pulling the strings.
Yeah, well no one's telling *me* what to think.
{{GM}}No eye contact. He remains bent over his equipment case.{{/GM}}

Of course not, pal. *You're* different.
{{GM}}The reporter finishes packing. He stands up straight, brushing the wet grit of the street off his hands and his eyes narrow. He runs them over and your crew with a practiced eye.{{/GM}}

Looks like you just came from inside.

What did you really see in there?
A mess that Josephine Tsang never cleaned up.
A demon-goddess named Qian Ya. She says hi, by the way.
The results of corporate greed on the little people.
A machine that creates luck. The bad kind.
{{GM}}He chuckles.{{/GM}}

Why am I not surprised? No one even remembers that she built this hole in the *first* place. Not that it would matter. Jo Tsang holds this town by the balls.

It wouldn't surprise me if she was running some kind of test in the Walled City. It's like their little petri dish. They test food additives, body modifications, pharmaceuticals - whatever some junior executive can dream up.
Wouldn't surprise me if the whole thing blew up in her face because of low safety standards, either.
Tell her hi back.

{{GM}}He smirks.{{/GM}}

What, are you surprised I believe you? We live in the future - flying cars, dragons... why not a demon-goddess?

Hell, a corp probably summoned her for some kind of fear experiment or something. That kind of shit happens all the time - the Walled City's like their little petri dish. They *love* using 'em like lab rats.
You had to go into the Walled City to see that? It's 2056 - greed is the little engine that makes the world go 'round.

{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

And I'm sure this has something to do with some corp experimenting on the people in the Walled City. It's like their little petri dish. They *love* using them like lab rats in there.
A bad luck machine cause all this? Must be a helluva lot of bad luck.

{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

And I'm sure this machine has something to do with some corp experimenting on the people in the Walled City. It's like their little petri dish. They *love* using them like lab rats in there.
They test food additives, body modifications, pharmaceuticals - whatever some junior executive can dream up.

Nothing surprises me anymore.
Doesn't it bother you?
What about the truth?
We can change that.
{{GM}}He blinks at you.{{/GM}}

Why would it? That's just the way it works.

You think I give a shit about journalism? Do you think anyone does anymore?
Everyone on this island knows my news service is just a mouthpiece for the Executive Council.

They buy what we feed them because the world is changing and it's scary and they feel small and they need people to blame and authority figures to tell them what to think. My news network gives them that.
{{GM}}He points at the trivid screen mounted on the side of his news van.{{/GM}}

And there's a prime example of an authority figure. Jo Tsang, rising star on the Executive Council. Just *look* at her spinning this to her own ends, talking about the humanitarian relief effort she's mounting.

Y'know -
{{GM}}Your comm chirps. It's Kindly Cheng.{{/GM}}

Go ahead and take your comm. I'm gonna go before this scene turns into some kind of riot. It usually does.
This is $(s.name).
You're not gonna believe what I just went through.
Don't "Hello Auntie" me. I lost contact with the soldiers I sent into the Walled City with you and now these Tsang assholes and government troops are all over the place.

Get over here tell me what the hell happened.
Right away, Auntie.
I'll come by when I'm ready.
What about the cops? There's still an APB out on us.
No response. The line is already dead.
Some mysterious benefactor lifted the APB on you.

{{GM}}You can hear her suck on a little black cigar.{{/GM}}

We'll talk more when you get here.

{{GM}}The comm clicks off.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Is0bel tugs at your arm, her eyelids at half-mast.{{/GM}}

I want to sleep. For about a year.
I'm taking Raymond to the $(story.Global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName), $(l.firstname). I think he could use some sack time, too.

We'll see you there.
You better go talk to Auntie, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname).
I'm heading to the $(story.Global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName), $(l.firstname). I could use some sack time, too.

I'll see you there.
I lost contact with the soldiers I sent into the Walled City with you and now these Tsang assholes and government troops are all over the place.

Get over here tell me what the hell happened.
Tell me in person, $(l.name). I lost contact with the soldiers I sent into the Walled City with you and now these Tsang assholes and government troops are all over the place.

Get over here tell me what happened.
The truth isn't my business. Ad revenue is my business.

Do you have any idea how much competition there is for eyeballs these days?

News is nothing more than content, just like the new Mamie Canyon flesh BTL, Urban Brawl broadcast, or Maria Mercurial music trid.
{{GM}}He looks at you like you're from Mars.{{/GM}}

Good luck. You look like just the $(l.guy) to do it.
Aren't you a reporter? Shouldn't you be trying to *inform* people?
I could use your help.
Maybe I could make it worth your while to help.
You're in the 2050s, pal. Not the 1950s.

{{GM}}He picks up his gear and turns to go.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The reporter gives you a lopsided smile.{{/GM}}

To what? Spread the truth?
{{GM}}He winks at you.{{/GM}}

I think it's *more* worth my while to keep my job. I start babbling about government or corporate cover-ups on camera and I'm finished here. And I know plenty of guys who got the strength of the righteous and then mysteriously disappeared.

{{GM}}He picks up his gear and turns to go.{{/GM}}
Although the typhoon has passed, the scene is wet and chaotic. The newly-homeless crowd the streets, dazedly wandering, searching for missing loved-ones, and nursing injuries.

Relief workers are already on the scene, providing blankets and medical aid. Rescue personnel carry the stunned and wounded to safety. The entire area has been cordoned off by HKPF and Knight Errant officers and a military peacekeeping force has been deployed to maintain order.
Nearby, a reporter already has his hooks in a survivor. He jabs his microphone in the bedraggled man's face, looking for a sound bite.

The reporter wears a look of earnest concern like a coat of cheap deodorant.
And is that when you started running?
Yes. Yes, I was terrified!
And what was happening inside the Walled City, sir? Why are people flooding out of there injured and disoriented?
{{GM}}The man stares at the scene around him, bewildered.{{/GM}}

It's like everyone is saying. Some sort of... chemical leak. A drug lab exploded or something. Caused mass hallucinations.
{{GM}}The reporter turns to the camera and pretends to check his notes.{{/GM}}

There you have it, Sunny.

Our third report of mass hallucinations and violence caused by an explosion in an illegal drug lab. And while reports remain sketchy, it appears that street crime is again on the rise.
{{GM}}He half turns and sweeps his arm over the scene.{{/GM}}

As you can see, it's still turmoil and confusion here as police and Executive Council peacekeepers respond to the emergency situation attempting to maintain order. But in all this chaos, in the maze of poverty that *is* Kowloon Walled City, we may *never know* what really happened in there.

Back to you in the studio, Sunny.
{{GM}}He laughs sardonically and continues packing.{{/GM}}

Everyone's regurgitating a line of corpcrap, pal. They may not know it, but they are. Everything you see, everything you've been taught, every official you "elect", all bought and paid for by the people pulling the strings.
{{GM}}He laughs sardonically and continues packing.{{/GM}}

Of course there was no illegal drug spill. Of course it's a line of corpcrap. Everything you see, everything you've been taught, every official you "elect", all bought and paid for by the people pulling the strings.
No, I don't believe that story.

{{GM}}The reporter laughs sardonically and continues packing.{{/GM}}

Am I wearing a t-shirt that says, "I'm a fool, feed me your line of bullshit"? No. But in my experience, the rest of the world is. Everything you see, everything you've been taught, every official you "elect", all bought and paid for by the people pulling the strings.
I'm shocked!

{{GM}}He laughs sardonically and continues packing.{{/GM}}

Of course there was no illegal drug spill. Of course it's a line of corpcrap. Everything you see, everything you've been taught, every official you "elect", all bought and paid for by the people pulling the strings.
{{GM}}The reporter finishes packing. He stands up straight, brushing the wet grit of the street off his hands and his eyes narrow. He runs them over and your crew with a practiced eye.{{/GM}}

Looks like you just came from inside. So what did you *really* see in there?
Wouldn't surprise me if the whole thing blew up in her face because of low safety standards, either.

Nothing surprises me anymore.
Tell her hi back.

{{GM}}He smirks.{{/GM}}

What, are you surprised believe you? We live in the future - flying cars, dragons... why not a demon-goddess?

Hell, a corp probably summoned her for some kind of fear experiment or something. That kind of shit happens all the time - the Walled City's like their little petri dish. They *love* using 'em like lab rats.
The corps test food additives, body modifications, pharmaceuticals - whatever some junior executive can dream up.

Nothing surprises me anymore.
I've been reporting for twenty years, pal. It's getting so I can smell a cover-up while *driving* to a location like this.

Most of 'em involve me saying, "We may never know what really happened."
{{GM}}He blinks at you.{{/GM}}

Why would it? That's just the way it works. You think I give a shit about journalism? Do you think anyone does anymore?
The truth isn't my business. Ad revenue is my business.

News is nothing more than content, just like the new Mamie Canyon flesh BLT, Urban Brawl broadcast, or Maria Mercurial music trid.
Everyone on this island knows my news service is just a mouthpiece for the Executive Council. Hell, if you look close enough, you'll probably find that it's *owned* by a member of the Executive Council.

They buy what we feed them because the world is changing and it's scary and they feel small and they need people to blame and authority figures to tell them what to think. My news network gives them that.
{{GM}}He points his microphone at enormous trivid mounted on the news van.{{/GM}}

And there's a prime example of an authority figure. Jo Tsang, rising star on the Executive Council. Just *look* at her spinning this to her own ends.

Y'know -
Don't "Hello Auntie" me. I lost contact with the men I sent into the Walled City with you. Gobbet and Is0bel won't answer their commlinks, either. And now these Tsang assholes and government troops are all over the place.

Get over here tell me what the hell happened.
Some mysterious benefactor lifted the APB on you.

{{GM}}You can hear her suck on a little black cigar.{{/GM}}

We'll talk more when you get here.
I lost contact with the men I sent into the Walled City with you. Gobbet and Is0bel aren't answering their commlinks, either. And now these Tsang assholes and government troops are all over the place.

Get over here tell me what happened.
Tell me in person, $(l.name). I lost contact with the men I sent into the Walled City with you. Gobbet and Is0bel aren't answering their commlinks, either. And now these Tsang assholes and government troops are all over the place.

Get over here tell me what happened.
{{CC}}Strength: 2{{/CC}} I think you're just the guy to help me... out of a sense of self-preservation.
{{GM}}Let him see your credstick.{{/GM}} Maybe I could make it worth your while to help.
Don't be a fool. This place is swarming with cops and military.

I would think twice before I started threatening people around here. These guys play for keeps.

{{GM}}He picks up his gear and turns to go.{{/GM}}
Spirit Lightning Bolt
Lightning Bolt Power
Ball Lightning III
Lightning explosion that also does -1 AP. Ongoing -5 HP & -1 AP for 2 RNDS.
I hope that we can get below deck soon. It's freezing out here.
We just heard something interesting from some other locals on the raft. They said that they saw you chasing after our friend.
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}} We're working on it.
{{GM}}She swallows. Her eyes dart to her companion.{{/GM}}

They're lying. We told you, we haven't seen her.
I don't believe you. You're gonna tell us what's really going on here, or we're gonna have a problem.
Either you're lying or they are... but I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt.
I'm keeping my eye on you.
{{GM}}She looks frightened... but not of you. Her eyes keep darting toward the open hatch, as if she were afraid that something might come swarming out of it.{{/GM}}

We can't! It's against the rules!

We were told to take you below, we--
{{GM}}The dwarf yanks his weapon from its holster with a trembling hand. His cheeks are flushed.{{/GM}}

Stupid girl! You're not supposed to tell them! It'll tear us to shreds if it finds out!
{{GM}}Attack them.{{/GM}} Big mistake.
Drop your weapon! Now!
Wait. *What* will tear you to shreds?
The squatter looks beyond reason. Lost.

He answers your command with a bullet.
The squatter looks beyond reason. Lost.

He answers your question with a bullet.
I promise, we have no interest in harming you. And besides, look at us... even if we did want to hurt you, you'd slaughter us.

{{GM}}She smiles reassuringly.{{/GM}}

It's all right. You don't need to worry about us.
Changed my mind - I don't trust you after all. You'd better come clean or you're gonna get hurt.
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}} All right. I'll trust you - for now.
That's all right. I'd do the same in your place.

{{GM}}She smiles reassuringly.{{/GM}}

It's all right. You don't need to worry about us.
{{GM}}Her dwarf companion calls after you.{{/GM}}

Hurry back! We need to get you downstairs to meet with Malvina.
{{GM}}Her dwarf companion calls after you.{{/GM}}

Hurry back! Cadmus doesn't have long, after all.
{{GM}}Her dwarf companion calls after you.{{/GM}}

Hurry back! We can't leave Malvina waiting...
Powerbolt II
Testing Meh Deck
Testing Deck.
This man has a tired, world-weary demeanor about him. His eyes track your movements with a penetrating, critical precision. Something about him - the lines about his eyes, perhaps - makes you suspect he's seen a lot of terrible things happen.

He lifts his cup of cheap soykaf as you approach.
Let me guess. You're the freelancers the Elders are paying to look into the murders around here.
How'd you know?
That's right. Who are you?
You've got the right kind of eyes. Like you're looking for something, and don't seem to trust anyone.

Outsiders don't generally wander around Whampoa Garden without an escort. Locals don't make them feel too welcome unless they've been invited. And there's only one reason to be inviting shadowrunners out here.
Call me Demergo. I'm not one of the Whampoans, but I've been here long enough that they don't think twice about me being here.

{{GM}}Demergo drains the last of his soykaf in a large gulp.{{/GM}}

So what've you found so far?
You're awfully curious for a random guy.
Professional curiosity. I used to be with the New York Police Department as part of their thaumaturgical research division.

Part of the C.S.I. branch, except I did the magical investigation while the other guys pulled prints and checked blood samples.
{{GM}}Demergo tosses the soykaf cup toward the nearby garbage can. It bounces around the rim and and rolls inside.{{/GM}}

When I hear about shit like this happening? I keep my ear to the ground. Old habits, you know.
So why aren't you investigating it?
Seems like you're more cut out for this job than I am.
You're a long way from home, Demergo.
Elder Ng asked me to look into the killings after the first murder. She couldn't afford my fee, though, so I took a pass. It's not just the money, either.

{{GM}}Demergo shudders, folding his arms across his chest.{{/GM}}

You see that stuff day after day, you pay a price. It eats away at you.
You know what it's like to feel all that sickness and anger, every day? To be asked to pick up a murder weapon and re-live somebody's death? Feel it going into your neck? Pleading in the voice of a dead woman for her killer to spare you?

These days, I'd rather interrogate the living, thanks.
What are you talking about?
That sounds awful.
All things considered, that could be useful.
I can read objects. It's called psychometry. A little trick I managed to pick up - don't really know how. I hold something, I can tell you what happened to it. Who owned it. How it killed someone. If someone loved it, or was afraid of it.

Useful, but it'll tax your heart.
And before you ask, no. I'm not going to read anything you find. I already told Ng I didn't want any part of this. You want advice, I'll give you that. But I'm not getting drawn in further than that.

So aside from that... Is there anything I can help you with?
Awful. It's more than awful. It's a goddamn nightmare is what it is. One I couldn't wake up from for a long time.

Sometimes, you have to cut and run. Start fresh. At least now I can pick my own jobs.
{{GM}}Demergo nods, though his expression is still one of disgust and sickness.{{/GM}}

Sure, if you're appraising antiques or trying to find where a lost cat went. But turning that on murder scenes is an invitation to horrors beyond imagining.
Sure am. And I like it that way.

I got burned out on all the blood, murder, and death. Been here since '54, working freelance. It's hard when you don't know anybody, but magical detectives are pretty thin on the ground even in Hong Kong, so... I do okay.
{{GM}}Demergo's gotten himself a new cup of soykaf. He must run on that stuff. As you approach, he lifts it in salute.{{/GM}}

Hey again. Any new developments you need my help with?
What do you know about the murders?
Tong wasn't afraid when he died. He was caught by surprise.
Tong was killed by a bladed weapon. A single strike to the base of his neck.
Whoever fought the police in the garage did it at close range, with a blade.
I don't know much. Even though I've been here almost two years, I'm an outsider - they don't really accept anyone who's not as much of a tech-nut as they are. I'm just the crazy mage that lives down the road.

{{GM}}Demergo pauses and looks off into the distance as he collects his thoughts.{{/GM}}
Ip's got some heavy duty cyberwear. Basically an enforcer for the rest of the council - he doesn't seem to set much policy.

Ng is a shaman that worships machine spirits. It's all a bunch of hokum, if you ask me. Magic is magic. Whatever you wanna call the source is fine by me, but don't ask me to believe in the great spirit of electronics.
As for everybody else, they tend to be an okay bunch. A bit strange, but that's fringe culture for you.

They scrounge tech, rebuild it, sell it off. Some of them even have their own autofab shops.
Their stuff's pretty high quality, too. People from all over Asia come to shop here, if they need something rare or unusual.

Tight-knit little community, all things considered.
They started a couple of weeks ago. Elder Gan was the first to go - that's when Ng asked if I could look into them. He was ripped apart. Arms wrenched out of their sockets, skin flayed away with a razor-sharp knife. The rest have been the same.

Whatever did it sure didn't care about it being a clean death.
{{GM}}Demergo lowers his voice, leaning in toward you so that only you can hear.{{/GM}}

The funny thing is, the Hong Kong Police Force was out here a few weeks before that - maybe a month ago, tops. I know that doesn't seem like much, but the Whampoans don't usually let the police in here. That by itself is odd enough, but it gets even stranger.
The officers were loaded for bear, too - big guns and heavy armor with N.B.C. seals. The works.

They went into the parking garage near here, and there was some kind of gunfight. Never made it back out. When backup showed up, the Whampoans chased them away.
Why would they let cops in and chase them away?
That's exactly the kind of question you should be asking - and that the Elders refused to answer when I asked.

{{GM}}Demergo shrugs.{{/GM}}

Go take a look for yourself, if you want. Watch out, though. A gang's taken up residence in there, dealing drugs and BTLs. They call themselves the Red Spear. Not too violent, if you don't push them, but be careful what you say.
{{GM}}Demergo arches an eyebrow.{{/GM}}

That's not what I would have expected. With the amount of mess at each scene, the victims should have left behind a hell of a lot of fear and pain.

Are you sure?
Very sure. Tong died tonight, so the astral signature hasn't had time to fade. There was only a sense of perfunctory accomplishment.
Then it sounds like this wasn't a crime of passion. A planned attack would have that kind of resonance, in my experience. It's possible the gore show is to throw off anyone looking for the actual reason.

{{GM}}Demergo closes his eyes and starts to nod.{{/GM}}

Yeah. If I wanted to kill someone and get away with it, I'd try and point the finger at some kind of monster.
{{GM}}Demergo opens his eyes and smiles a thin, humorless grin.{{/GM}}

Basic investigation 101: it's usually the simplest explanation, but don't discount other possibilities.
You think the mess wasn't incidental?
It's a possibility.

Ask yourself this: if the mutilation happened after Tong's death, why would a killer perform that kind of ritual?
Serial killers who engage in that kind of ritual don't feel perfunctory about it, in my experience. It tends to feel more like they're taking communion - it's a religious or sexual feeling, most of the time.

If this didn't feel that way, I don't think the killer is actually pathological.
That's a precision attack. Most knife fights end up with a lot of shallow cuts and blood over the victim and attacker alike.

If Tong was killed by a single strike, he definitely wouldn't have seen it coming. And you can bet your last nuyen that whoever killed him is highly skilled with a blade.
That says to me that the attack is either a professional hitman or a practiced serial killer. It could be both, too. Assassins don't tend to be the most empathetic people.

{{GM}}Demergo considers this information for a moment before speaking again.{{/GM}}

Was the attack a thrust or a cut?
Why does that matter?
It was a slash. Why?
If the wound was a thrust, your attacker was using a knife of some kind. Anything over about ten inches would be pretty hard to thrust with at that kind of angle - the neck's too high for a longer blade.

If it's a slash, you're looking at a sword or cleaver attack. Both of those are popular with the triads. They make an awful mess, and send a message that they're not to be trifled with.
That's definitely unusual. There are a lot of people in Hong Kong who can fight with a blade, but not many of them could take on four police officers and win. That's a losing fight even for the best gangers out there.

Whoever you're looking for, they're no common killer.
Sounds like your killer is the same one the police fought. That's certain - there's nobody around here that could go toe to toe with four HKPF heavies at close range and come out on top. At least not any with a penchant for blades.

You find whoever's good with a sword and has a grudge against the Elders, you've got your killer.
Spirit Fetish
Possession of this fetish grants a benefit of +1 Charisma and +1 Spirit Control.
HKPF Mage
Metal Stance
Your attacks will do AP damage, or reduced HP damage. In exchange, your Dodge is increased by 1 and you take 2 less damage from all attacks. This stance cycles through three attacks in sequence.
Stance: Metal
Powerbolt IV
The rat shaman guides you from the doorway on the street through an eternity of winding alleys, damp subbasements, and empty buildings. Stumbling through refuse and filth, you make your way into the sewers below Victoria Harbour. It reeks down here, but it's quiet.

Gobbet stops, sniffs, and wipes her eyes with the back of her wrist. Her rats squeak softly in the folds of her clothing.		 La shaman rat vous guide depuis la porte de la rue dans un dédale de petite ruelles tortueuses, de soubassements humides et de bâtiments vides. Trébuchant dans les ordures et la saleté, vous tracez votre chemin dans les égouts courant sous Victoria Harbour. Ca pue la dedans. mais c'est tranquille.

Gobbet s'arrête, renifle, et s'essuie les yeux avec le dos de sa main. Ses rats couinent doucement dans les plis de ses vêtements.
The dwarf watches her silently for a moment, then moves closer and gently takes her hand. In the dim light of the sewer, you can see they're nearly the same age - no more than twenty. Twenty-one tops. La naine la regarde en silence pendant un moment, puis se rapproche et prend doucement sa main. Dans la pénombre des égouts, vous remarquez qu'elles ont à peu près le même âge - pas de plus de Vingt. Vingt-et-un ans maximum.
What were their names? Comment s'appelaient-ils?
We gotta keep going. Get more distance from the cops. Nous devons continuer. Mettre plus de distance entre nous et les flics.
Need a rest? Besoin de repos?
{{GM}}She keeps her head down and tells it to the floor.{{/GM}}

The troll you were talking to was Nightjar. He was our friend.

The elf was called Gutshot - kind of an asshole, but I didn't need to see his head splattered everywhere like that.		 {{GM}}Elle garde la tête baissée et parlant au sol.{{/GM}}


Le troll à qui vous parliez était Nightjar. Il était notre ami.

L'elfe s'appelait Gutshot - un vrai connard, mais je n'avais pas besoin de voir sa tête explosée comme ça.
{{GM}}She inhales a cleansing breath.{{/GM}}

Nightjar was a good guy. Always had our backs - Is0bel's and mine.		 {{GM}}Elle prend une grande respiration.{{/GM}}

Nightjar était un brave type. Protégeant toujours nos arrières - à Is0bel et moi.
{{GM}}Is0bel nods in agreement. Her voice is flat.{{/GM}}

Rare to find a runner that you can actually trust.

{{GM}}She looks to her friend.{{/GM}}

Are we clear?		 {{GM}}Is0bel acquise. Sa voix est posée.{{/GM}}

C'est plutôt rare de trouver un runner à qui tu peux réellement faire confiance.

{{GM}}Elle jette un œil à son amie.{{/GM}}

Tout va bien?
{{GM}}Gobbet looks back the way you came.{{/GM}}

I think we've shaken them.

{{GM}}She sniffs the air.{{/GM}}

Yeah. We're clear.		 {{GM}}Gobbet regarde vers l'endroit par où vous êtes arrivés.{{/GM}}

Je pense que nous les avons semés.

{{GM}}Elle renifle l'air.{{/GM}}

Ouais. Tout va bien.
Wu begins pacing, his boots splashing in the sewer water, creating echoes down the tunnel. You can feel the tension coming off of him in waves. Wu commence à faire les cents pas, ses bottes claquant dans l'eau des égouts, créant des échos dans tout le tunnel. Vous pouvez sentir la tension émanant de lui par vague.
This is bullshit. I'm done messing around in alleys and sewers. I'm done running from cops.

{{GM}}He pokes a thumb at his chest and spits his anger forth in a raspy growl.{{/GM}}

For fuck's sake, I *am* a cop.		 C'est des conneries. J'en ai ma claque de courir dans les ruelles et les égouts. J'en ai ma claque de m'enfuir devant les flics.

{{GM}}Il pointe son pouce vers son torse et crache, avec colère, dans un grondement rauque.{{/GM}}

Bordel de merde, je *suis* un flic.
We noticed. Nous avons remarqué.
There's a Lone Star sergeant dead back there, damn it. She was-- Il y a un sergent de la Lone Star mort là bas, bon sang. Elle était--
Wu starts to choke up. He struggles against it, fighting to maintain control, but he needs a minute to recover. He finally manages to pull it together, but he's raw. When he speaks again, his voice is seething and hoarse. Wu commence à bafouiller. Il se bat contre ses sentiments, luttant pour garder le contrôle, mais il a besoin d'une minute pour récupérer. Il parvient enfin à se ressaisir, mais il secoué. Lorsqu'il reprend la parole, sa voix est rauque et coléreuse.
I don't know what the hell's going on with the Hong Kong cops, but I'm calling in some Lone Star backup from home. I'm gonna get some of my *own* people down here.

Then we’re gonna find Raymond and figure out what the *hell's* going on.		 Bordel, je ne sais pas ce qu'il se passe avec les flics de Hong Kong, mais je vais appeler quelques renforts de la Lone Star de la maison. Je vais faire venir quelques uns de *mes* potes par ici.

Alors on pourra retrouver Raymond et comprendre quelque chose à ce *merdier*.
{{GM}}The little ork shrugs.{{/GM}}

Whatever you say, big guy. You have fun with that. 		{{GM}}Le jeune ork hausse les épaules.{{/GM}}

Fais ce que tu veux, mon grand. Amuses toi bien avec tout ça.
{{GM}}She looks over at her friend. They both nod.{{/GM}}

Izz and I are out of here. Best of luck finding your friend.		 {{GM}}Elle regarde son amie. Elles acquiescent toutes les deux.{{/GM}}

Izz et moi on se tire d'ici. Bonne chance pour retrouver votre ami.
Your people died in a hail of sniper fire. You're not gonna do anything about it? Vos amis sont morts dans une rafale de tirs de sniper. Vous n'allez rien faire à propos de ça?
Best of luck? That's it? Bonne chance? C'est tout?
He's not our friend. He's our foster father. Ce n'est pas notre ami. C'est notre père adoptif.
Of course we're gonna do something about it. In fact, we're gonna do *two* things.

*Run* and *hide.* 		Bien sur que nous allons faire quelque chose. En fait, nous allons faire *deux* choses.

*Courir* et *Se cacher*.
Look, we got you to safety, but now we are *done* with this shit. We don't intend to die for you. Ecoute, on est maintenant en sécurité, et on en a *terminé* avec cette merde. On ne veut pas mourir pour vous.
Wu isn't listening - you can see on his face that he's already written the ork girl off. He pulls his security-grade PDA from its holster on his left leg, raises it, and starts tapping the buttons with a meaty finger. The Lone Star logo on the back of the device looks shiny and official. Wu n'écoutes pas - vous pouvez voir sur son visage qu'il a déjà oublié la jeune ork. Il tire son PDA de niveau sécurité de son étui sur sa jambe gauche, le soulève, et commence à appuyer sur les boutons avec un doigt rageur. Le logo de la Lone Star apparaissant au dos de l'appareil semble brillant et officiel.
{{GM}}He stops, confused, and then taps it again harder. The red flashing image on the PDA reflects in his goggles.{{/GM}}

What the hell? I'm locked out of the network. 		{{GM}}Il s'arrête, confus, et tape encore plus fort. L'image rouge clignotante sur le PDA se réfléchit sur ses lunettes.{{/GM}}

C'est quoi ce bordel? Je suis supprimé du réseau.
{{GM}}He looks up at you.{{/GM}}

My law enforcement status has been revoked.		 {{GM}}Il vous regarde.{{/GM}}

Mon statut d'application de la loi a été révoqué.
{{GM}}He goes back to the screen.{{/GM}}

I don't believe it. This is saying there's an APB out on us, $(l.firstname).

You and me both.		 {{GM}}Il regarde de nouveau l'écran.{{/GM}}

J'y crois pas. Ca veut dire qu'il y a un APB sur nous, $(l.firstname).

Sur nous deux.
I figured as much. You heard them on the loudspeaker. They knew our names. J'y ai pensé. Tu les as entendu sur les haut-parleurs. Ils connaissaient nos noms.
Every cop in Hong Kong'll be after us now. Chaque flic de Hong Kong doit être à nos trousses maintenant.
This is bullshit. How do they know who we are? C'est des conneries. Comment savent-ils qui nous sommes?
{{GM}}Wu glares at the wall, a storm raging across his face.{{/GM}}

Fucking hell.

{{GM}}His hand clenches into a fist around his PDA.{{/GM}}

This just keeps getting worse.		 {{GM}}Wu fusille le mur du regard, une tempête de rage sur le visage.{{/GM}}

Putain de merde.

{{GM}}Ses doigts se resserrent en un poing autour de son PDA.{{/GM}}

Ca devient de pire en pire.
He leans forward as if to punch the wall, his knuckles rapping against it softly - a pantomime of barely constrained rage. Il se penche en avant, comme pour frapper dans le mur, ses articulations rappent contre celui ci doucement - une pantomime de rage à peine contenue.
Suddenly, he turns and slings his PDA at the far wall. It hits hard, bounces back, and clatters to the ground at his feet. He looks down at it, spent. Soudain, il se retourne et explose son PDA contre le mur. celui ci cogne fort, rebondit, et s'écrase sur le sol à ses pieds. Il le regarde un moment, réfléchissant.
{{GM}}The ork mouths an "o-kay" to herself, eyebrows raised.{{/GM}}

And on *that* note, I think it's time for us to say good-bye.

C'mon, Is0bel, let's--		 {{GM}}La bouche de l'ork se tord en un "o-kay", les sourcils froncés.{{/GM}}

Et sur *cette* note, je pense qu'il est temps pour nous de vous dire au revoir.

Viens, Is0bel, allons--
She's cut off by a sudden smashing noise as her friend's boot comes crashing down on the PDA at Wu's feet. The dwarf looks down at her work, unsatisfied, and brings her boot down again and again and again, until there's nothing left but a snarl of plastic housing, broken glass, and circuit board. Elle est interrompue par le bruit soudain de la botte de son amie écrasant le PDA de Wu gisant à ses pieds. La naine regarde son travail, insatisfaite, et l'écrase de nouveau, encore, et encore, et encore, jusqu'asse qu'il n'en reste rien à part un tas de plastique, de verre et de circuit brisés.
{{GM}}She looks up at Wu, her chest heaving, and points at the pile of scrap she's created.{{/GM}}

Police issued. They can trace you through that.

{{GM}}She turns to you, hand out.{{/GM}}

Yours, too. It's on the network.		 {{GM}}Elle regarde Wu, la poitrine haletante, et pointe le tas de ferraille qu'elle a créé.{{/GM}}

Délivré par la police. Ils peuvent nous retrouver grâce à ça.

{{GM}}Elle se tourne vers vous, la main tendue.{{/GM}}

Le tien, aussi. Il est connecté au réseau.
{{GM}}Hand her your PDA.{{/GM}} Well, there go all my free upgrade points. {{GM}}Donner votre PDA.{{/GM}} Eh bien, tout mes points de fidélité y sont passés.
{{GM}}Smash it yourself.{{/GM}} We bury our own. {{GM}}Explosez-le vous-même.{{/GM}} On s'en occupe.
{{GM}}Is0bel takes your PDA and repeats her boot stomping.{{/GM}}

There.

{{GM}}She looks over at Gobbet, sighs, then reaches into her jacket pocket, pulling out two new PDAs. She hands them to you and Duncan.{{/GM}}

Burners. I suppose it's the least we could do, after your help back there.		 {{GM}}Is0bel prend votre PDA et répète son piétinement de bottes.{{/GM}}

Voila.

{{GM}Elle regarde Gobbet, soupire, et fouille dans sa poche de veste, en sortant deux nouveaux PDA. Elle vous en tend un, ainsi qu'a Duncan.{{/GM}}

Vierges. Je suppose que c'est le moins qu'on puisse faire, après votre coup de main là bas.
{{GM}}You crush the PDA to shards under your foot while Is0bel looks on blankly.{{/GM}}

Good.

{{GM}}She looks over at Gobbett, sighs, then reaches into her jacket pocket, pulling out two new PDAs. She hands them to you and Duncan.{{/GM}}

Burners. I suppose it's the least we could do. After your help back there.		 {{GM}}Vous éclatez le PDA en morceaux sous votre botte pendant qu'Is0bel vous fixe.{{/GM}}

Bien.

{{GM}Elle regarde Gobbet, soupire, et fouille dans sa poche de veste, en sortant deux nouveaux PDA. Elle vous en tend un, ainsi qu'a Duncan.{{/GM}}

Vierges. Je suppose que c'est le moins qu'on puisse faire, après votre coup de main là bas.
Thanks. You people always keep a supply of burners in your pocket? Merci. Les gens comme vous gardent toujours un rab de PDA dans vos poches?
Got any snacks in there? I'm getting a bit peckish. Tu as des collations la dedans? Je commence à avoir un petit creux.
Thanks. Now what? Merci. Et maintenant?
Runners need to be prepared for contingencies. Isn't that right, Izz? Les runners doivent être préparés pour les imprévus. Pas vrai, Izz?
Now, we get out of this sewer and head our separate ways. Right, Izz? Maintenant, nous sortons de ces égouts et nos chemins se séparent. Pas vrai, Izz?
Is0bel isn't listening. She is staring open-mouthed at her own PDA, its bluish glow illuminating her horrified expression. Is0bel n'écoute pas. Elle regarde fixement son PDA la bouche ouverte, une lueur bleutée éclairant son expression horrifiée.
Gobbet, we gotta go. Right now.

{{GM}}Is0bel's voice is monotone but emphatic. She holds up her PDA to show her friend.{{/GM}}

They're after us, too.		 Gobbet, on doit y aller. Tout de suite.

{{GM}}Le voix d'Is0bel est monotone et emphatique. Elle lève son PDA pour le montrer à son amie.{{/GM}}

Ils sont après nous, aussi.
Her screen displays a local newscast. Your own face stares back at you from the upper-left corner of the screen. L'écran affiche le bulletin des nouvelles locales. Votre propre visage vous fixe depuis le coin supérieur gauche de l'écran.
...And in breaking news, just under an hour ago, Hong Kong port authorities were involved in a firefight with members of a terrorist cell linked to the mainland city-state of Henan. The battle left three terrorists dead, along with an unconfirmed number of Hong Kong police officers. ... Et une information de dernières nouvelles, il y a tout juste une heure, les autorités portuaires de Hong Kong ont été impliqués dans un échange de tirs avec des membres d'une cellule terroriste liée à la ville-état continentale de Henan. La bataille a fait trois morts chez les terroristes, et un nombre non confirmé de policiers de Hong Kong.
Your image winks out, replaced by a scowling image of Duncan Wu - a mugshot from a long time ago. Before Raymond. Votre photo disparaît, remplacée par une image dérangeante de Duncan Wu - une photo de casier judiciaire prise il y a longtemps. Avant Raymond.
Our sources report that Seattle natives Duncan Wu and $(l.fullname), along with their Hong Kong-based accomplices, are still at large. They are well armed and should be considered extremely dangerous. Nos sources rapportent que les étrangers de Seattle Duncan Wu et $(l.fullname), ainsi que leurs complices basés à Hong Kong, sont toujours en fuite. Ils sont lourdement armés et doivent être considérés comme extrêmement dangereux.
Low-res photographs of Gobbet and Is0bel pop up on screen, replacing Duncan Wu. Des photographies de mauvaises qualités de Gobbet et Is0bel apparaissent à l'écran, remplaçant celle de Duncan Wu.
{{GM}}The color drains out of Gobbet's face.{{/GM}}

Oh, shit. 		{{GM}}Le visage de Gobbet devient livide.{{/GM}}

Oh, merde.
Kowloon officials report that the terrorist cell, known as the White Star, maintains ties to the state of Henan, and it is purported to be receiving weapons and funding from anti-corporate groups in the UCAS City-State of Seattle.

Port authorities are standing on high alert, and the Hong Kong Police Force's Special Duties Unit has been engaged to deal with the threat. We go live now to Chief Inspector Krait of the Special Duties Unit, who will be making a statement.		 Les officiels de Kowloon déclarent que cette cellule terroriste, connu sous le nom de White Star, entretient des liens avec l'état de Henan, et est censée recevoir des armes et un financement de groupes anti-corporations de la cité-état de Seattle en UCAS.

Les autorités portuaires sont en alerte maximale, et les Forces Spéciales de la police de Hong Kong a été appelé pour faire face à la menace. Nous sommes maintenant en direct avec l'Inspecteur en chef Krait des Forces spéciales, qui va faire une déclaration.
Behind the newscaster, a video window displays the location of your firefight in Victoria Harbour. The camera pans to Chief Inspector Krait. She is surrounded by a swarm of news reporters but appears unfazed by the attention. She speaks with supreme confidence. Derrière la journaliste, une fenêtre affiche une vidéo du lieu de votre fusillade dans le Victoria Harbour. La caméra filme l'Inspecteur en chef Krait. Elle est entourée d'une nuée de journalistes mais semble imperturbable. Elle parle avec une suprême assurance.
We have yet to ascertain the motive for tonight's attack, but it was clearly a well-planned and coordinated effort.

{{GM}}Krait sounds smooth - more like a corporate mouthpiece than a cop.{{/GM}}

We have already issued an All Points Bulletin along with a "Kill or Capture" order for the four remaining terrorists, and I have instructed the Special Duties Unit to make this manhunt a top priority.		 Nous devons encore déterminer les motivations de l'attaque de ce soir, mais il est clair qu'il s'agissait d'une action planifiée et coordonnée.

{{GM}}Krait parle froidement - plutôt comme un porte parole d'une corporation qu'un policier.{{/GM}}

Nous avons déjà émis un All Points Bulletin avec un ordre de "Tuer ou capturer" pour les quatre terroristes restant, et j'ai ordonné à l'unité des Forces Spéciales de faire de cette chasse à l'homme une priorité absolue.
{{GM}}She looks directly into the camera.{{/GM}}

If you should see one or more of these individuals, do *not* attempt to engage them. Instead, tap in the HKPF flash code at the bottom of the screen. If you are on an authorized network and take a picture, our system will automatically identify them in your datastream...		 {{GM}}Elle regarde directement la caméra.{{/GM}}

Si vous voyez un ou plusieurs de ces individus, n'essayez *pas* de les capturer. Au lieu de cela, utilisez le flash code HKPF en bas de votre écran. Si vous êtes sur un réseau légal, prenez une photographie, notre système les identifiera automatiquement dans notre flux de données...
The decker switches off the newscast and clips her PDA back onto her belt. For a moment, there's no sound but the roar of sewer water rushing through the pipes.

Gobbet bends over, hands on her knees, sucking wind. Her rats scurry for a new position.		 La decker coupe le journal télévisé et rattache son PDA à sa ceinture. Pendant un moment, il n'y a aucun bruit en dehors de l'eau des égouts se précipitant aux travers des tuyaux.

Gobbet se penche, les mains sur les genoux, suçotant le vent. Ses rats courent à la recherche d'une nouvelle position.
I thought we were fucked before.

{{GM}}Wu's voice is eerily calm.{{/GM}}

But now we are well and truly fucked.		 Je pensais qu'on était foutus avant.

{{GM}}La voix de Wu est étrangement calme.{{/GM}}

Mais maintenant nous sommes bel et bien baisés.
How bad is it? A quel point c'est mauvais?
We'll deal with it, Duncan. We always do. Nous ferons avec, Duncan. Nous l'avons toujours fait.
Doesn't look good, does it? Ca sent pas bon, n'est ce pas?
Really bad, $(l.firstname). Vraiment mauvais, $(l.firstname).
{{GM}}He begins stalking back and forth, a panther in a cage.{{/GM}}

They've labeled us terrorists, and there's an APB out on us. I've heard this kind of announcement before. I know what comes with it. It doesn't matter if we have nothing to do with that whatever city-state.

They're gonna hunt us down. It's open season.		 {{GM}}Il commence à faire les cents pas, comme une panthère en cage.{{/GM}}

Ils nous ont étiqueté comme terroristes, et il y a un APB sur nos têtes. J'ai déjà vu ce genre de contrat avant. Je sais ce que ça entraine. Ca n'a plus aucune important que nous n'ayons aucun lien avec cette cité-état.

Ils vont nous chasser à mort. La saison est ouverte.
{{GM}}Is0bel nudges the remains of Wu's PDA with her booted toe.{{/GM}}

And the two of us will be hunted down right alongside you.		 {{GM}}Is0bel pousse les restes du PDA de Wu du bout du pied.{{/GM}}

Et nous serons traquées avec vous.
{{GM}}Gobbet wide-eyes the exits, tight as a spring. You can hear shallow panting as she leans towards one, then the other.{{/GM}}

We gotta go deep. Hit the mainland for a while until we can figure this out. Find a hole to crawl into.		 {{GM}}Les yeux de Gobbet sont exorbités. Vous pouvez entendre sa respiration haletante alors qu'elle se berce d'avant en arrière.{{/GM}}

Nous devons nous cacher. Rejoindre le continent pendant un moment jusqu'à ce que nous y comprenions quelque chose. Trouver un trou pour y ramper.
{{GM}}Gobbet looks at Is0bel, wipes her mouth, and points at you and Duncan.{{/GM}}

We've gotta get *them* off the grid, too. Way off.		 {{GM}}Gobbet regarde Is0bel, essuie sa bouche, et vous pointe, vous et Duncan, du doigt.{{/GM}}

Nous allons devoir *les* éloigner de la grille, aussi. Vraiment loin.
{{GM}}The dwarf looks up at Duncan, and her large eyes narrow.{{/GM}}

Hey. Lone Star. You've got a security license, right? That means that you've got a SIN, too.		 {{GM}}La naine regarde Duncan, et ses grands yeux s'étrécissent.{{/GM}}

Hey. Lone Star. Tu as une licence de sécurité, pas vrai? Ca signifie que tu as aussi un SIN.
{{GM}}Wu's brow furrows.{{/GM}}

Of course I have a SIN. I wouldn't be able to get paid otherwise.

Only criminals and lowlifes go SINless.		 {{GM}}Le front de Wu se creuse de rides.{{/GM}}

Bien sur que j'ai un SIN. Je ne pourrais pas être payé autrement.

Seuls les criminels et les voyous n'ont pas de SIN.
{{GM}}She runs her hands along her cyberdeck, thinking.{{/GM}}

That means that you can be traced. Both of you.

You get spotted by a drone or a security camera, get ID'd by a retinal scanner, or try to use your credstick or passport, and the HKPF will know *just* where to find you.		 {{GM}}Elle fait jouer ses doigts sur son cyberdeck, réfléchissant.{{/GM}}

Ca signifie que tu peux être retracé. Tous les deux.

Si vous êtes repérés par un drone ou une caméra de sécurité, identifiés par un scanner rétinien, ou si vous utilisez votre creditube ou votre passeport, HKPF saura *exactement* où vous trouver.
{{GM}}Wu crosses his arms across his chest.{{/GM}}

I know how a System Identification Number works, runner.		 {{GM}}Wu croise les bras sur sa poitrine.{{/GM}}

Je sais comment le System Identification Number fonctionne, runner.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Shadowrunner{{/CC}} We're gonna have to burn our SINs, if we're gonna survive this. {{CC}}Etiquette: Shadowrunner{{/CC}} Nous allons devoir bruler nos SINs, si nous voulons survivre à tout ça.
So we're stuck in this country. No money, no passport, nothing. Donc nous sommes coincés dans ce pays. Pas argent, Pas de passeport, rien.
Leave her alone, Duncan. We're all in this together. Laisse-la tranquille, Duncan. Nous sommes tous dans le même galère.
I can't believe this. Je ne peux pas y croire.
{{GM}}The two women nod.{{/GM}}

You got that right, Seattle.		 {{GM}}Les deux femmes acquiescent.{{/GM}}

Tu peux le dire, Seattle.
{{GM}}Gobbet pulls at her dreadlocks.{{/GM}}

We're just as screwed as you are. Me and Izz, we were listed as your accomplices.

And we can't afford for you to get caught. You'll lead 'em to us, one way or another. DNA samples, things we've told you, astral residue, I don't know... cop stuff.		 {{GM}}Gobbet tire sur ses dreadlocks.{{/GM}}

Nous sommes autant baisées que vous. Moi et Izz, nous sommes cataloguées comme vos complices.

Et nous ne pouvons pas nous faire prendre. Vous allez les conduire droit sur nous, d'une façon ou d'une autre. Echantillons d'ADN, toutes les choses dont nous avons déjà parlé, résidus astraux, je sais pas... les trucs de flics.
The little decker looks from you to Wu, eyes narrowed, sizing you up. You can see her make a silent decision before she speaks. Her voice is flat, resigned. La petite decker vous regarde vous et Wu, les yeux plissés, vous jaugeant. Vous pouvez la voir prendre une décision silencieuse avant qu'elle ne commence à parler. Sa voix est calme, résignée.
We need to get your SINs burned. Delete you from the record books.

All of 'em.		 Nous devons bruler vos SINs. Vous effacer des banques d'enregistrements.

De toutes.
All of them? Whoa, wait a minute. You want us to just erase *our identities?*

{{GM}}Wu rubs a hand across his scalp.{{/GM}}

Beyond the fact that it's insane, will that even *work?* If we burn our SINs, go off the grid like that, won't they just redouble their efforts to find us?		 De toutes? Whoa, attend une minute. Tu veux juste effacer *nos identités*?

{{GM}}Wu se passe une main dans les cheveux.{{/GM}}

En dehors du fait que c'est complétement fou, est ce que ca va *fonctionner*? Si nous brulons nos SINs, s'éloignant de la grille par la même occasion, est ce qu'ils ne vont pas juste redoubler d'efforts pour nous retrouver?
{{GM}}Condescension seeps its way into Is0bel's dry tone.{{/GM}}

Imagine playing a game of hide-and-seek with a siren strapped to your head. Would you rather try and hide with the siren, or with the siren conspicuously absent?		 {{GM}}Une pointe de condescendance filtre dans le ton sec d'Is0bel.{{/GM}}

Imagines toi jouant à cache-cache avec une sirène attachée sur la tête. Tu préfères essayer de te cacher avec la sirène, ou avec la sirène aux abonnés absents?
Deleting our identities across the entire Matrix sounds hard. Effacer nos identités à travers toute la Matrice semble dur à croire.
This is bullshit. I'm gonna find a way to smuggle myself back to Seattle. C'est des conneries. Je vais trouver un moyen pour retourner clandestinement à Seattle.
Let's just get on with it. What do we have to do? Supposons qu'on soit d'accord avec ça. Que devons nous faire?
{{GM}}The little decker nods knowingly.{{/GM}}

It's very difficult. I can't do it. Some people can… organizations… expert systems.		 {{GM}}La petite decker acquiesce en connaissance de cause.{{/GM}}

C'est très difficile. Je ne peux pas le faire. Certaines personnes peuvent ... des organisations... des systèmes experts.
{{GM}}Wu gives you his "don't be an idiot" voice.{{/GM}}

With what resources? We don't know anybody in this country, $(l.firstname). We have no network here.		 {{GM}}Wu vous parle sur le ton du "Ne sois pas idiot".{{/GM}}

Avec quelle ressources? Nous ne connaissons personne dans ce pays, $(l.firstname). Nous n'avons aucun réseau ici.
{{GM}}His baritone growl gets low and intense.{{/GM}}

You saw what they did to those runners. To Carter.

You'll be dead before you can take two steps.		 {{GM}}Son timbre de baryton devient faible et intense.{{/GM}}

Tu as vu ce qu'ils ont fait à ces runners. A Carter.

Tu serais mort avant d'avoir fait deux mètres.
So what's the alternative?
{{GM}}Gobbet's voice drops.{{/GM}}

We gotta ask for help.

There's only one person we know who has the kind of pull it takes to burn a SIN and hide us from the cops.

Kindly Cheng.		 {{GM}}La voix de Gobbet est faible.{{/GM}}

Nous allons devoir demander de l'aide.

Il n'y a qu'une personne que nous connaissons qui puisse détruire vos identités et nous cacher des flics.

Kindly Cheng.
Who's Kindly Cheng? Some sort of superdecker? Qui est Kindly Cheng? Une sorte de superdecker?
Let me guess. This Kindly Cheng is some sort of underworld hard-ass. Laisse moi deviner. Cette Kindly Cheng est une sorte de dure-à-cuir du monde souterrain.
Sounds like a restaurant. On dirait un nom de restaurant.
No. Kindly's no decker. Non. Kindly n'est pas une decker.
She's what's known as a Straw Sandal - kind of a middle manager for the Yellow Lotus syndicate.

They're triad.

Kindly Cheng controls all the illegal activity in our neighborhood - smuggling, bootlegging, counterfeiting. 		Elle est ce qu'on appelle une Sandale de Paille - une sorte de responsable intermédiaire pour le syndicat du Yellow Lotus.

C'est la triade.

Kindly Cheng contrôle toutes les activités illégales dans le voisinages - la contrebandes, les trafiques et la contrefaçon.
Middle manager? Is the Yellow Lotus a syndicate or a retail outlet? Responsable intermédiaire? Le Yellow Lotus est un syndicat ou un point de vente?
No way. We're already in deep enough. We don't need to get in deeper with a crime syndicate. Pas question. Nous sommes déjà assez dans la merde. Nous n'avons pas besoin d'y ajouter un syndicat du crime.
Sounds like my kind of scum. On dirait mon genre de racaille préféré.
{{GM}}Gobbet leans in, serious as death.{{/GM}}

Do not get the wrong impression. Kindly Cheng is no bureaucrat. She controls a good-sized portion of Kowloon's underworld. She has soldiers. Resources. She's smart.

And she is *not* to be underestimated.		 {{GM}}Gobbet se penche, sérieuse comme la mort.{{/GM}}

Ne te fais pas de fausses idées. Kindly Cheng n'est pas une bureaucrate. Elle contrôle une bonne partie du monde souterrain de Kowloon. Elle a des soldats, des ressources. Elle est intelligente.

Et elle ne doit *pas* être sous-estimée.
{{GM}}Is0bel's voice is hollow and flat.{{/GM}}

Taking favors from a woman like Kindly Cheng is a good way to get yourself into indentured servitude. You don't want to owe favors to a woman like that.		 {{GM}}La voix d'Is0bel est calme et posée{{/GM}}

Devoir une faveur à une femme comme Kindly Cheng est un bon moyen pour terminer en servitude sous contrat. Vous ne voulez pas devoir de faveurs à une femme comme ça.
{{GM}}Her eyes get big. Round.{{/GM}}

Ideally, you don't want to deal with her at all.

That was Nightjar's job.		 {{GM}}Ses yeux s'élargissent. Tout rond.{{/GM}}

Idéalement, vous ne souhaitez pas traiter avec elle du tout.

C'était le boulot de Nightjar.
Nightjar's job? You mean you work with her? Le boulot de Nightjar? Tu veux dire que vous bossiez pour elle?
Wait a minute. You *know* this woman? Attendez une minute. Vous *connaissez* cette femme?
What did we just tell you? She's got her fingers in everything, including brokering shadowruns for the corps.

Kindly Cheng is our Fixer.		 Qu'est ce qu'on vient de vous dire? Elle trempe dans tout, incluant les contrats des shadowrunners pour les corpos.

Kindly Cheng est notre Fixer.
{{GM}}Gobbet tries to make her voice light. Confident.{{/GM}}

Just stay on her good side and you'll have nothing to worry about.

Now let's get this done before one of you trips the APB and brings all hell down upon us.		 {{GM}}Gobbet essaie d'avoir une voix claire. Assurée.{{/GM}}

Il suffit de rester dans ses petits papiers et tu n'auras rien à craindre.

Maintenant il faut y parvenir avant que l'un de vous déclenche un APB et que l'enfer vienne taper à nos portes.
We've only met once or twice. Nightjar was the one who worked with her. Like I said, she's got her fingers in everything, including brokering shadowruns for the corps.

Kindly Cheng is our Fixer.		 Nous l'avons seulement rencontré une ou deux fois. Nightjar se chargeait de bosser avec elle. Comme je le disais, elle trempe dans tout, incluant les contrats des shadowrunners pour les corpos.

Kindly Cheng est notre Fixer.
We don't want to deal with Kindly Cheng any more than you do, but I don't see what choice we have. We need protection and we need to get your SINs burned before we're all red smears on the sidewalk. Nous ne voulons pas plus que toi traiter avec Kindle Cheng, mais je ne vois pas quel autre choix nous avons. Nous avons besoin de protection et nous devons bruler vos SINs avant de finir en tache écarlate sur le trottoir.
{{GM}}She leans in, serious as death.{{/GM}}

This is no joke.

Kindly Cheng controls a good-sized portion of Kowloon's underworld.

She has soldiers. Resources. She's smart.

And she is *not* to be underestimated.		 {{GM}}Elle se penche, sérieuse comme la mort.{{/GM}}

Y'a pas de quoi rire.

Kindly Cheng contrôle une bonne partie du monde souterrain de Kowloon.

Elle a des soldats, des ressources. Elle est intelligente.

Et elle ne doit *pas* être sous-estimée.
Like a walnut. Comme une noix.
Yeah, well, she's not. And don't let her hear you say something like that, or you'll be searching for your tongue on the floor. Ouais, eh bien, c'est pas le cas. Et ne lui dites jamais quelque chose du genre, sinon votre langue va finir sur le plancher.
Tell me about it.

Do you have any idea how hard it was to get Lone Star accredited with *my* background?		 Tu m'en diras tant.

As tu seulement idée de la difficulté que ca a été d'avoir une accréditation à la Lone Star avec *mon* passé?
{{GM}}Wu's mouth tightens.{{/GM}}

Not this time, $(l.firstname). 		{{GM}}Les lèvres de Wu se resserrent.{{/GM}}

Pas cette fois, $(l.firstname).
{{GM}}His mouth tightens.{{/GM}}

Not. At. All.		 {{GM}}Ses lèvres se resserrent.{{/GM}}

Non. Vraiment pas.
{{GM}}Wu grits his teeth.{{/GM}}

You're damn right they will be.		 {{GM}}Wu montre les dents.{{/GM}}

Tu peux parier qu'ils le sont.
{{GM}}Wu grits his teeth.{{/GM}}

I don't know. I don't get it. 		{{GM}}Wu montre les dents.{{/GM}}

Je n'en sais rien. Je ne comprends pas.
{{GM}}Her brow furrows.{{/GM}}

That's right. What did you expect? We form some sort of posse like in your old cowboy vids? Ride out to find the killers and see justice done?

We got you to safety, and now we are *done* with this shit. We don't intend to die for you.		 {{GM}}Elle fronce les sourcils.{{/GM}}

C'est ça. Tu t'attendais à quoi? Nous formons une sorte de bande comme dans tes vieux films de cowboy? Chevauchant pour retrouver les tueurs et voir la justice rendue?

Nous vous avons conduit en sécurité, et maintenant nous en avons *terminé*. Nous n'avons pas l'intention de mourir pour vous.
{{GM}}She looks straight at you. Her tone is flat.{{/GM}}

And he's probably a dead man. Sorry, but it's the truth.		 {{GM}}Elle se rapproche de vous. Son ton est calme.{{/GM}}

Et c'est probablement un homme mort. Désolé, mais c'est la vérité.
{{GM}}The two women exchange a glance.{{/GM}}

No. We're good.		 {{GM}}Les deux femmes échangent un regard.{{/GM}}

Non. Tout va bien.
Stun
Does an additional 2 AP DMG, and -1 AP the following RND. Ignores the weapon's HP damage. Cooldown: 2
Stun: AP -1 per RND
{{GM}}A guard steps forward and raises his hand.{{/GM}}

Sorry, $(l.sir). This area's off limits.
And why is that?
This is the Wuxing Employee Patio, reserved for Wuxing customers and their guests. General public's not admitted.
Why don't you head back to your table? There's ample seating in the main dining room.
What if I ask nicely? Will you let me through then?
I could always force my way past you, y'know.
Yeah, yeah. I can take a hint.
{{GM}}A corner of the guard's mouth cracks into a weak smile.{{/GM}}

Sorry, but not even the mighty "please" and "thank you" will help you here.
{{GM}}The guard lazily looks you over.{{/GM}}

We have a hyper-responsive security team on duty. You could try, but you won't get far.
What's the problem?
Security's got the area closed down to contain a situation on the docks. No gawking allowed. This is the Wuxing Employee Patio, reserved for Wuxing customers and their guests. General public's not admitted.

{{GM}}He widens his stance to emphasize his authority.{{/GM}}
This area's off limits. Move along.
G-go away.

{{GM}}His red-rimmed eyes glisten with anger.{{/GM}}

I don't wanna t-t-talk to you any m-more.
Th-thank you for your help. I'll th-think about what you s-said.
Stephen Dynamite lolls on the sidewalk. While he jerks less as he moves, his skin has taken on a gray hue and his chest heaves with each labored breath.
{{GM}}His sunken eyes swivel toward you. He wets his parched lips and addresses you.{{/GM}}

Hello. I'm r-relieved to s-see y-you. Thought y-you m-might not r-return. C-can't trust anyone. This is a b-bad p-place.
You kidding? I said I'd be back, and here I am.
Hey, Steve. I hate to say it, but you're not looking so hot.
You doubted me? I'm disappointed, Steve-O.
{{GM}}The junkie slumps in place. Furrowing his brow, he responds with difficulty.{{/GM}}

Anyway, t-thanks f-for t-talking to that little b-bastard for m-me.

S-so. You got my m-money?
{{CC}}Item: Bliss{{/CC}} Lee didn't have your money. He gave me this to pass off to you instead.
{{GM}}The junkie's eyes light up at the sight of the packet from Handsome Lee.{{/GM}}

Oho...
Just to warn you, it's the exact same stuff that you thought was poison.
Maybe kicking the habit would be a better idea. It's practically ruined you, man.
I'm thinking that you might be better off if I held onto it for you.
{{GM}}The man waves his hand dismissively.{{/GM}}

I must've been d-delirious or high at the time. Give it to me!
Are you sure?
This is a terrible idea. You're messed up bad enough as it is.
One last h-hit. That's all I n-need to get by.
{{CC}}Strength: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Hard){{/CC}} I can't let you do this to yourself. You take another hit, and I'm gonna hit you. Got it?
{{CC}}Item: Bliss{{/CC}} {{GM}}Hand over the drugs.{{/GM}} It's your funeral.
Sorry, Steve. I've decided to keep the drugs for myself.
{{GM}}The junkie cowers before you. His eyes blaze with anger, but he relinquishes his grip.{{/GM}}

Hope you f-feel proud of b-bullying sad sacks like me.

I didnt r-really want that h-h-it anyhow.
I'm gonna do you a favor by taking this packet away from you.
'Course you didn't. There's a good man.
{{GM}}His eyes glitter with tears.{{/GM}}

Y-y-yeah. S-sure you are.
I *am* trying to help you, Stephen. Now, I want you to tell me about these dreams of yours.
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}} Later, sucker.
B-burn in hell, t-traitor.
{{GM}}His eyes glitter with tears.{{/GM}}

Go on. G-go away, and l-leave me to die in p-peace.
Nope. Not until you tell me about these dreams of yours. I said I'd help you, remember?
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}} Gladly.
He eagerly snatches the packet of Bliss from your hand, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
Before you take that, I wanna ask you about these dreams.
{{GM}}He looks up at you, suddenly suspicious.{{/GM}}

You want to ask about my d-dreams? Why?
Because I want to help you, you idiot.
Because I've been having bad dreams, too. Maybe we can get to the bottom of them together.
Because some really weird stuff is going down in this town, and your story might help shed some light on it.
{{GM}}He stares you in the eye, and his voice drops to a sharp whisper.{{/GM}}

These aren't like ordinary d-dreams. They're v-visions. They're... *so real.*

I've p-put all kinds of s-substances into my b-body, and I've *never* experienced anything l-like this.
You were practically raving the last time we talked. Explain your dreams to me again clearly this time.
"All kinds of substances," huh? Why so many drugs, Lee?
{{GM}}He nods, though his tongue stumbles and stalls as he speaks.{{/GM}}

I'm w-walking through a series of d-dark, narrow halls. It s-stinks to high h-heaven, and I r-run into more and more p-p-people as I m-move forward.
The p-people are j-jostling me, b-b-but I'm starving - like I h-haven't eaten for d-days. I j-just want s-some food, so I press on.

I s-start seeing children in the crowd. Ch-children with t-terrible b-b-burns, d-disfigured f-faces. All these p-people are g-g-grabbing at me.
{{GM}}He begins to tremble from head to foot, and his eyes bulge.{{/GM}}

Then I see t-t-teeth all around m-me... I *f-feel* the teeth on me!

{{GM}}Bathed in sweat from the effort of speaking, he cradles his head in his arms.{{/GM}}
Okay, Steve. I think that I'm getting what's going on here.
Okay, Steve. Let's talk about the drugs. You said that you're on a lot of them, right?
I can see why you needed "relief." The drugs help, right?
You must know that the drugs are making these nightmares worse, right? So why take so many of them?
{{GM}}The junkie gives a weary smile.{{/GM}}

More than I can c-count.
I used to get my k-kicks from e-explosives. I l-loved blowing up stuff - seeing g-glass splintering, solid walls d-disintegrating, f-flames l-licking the sky...

Not any m-more. Now I stick to n-needles and p-p-pills.
Hang on. You blew stuff up?
Were you a shadowrunner?
Were you in the military?
I was a b-bomb-maker. I designed c-c-custom ordinance.

It was a d-dream-job... plus, it was very lucrative.

{{GM}}He rubs his thumb and forefinger together, then snaps.{{/GM}}

Megacorps c-couldn't get e-enough of the devices I invented. I was t-too high on my own e-ego to w-wonder what they w-were up to.
You sound like a pyromaniac.
What were the megacorps doing, then?
{{GM}}He smiles wistfully.{{/GM}}

A little, yeah. The p-power - the beauty - of explosions enthralled m-me.

But I n-never wanted to h-hurt people.
What the hell did you think the bombs were for?
I like things that go boom, too. In moderation, of course.
{{GM}}The junkie shrugs dismissively, but he avoids your gaze.{{/GM}}

For w-wars, mostly. M-militias, mercenaries, armies - I guess it d-didn't occur to me that soldiers were *people.*

Only...
Only what?
Sounds convenient. I wish that I were that good at lying to myself.
That's why I'm a big pacifist, myself.
{{GM}}The junkie begins to fidget and gnaw at his fingernails.{{/GM}}

Only the b-bombs were used against *c-civilian* t-t-targets.
{{GM}}The man starts digging his rough fingernails into his palms so hard that tiny crescents of blood stain his palms.{{/GM}}

I'm from Guizhou. Sichuan has t-taken over m-much of the province, b-but pockets of resistance r-remain.

These are big p-political struggles, actions removed from the l-lives of ordinary p-people...
Yet the *v-village* where I grew up in Guizhou was a-a-annihilated.

These were t-tobacco farmers! Winemakers! P-p-peasants! Not military.
{{GM}}Tears leak from the man's eyes, tracing narrow lines down his filthy cheeks.{{/GM}}

I recognized the distinctive p-patterns, the traces that were left b-behind.

These were *my* bombs, used to shatter the l-landscape of my *childhood.*
Why would Sichuan bother to bomb a village?
When your village was bombed, did you lose anyone that you knew?
All right, Steve. I get the picture. Now tell me about your dreams.
To break the spirit of the p-people.

It b-broke m-m-mine.
{{GM}}The junkie's shoulders heave and shake, and he passes a hand over his face.{{/GM}}

Now I j-j-just want to forget. The drugs h-help - sometimes.
{{GM}}He meets your gaze with red-rimmed eyes. He throws his arms wide.{{/GM}}

I knew them *a-all.* From the f-frailest elders to the l-littlest children.

M-my own f-family d-d-died, too. We weren't always c-close - p-pyromaniac inventors don't fit in well in agricultural b-backwaters - b-but they were my only k-kin.
{{GM}}The man flinches.{{/GM}}

You're r-right, I did l-lie to myself.

In fact, y-you've g-guessed the truth.
{{GM}}The man barks with joyless laughter.{{/GM}}

Now that's a lie. You r-run the shadows, you d-don't know who you work for, you're ignorant of the c-consequences of y-your actions.

You've f-fostered violence. You c-can't have it both ways.
Are we talking about me or you?
At least I didn't invent weapons of mass destruction.
Touché. But just d-don't think your hands are clean.
I'm at peace with what I do, thank you.
So what happened to turn you against your former life?
But I wash them with soap after potty breaks and meals!
{{GM}}The man shakes his head sorrowfully.{{/GM}}

As you will. Just h-hope you don't end up like m-me down the road.
{{GM}}The junkie chews his lip and throws you a sidelong glance.{{/GM}}

I n-never used to give a shit either.

Until my b-beloved b-b-bombs were used against *civilian* t-targets.
{{GM}}The junkie looks at you and snorts.{{/GM}}

F-funny.

Look, I just h-hope you don't end up like m-me down the road.
{{GM}}The junkie casts his eyes to the floor.{{/GM}}

I think you've basically g-guessed the t-truth, then.
{{GM}}The junkie begins to fidget and gnaw at his fingernails.{{/GM}}

The b-bombs that I was s-so proud of were used against *c-civilian* t-t-targets.
{{GM}}A gleam of light appears in the junkie's sunken, bloodshot eyes, and a shadow of a grin appears on his cracked lips.{{/GM}}

There's n-nothing m-moderate about a well-designed incendiary d-device.
{{GM}}The spark of life in his gaze suddenly fades.{{/GM}}

I thought my b-bombs were used in w-wars against m-militias, mercenaries, and armies - and I d-didn't think of them as *people.*

But the w-w-weapons I developed w-were used against *civilian* t-targets.
They were fueling wars. They often managed to s-sell to both sides in c-conflicts all over the world, c-casualties be damned.
That's nothing new. War profiteering is as old as war itself.
So by selling to them, there's blood on your hands?
{{GM}}The junkie's face assumes an ashen hue, and the corners of his mouth pull downward.{{/GM}}

Yes, yes. W-war...

I thought my b-bombs were used in w-wars against m-militias, mercenaries, and armies - and I d-didn't think of them as *people.*

But the w-w-weapons I developed got used against *civilian* t-targets.
{{GM}}The junkie's already sickly pallor turns ashen.{{/GM}}

It's not even as simple as that.
{{GM}}The man balls his hands into fists in his lap.{{/GM}}

I thought my b-bombs were used in w-wars against m-militias, mercenaries, and armies - and I d-didn't think of them as *people.*

But the w-w-weapons I developed w-were used against *civilian* t-targets.
N-no... not so m-much. I was a b-bomb-maker. I designed c-c-custom ordinance.

It was a d-dream-job... plus, it was very lucrative.

{{GM}}He rubs his thumb and forefinger together, then snaps.{{/GM}}

Megacorps c-couldn't get e-enough of the devices I invented. I was t-too high on my own e-ego to w-wonder what they w-were up to.
{{GM}}The junkie gives a weary smile.{{/GM}}

Yeah. Yeah, they h-help.

I *n-n-need* them. And they're better than the alternative.
I g-guess that I must be feeling g-g-guilty about the b-bombs, huh?

All of the b-blood on my hands. I can feel it all the t-time. I just like b-bombs, I didn't want anyone to get *h-hurt*...

{{GM}}He clutches his face, sobbing.{{/GM}}
H-how am I ever going to make this g-go away?

How will I *l-live* with myself? The d-drugs help me f-forget, but...

{{GM}}He shakes his head, a look of utter hopelessness on his face.{{/GM}}
Do something to undo the harm you've done. I dunno... use your imagination, man.
Well, you could start by helping some kids, or stealing your bomb schematics back...
For starters, you can stop wallowing in self-pity. That'd probably help.
Give me your nuyen. You'll feel lighter without it.
{{GM}}The junkie sways mutely in place, gnawing on his chapped lower lip. A minute passes before he manages to speak again.{{/GM}}

I w-wouldn't know where to b-begin... Need time to th-think...

{{GM}}His hoarse voice cracks with emotion.{{/GM}}
You could show those megacorps that they can't use you. Plot your revenge!
Children are the future, man. Find a charitable organization and put in some hours, for starters.
If I were you, I'd get the hell out of Heoi. Go someplace calm.
{{GM}}A tight-lipped smile stretches across the man's haggard features as your suggestion registers in his brain.{{/GM}}

I honestly w-wouldn't m-mind using my expertise against th-those bastards. M-might be reason enough to g-get clean...

{{GM}}His sunken eyes seem to sparkle at the thought.{{/GM}}
I'll t-tell you what. I'll th-think about it.

{{GM}}He nods eagerly.{{/GM}}

I'll think real h-hard.
I guess that's the best that I could hope for. Best of luck, Steve.
Thinking about it isn't going to be enough. You need to *do* something.
Th-thanks.
Yeah. Yeah... I w-will.

{{GM}}His face fills up with something you hadn't seen there before. Determination.{{/GM}}

I *will.* I promise.
{{GM}}The man lowers himself into a squat and hugs his knees, his gaze somewhat absent and his cheeks glazed with tears.{{/GM}}

There are a c-couple of shelters where I used to c-crash when I w-was less d-d-down and out than I am n-now... There were lots of f-families. I could h-help out.
{{GM}}The man pauses, licking his lips, his mouth feeling for the right words.{{/GM}}

But in the end I p-probably need to go h-home, to Guizhou - when I c-can bring myself to...
{{GM}}The junkie gives a crooked smile, his eyes a bit misty.{{/GM}}

C-calm, huh? Well, I can't think of anything b-better than heading to the d-desert to b-b-blow things up. I might j-just do that.
Helping k-kids? S-stealing my...

{{GM}}The junkie sways mutely in place, gnawing on his chapped lower lip.{{/GM}}

I w-wouldn't know where to b-begin... Need time to th-think...
{{GM}}The man runs his unsteady hands through his hair repeatedly.{{/GM}}

I c-can't just stop c-c-caring... What I was involved w-with... what I'm still c-complicit in... it's so t-t-terrible...

{{GM}}He seizes two fistfuls of hair and yanks, cursing and muttering.{{/GM}}
You're still doing it - wallowing!
What's done is done. Pulling your hair out over it isn't helping anything.
{{GM}}The junkie relaxes his hands. His matted hair, where he was tugging, sticks out in ugly tufts. He frowns darkly.{{/GM}}

So I'm n-not allowed to f-feel bad anymore? Gonna force me to do a h-happy dance, too?
Nobody wants to see that, man.
You're allowed to feel bad, idiot. But if you want to *stop* feeling bad, you need to *do* something about it.
Look, do you want my help, or not?
{{GM}}The junkie shoots you a dirty look.{{/GM}}

I n-need help, not insults. What the h-hell do I *do?*
{{GM}}He cries out in exasperation.{{/GM}}

Y-YES! Of *course* I d-do! T-tell me what to do!
{{GM}}The junkie relaxes his hands. His matted hair, where he was tugging, sticks out in ugly tufts. Sobs wrack his wasted frame.{{/GM}}

I j-just w-w-wish it were d-different.
Should've, could've. Sheesh.
I'm pretty sure that you could find an alternative if you tried.
There, there. Cry it out.
{{GM}}The junkie's lip trembles angrily.{{/GM}}

I thought y-you were going to h-h-help me!
If you want to get through this, you're gonna have to help yourself. If you feel guilty, do penance, or something.
You don't need help, Steve. You need to help other people. That's the only way you're gonna get over this.
I am, but not for free. Hand over your credstick and we can talk.
P-penance?

{{GM}}He blinks.{{/GM}}

T-tell me what you m-m-mean.
H-how am I supposed to d-do that? I mean, *look* at m-me!
*What* alternatives? I c-can't th-think of anything!
{{GM}}The junkie blubbers and whines. When he finally raises his reddened eyes to you, his gaze is lucid.{{/GM}}

I'm ready to l-listen now.
Thought that might help.
That was quite a show, man.
I feel m-much better.
Okay. If you wanna get through this, you're going to have to take action. No more sitting in a corner with a needle in your arm.
All right. There's only one way down the path to redemption: you have to give me all of your money.
A-action? What action?
{{GM}}The wretched man stares at the ground.{{/GM}}

Yeah, I'm not p-proud.
{{GM}}The junkie crosses his arms.{{/GM}}

Oh yes, let me do that r-right away. That s-sounds like a *great* idea.

You don't want to h-help me. You're just here to make a quick b-buck.
I was kidding, Steve. Look, if you wanna feel less guilty, go help some kids, or something.
I don't really want your money, Stephen. Look, as long as you're in Heoi, people will take advantage of you. Just... get out of here, okay?
Yep, that's about the size of it.
{{GM}}He waves you off.{{/GM}}

L-leave me alone, t-traitor. I never should've trusted you.

I don't wanna t-talk to you any more.
{{GM}}The junkie gives a weary smile.{{/GM}}

Because I *n-need* them.
{{GM}}The junkie indicates the holes in his clothing and the bruises and scars on his body.{{/GM}}

C-can't get any worse. Hand that packet over.
{{GM}}The man chuckles softly.{{/GM}}

It's p-purely circumstantial that I p-picked drugs as my escape. I'd just s-seek out another d-dependency.

So, I m-might as well take Lee's free h-hit. Packet, please.
Makes sense, I guess.
Hey, you can do whatever you want. I'm not here to judge you.
That's bull. But you need to want to quit for yourself.
{{GM}}The junkie's trembling hand shoots out, his fingers curling and uncurling.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The man joins his palms in a beseeching manner.{{/GM}}

I p-promise I'll start c-c-cutting back, starting t-tomorrow. Really!

{{GM}}The junkie's trembling hand shoots out, his fingers curling and uncurling.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The junkie narrows his eyes at you. A hiss escapes his parched lips.{{/GM}}

Why w-would I let you do that? That's Lee's gift to m-me.
To thank me for all the running around. It's the least you could do.
Because another dose of "poison" might have you dreaming forever.
Because it isn't a gift. It's a trick to keep you hooked.
{{GM}}The junkie begins to scratch at his arms absentmindedly as he considers your words.{{/GM}}

My eternal g-gratitude isn't enough?
I prefer material thanks.
Just trying to save you from a wicked habit. I'd sacrifice my health for yours.
{{GM}}The man crosses his arms across his chest, muttering to himself and shaking his head.{{/GM}}

I r-really need that. J-just one h-hit to t-t-tide me over.

{{GM}}The junkie grabs your arm, ready to snatch the packet from your grasp.{{/GM}}
Oh, very kind of you, but no need.

{{GM}}The junkie extends a hand eagerly.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The junkie shudders. His wide, staring eyes gaze into nothingness, and his jaw clenches.{{/GM}}

The drugs d-didn't *cause* the n-nightmares. I acknowledge that.

But I'd d-do anything t-to avoid the nightmares. Do d-drugs m-make it w-w-worse?
Probably.
Experimental drugs are probably just a bad idea in general.
I dunno, Steve. Decide quick here - I got places to be.
{{GM}}The junkie draws himself up a little straighter.{{/GM}}

Then k-keep the p-packet for yourself, as my thanks to y-you.
I will. Now let's talk about these dreams of yours.
{{GM}}The junkie rolls his eyes.{{/GM}}

Heard that one b-before. Don't c-care much for p-preaching.

Packet, please.
{{GM}}The junkie rolls his eyes and sighs. He points to the packet in your hand.{{/GM}}

G-give it over, then.
{{GM}}The man snorts and lifts his chin high.{{/GM}}

It's n-not a trick. I know exactly w-what Lee's offering. I'm not s-stupid.
Just a friendly warning, is all.
Go ahead, if you know what you're doing.
Could've fooled me. If you're thinking of taking it, you *are* stupid.
{{GM}}The man licks his lips and eyes the packet, but he doesn't reach for it.{{/GM}}

D-do you think that'll m-make the n-n-nightmares worse?
{{GM}}A wild look flickers in Stephen's eyes. He bares his teeth and snarls.{{/GM}}

You j-just want to k-keep it for y-y-yourself! C-can't trust anybody here. Give me my present!

{{GM}}The junkie grabs your arm, ready to snatch the packet from your grasp.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Fat tears begin to cascade down his dirty, ruined face.{{/GM}}

I d-don't want to sleep because of these n-nightmares. I'm ravenous, so ravenous, but food makes me ill. I've got the s-shakes real bad, too.

I just want this to end.
{{GM}}The man frowns, eyes confused and fearful.{{/GM}}

S-sorry, man, s-s-sorry. I was j-just afraid. I'm not d-d-doing so well. C-can't trust anyone.
A disheveled man in filthy rags teeters on the sidewalk, wobbling on unsteady legs. His bloodshot eyes dart about desperately, and the acrid-sweet odor that wafts off of him buzzes unpleasantly in your nostrils.
{{GM}}Try to slip by him and continue on your way.{{/GM}}
You okay, man?
{{GM}}Back away.{{/GM}}
As you attempt to slip by, his arm shoots out to grab you. His fingers dig into you with a grip hard as steel.

The stink of human misery fills your nostrils.
You h-have to help me, m-man!

{{GM}}His teeth grind as his grip tightens. His hand feels like a vise.{{/GM}}

I n-n-need your h-help!
{{CC}}Strength: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Hard){{/CC}} {{GM}}Break his grip.{{/GM}}
Let go of me! You smell like rotten cabbage!
I don't have to do anything. Now step back, or you're gonna regret it.
Say the magic word first.
The man is thrown to his knees on the pavement. His mouth forms a comical "O."

He looks up at you, and a crooked smile cracks his ruined face. He makes an unsteady bow in your general direction.
I c-could use someone like you. I'd make it w-worth your w-while.

{{GM}}He peers up at you, eyes wide with expectation.{{/GM}}
Worth my while, huh? I'm listening.
How much money could a wreck like you possibly have?
That's very flattering, but I've got places to go. People to see.
The man gets back on his feet with some difficulty and leans in to you to speak.

Glancing closer, you see that his tattered clothing bears designer logos.
{{GM}}He mutters in low, urgent tones.{{/GM}}

I want you to t-take a m-message from me to Handsome Lee.
{{GM}}Shaking slightly, the man stands, straightens - to the extent that he can - and places a hand on his heart.{{/GM}}

Oh, d-don't let my appearance f-fool you.

{{GM}}The corner of his mouth curls bitterly.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}He leans in to speak, and as he does so, you glance down and notice that his tattered clothing bears designer logos.{{/GM}}

I want you to t-take a m-message from me to Handsome Lee.
{{GM}}The man stands gingerly and raises a trembling hand to prevent your departure.{{/GM}}

N-naturally someone of your importance is m-much in d-demand. But my request is very s-simple.
{{GM}}He leans in to speak, and as he does so, you glance down and notice that his tattered clothing bears designer logos.{{/GM}}

I want you to t-take a m-message from me to Handsome Lee.
{{GM}}The man attempts a winning grin, revealing a mouthful of rotting teeth.{{/GM}}

A trivial t-task for someone l-like y-you, who g-gets around, knows everyone...
{{GM}}The man ignores you. He stumbles, pulls himself up using you as a support. Under the layers of filth and grime you can see designer logos on his tattered clothing.{{/GM}}

You need to get a m-m-message from me to Handsome Lee.
Yeah, I've met him. But who the hell are you?
{{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} Handsome Lee? Riiiight... yeah, I know the guy. And who should I say is asking for him?
Never heard of him. Now who are you, and why are you touching me?
I'm Stephen! Stephen Dynamite!

{{GM}}He nods eagerly, desperation in his eyes. A sluggish tongue wipes itself over the cracked skin of his lips.{{/GM}}
Look, you've gotta h-help me. I've been *p-poisoned.* That crap that Lee sold me put bad th-th-things in my h-head!

Whenever I close my eyes, I see... dark, narrow tunnels, so many... hands g-grabbing... razor-sharp teeth gnawing... and the c-children!
Poisoned? Sure it's not just a bad trip?
Bad things in your head? Are you talking about hallucinations?
What makes you think that any of this is my problem?
{{GM}}The man gives a hollow laugh.{{/GM}}

I know my w-way around substances well enough t-to know a bad trip when I have one. This is *s-something else.*
All right, all right, I'll do what I can.
I'm not a charity. If you want my help, you've gotta pay for it.
Then tell Lee what he's done to me. That I need *r-relief.*

T-tell him that I w-want...

{{GM}}His sentence trails off.{{/GM}}
What *do* you want?
You've been a little vague about that, Steve. Need something in particular?
...I w-want my m-money back.

{{GM}}His reedy voice wavers, but he stops and says no more.{{/GM}}
You're paying me money to get your money back?
Poisoned. Nightmares. Money back. Got it. Anything else?
{{GM}}His voice lowers to a mumble.{{/GM}}

It's the pr-principle of the thing.

J-just do it, okay? And p-please come back when you're done.
Just please c-come back. And please... h-hurry.
{{GM}}The junkie stares into space. A faint trickle of saliva makes it way down his chin.{{/GM}}

N-no... not exactly. More like n-nightmares. They feel very real. T-teeth b-b-biting. F-f-faces, f-f-f-faces I knew...

{{GM}}His trembling voice trails off.{{/GM}}
Y'know, the whole "nightmare" thing has been going around. It isn't just you.
All right, calm down. I'll do what I can.
I do nothing without getting paid.
No! This isn't that! I'm telling you, I was *poisoned!* I *know* it!

You'll help me, won't you?
{{GM}}Stephen Dynamite shoots you a sideways glance. His voice drops to a rough whisper.{{/GM}}

I can pay you. I... I have m-means.
Well, then, why didn't you say so? Pay up!
You're a man of means, you say? How much you got?
Honestly, you look like you've pumped all of your nuyen into your veins already.
The junkie reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out a grimy credstick.

As he presses it into your hand, he fixes his bloodshot eyes on yours. His desperation is almost palpable.
Tell Lee what he's done to me. T-tell him that I need *relief.* These dreams, they're so...

Tell him that I w-want...

{{GM}}His voice trails off.{{/GM}}
Plenty.

{{GM}}His eyes take on a glassy quality.{{/GM}}

They still pay me, you know. For *what I d-did.*
What did you do?
I don't care what you did. But you know that fee you were paying me? Double it.
{{GM}}The junkie starts to scratch his neck and face. His eyes roll wildly.{{/GM}}

I u-used to invent things. T-terrible things.
Yeah? What kind of things?
...And? Don't leave me hanging, Steve.
Feeling a bit guilty?
{{GM}}The man's voice growls.{{/GM}}

Bombs. The most p-potent explosives.

I s-sold them. Didn't c-care to whom... at least, not b-back then.
Most bomb-makers don't. Ignorance is bliss, and all that.
Doesn't sound like a great line of work for a man with a conscience.
Hey, I usually don't know who I'm really working for either. Don't think that anyone in the shadows does.
{{GM}}A taut smile stretches across the junkie's features.{{/GM}}

Too l-late. I know everything that h-h-happened.

R-regrettably.
All right, Stephen. I'll take your message to Lee, no cost.
Just pay me and I'll help you out.
Y'know, bomb-makers usually make fat stacks of nuyen. I think I'm gonna charge you double.
{{GM}}A taut smile stretches across the junkie's features.{{/GM}}

It i-isn't.
{{GM}}A taut smile stretches across the junkie's features.{{/GM}}

Th-that doesn't m-make it r-right.
{{GM}}The man's voice growls.{{/GM}}

I built b-b-bombs. The most p-potent explosives.

I s-sold them. Didn't c-care to whom.
{{GM}}The junkie just stands there, mute.{{/GM}}
You've obviously got problems. I'll take your message to Lee, no cost.
This is going nowhere. Just pay me my courier fee and I'll deliver your message.
Well, it's going to cost you double for me to run messages for you, Moneybags.
{{GM}}A frown darkens the man's face.{{/GM}}

Take your money, then. It's all stained in b-blood.
The junkie thrusts his hand into his breast pocket and produces a grimy credstick.

As he grinds the stick into your hand, he fixes his bloodshot eyes on yours. His desperation is almost palpable.
{{GM}}Stephen Dynamite holds himself a little straighter and lifts his chin high.{{/GM}}

I don't d-deny my problems. B-but I d-do have money.

I've done w-worse than you'll ever do, shadowrunner. And they still p-pay me for it.
{{GM}}The man's grip tightens further. He pulls you in closer, and you notice that his tattered clothing bears designer logos.{{/GM}}

It'll be w-worth your while. Just t-talk to Handsome Lee for me.
{{GM}}The man yanks you closer. Your eyes are watering from his pungent proximity. Still, you notice that his tattered clothing bears designer logos.{{/GM}}

Please! Please! Take Handsome Lee a m-message from me!
As you begin to step back, his arm shoots out to grab you. His fingers dig in with a grip hard as steel.

The stink of human misery fills your nostrils.
Man, I don't feel so good.
A basic attack that bounces to the next target.
Powerbolt I
Fray Armor
A two-hit combo with the hand-razors. Each hit strips 1 Armor from the target.
Smaller than most assault rifles, yet just as deadly.
Spell Focus: Life Siphon I
An initiate-level blood magic, practiced by the mages of Aztlan. If target is damaged by this spell, caster gains 4 HP per RND for 2 RNDs. Pierces up to 2 Armor.
Secure Long Coat
A heavy coat with protective lining. Good protection without restrictive armored plates. Grants +1 Ranged Combat and +5 HP.
Deathless
Activates when a drone receives critical damage, initiates an emergency self repair.
Drone Auto Repair
Vision Magnification System
Enhanced drone optics for increased target acquisition. Passive: +5% to hit.
This locker is large and sturdy and protected by a simple keypad.
{{GM}}Enter code.{{/GM}}
2627
The locker opens with a faint click. Inside are shrink-wrapped Tsang maintenance uniforms.
{{GM}}Put on a uniform.{{/GM}}
An elderly decker with a nickel-plated datajack turns to face you, smiling.
Ain't this a hell of a thing? Lovely show, lovely show.

{{GM}}He nods eagerly, rubbing his hands.{{/GM}}

Lots and lots of shiny toys.
{{GM}}Extend your hand.{{/GM}} $(s.name). And you are...?
Where'd you get your handle from? "Turtle" is a funny name for a decker.
Are you here to see anything in specific?
Yeah, it's pretty great. Look, I'm just passing by... enjoy the show.
Gotta keep moving, Turtle. Enjoy the show.
{{GM}}He grabs your proffered hand and shakes it vigorously.{{/GM}}

Call me Turtle. Been going to DeckCon for damn near twenty years now, and it's never looked half as nice as it does now.
Really?
It looks like it's gotten pretty commercial to me.
Yeah, this is pretty swank for a computer convention. When did they start catering these things?
Yeah. The show's really gotten big in the past couple of years.

{{GM}}He gestures at the Fairlight booth off in the distance.{{/GM}}

Lotsa *corporate* money flowing into this thing these days.
{{GM}}The old decker lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.{{/GM}}

I've heard that the guy who first organized the show sold out to some big promoter, took home a six-digit paycheck.
Lotsa young guys have been bitching and moaning all over Shadowland about that, but not me. I've been around long enough to know the score.

Someone offers you that kind of money, you *take* it.
You're not wrong there.

{{GM}}He gestures at the Fairlight booth off in the distance.{{/GM}}

Lotsa *corporate* money flowing into this thing these days.
This is the first year they've done it. Wasn't nobody handing out bowls of clams back in '36, I'll tell you that much.

'Course, they still have the automated food court over yonder, and people are still lining up for it. Suppose I can't blame 'em... it's a DeckCon tradition.
An old, *old* piece of software. Somethin' that went obsolete well before your time.

{{GM}}He grins.{{/GM}}

I guess I'm showin' my age. But something about that little cluster of pixels always made me happy.
Got my eyes on a couple of things this year. I'm gonna check out the Fairlight booth, of course... and Fuchi's doing some interesting things with miniaturization.
{{GM}}He shakes his head ruefully.{{/GM}}

Y'know, when I was just gettin' started, it would've taken an entire warehouse full of machines to match the computing power of the PDA on your wrist. No, scratch that - they wouldn't've come close.
{{CC}}Decking: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Easy){{/CC}} Yeah, well, Moore's Law hasn't been proven wrong yet...
Technology's come a long way.
No. No, that it hasn't.

{{GM}}His smile widens.{{/GM}}

Y'know, I've decided that I like you. Ain't many deckers that'll take the time to chat with an old dwarf on the show floor these days.
Anyway. I've taken up plenty of your time already - I'm sure that you've got exhibits to see. Unless you wanted something else...?
Sure has.

{{GM}}He shakes his head, grinning.{{/GM}}

Sure has.
{{GM}}He waves to you.{{/GM}}

Bye, then!
Hello again! Somethin' I can do for you?
Cast Fireball
Exploding fireball.
The generator rests unguarded before you. A shock to the system could compromise the computer mainframe it powers.
{{CC}}Drone Control: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Easy){{/CC}} {{GM}}Waste it.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Use a passcode to overload the generator.{{/GM}}
Enter Access Code:
8484
Passcode confirmed. System access now granted.

Choose Action:
{{GM}}Overload the power settings.{{/GM}}
Go back.
Exit.
Rock Skin III
Target gains +5 Armor, up to the maximum Armor of 10. Lasts until combat ends.
You've been walking for what feels like hours, picking your way through the claustrophobic alleys of the inner Walled City. It feels like you're traversing a war zone.

Dead bodies litter the gutters. Some have been gutted by gunfire; others have suffered stranger and more terrible wounds. The rattle of distant automatic weapons fire rings in your ears, intermingling with faint screams of agony and terror.
Gets better and better, doesn't it?
I'm not a fan, either, but it's too late to turn back.
We've got a job to do. We keep moving forward.
We have a chance to fix this - or, at least, to keep it from getting worse.
Raymond's gonna be waiting for us at the end of this. We have to meet him.
Look on the bright side! After we get through all of this, we get to fight a Yama King!
Right. We have to keep moving.

After all, we can't keep the malevolent demon-god waiting.
Ahead, you can see a cluster of Tsang security personnel. They look to be embroiled in some sort of argument; if they notice you at all, they don't show it.
{{GM}}Watch and wait.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}As you watch, one of the officers loses his cool. Starts shouting.{{/GM}}

She's *here* for us! I've seen her in my *dreams!*
*What* is here? I don't know what you're talking about, damn it!
The security officer lurches toward his partner, his eyes bulging. His body language makes you think of a wounded animal: panicked, terrified, ready to lash out at anything within reach.

He shakes his head like a wet dog and focuses on the woman beside him.
I know how to keep us safe. I saw how to do it.

{{GM}}He reaches for an object that's clipped to his belt.{{/GM}}

Open your mouth.
You're crazy, man. Keep away from me - I mean it!

{{GM}}She backpedals, reaching for her weapon, and shouts at a third guard.{{/GM}}

Get backup! Hu has gone insane!
Without a word, the third Tsang guard takes off running.

As if on cue, the deranged security officer takes another step forward.
This is for the best, Yang. Trust me. I'll do you first, and then I'll do me.

{{GM}}Light shines on black iron. He holds a multi-tool clenched in his hand. You can see that he's configured it into a set of pliers.{{/GM}}

By the time I'm done, she won't be able to hurt us any more!
With a flurry of motion, the man with the pliers lunges at his companion. She drops into a fighting stance and meets him head-on.
We'll press on, of course. It is what we are here for.
We're all on the same page, $(l.name). Whether we want to be or not.
I am with you, of course. I will not be satisfied until I have tested my steel against Qian Ya herself.
{{GM}}Gaichu fall in line beside you, wincing.{{/GM}}

With every step we take, the astral pollution of this place grows stronger.

A difficult road to walk, even for me.
I've never been this deep inside the Walled City before.

Rat doesn't even wanna come in here to guide me.
This is even worse than it was when I was a kid.

{{GM}}She squeezes her eyes shut.{{/GM}}

I want to go home.
This is... distasteful. So much unnecessary, purposeless torment.

If these people are to suffer, it should be for some tangible societal gain.
Cast Flamethrower
Direct fire attack
Monofilament Whip
Uses Ranged Combat for accuracy and Cyber Affinity for critical chance. DMG: 14. Damage does not scale with strength. Causes 2-3 bleeding DMG. Does no AP damage. Range is up to 7 tiles.
Bleeding: HP -1 per RND
Blaster 1.0
An area-effect Matrix attack that deals -50 IP DMG to IC and deckers.
Bound Nature Spirit
Triad Thug
Gaichu's Armor
Jazz
Combat stim that adds +2 Quickness and +1 AP for 5 RNDS.
Jazz: Quickness +2, AP +1
Single Target. One bullet. Increases accuracy by 15%. Shares a cooldown with other Aim attack abilities.
Smoke Grenade
Creates smoke that reduces to hit by 15%. Lasts for 3 RNDS.
Heckler & Koch HK227 (Smartlink)
SMG: The high-end submachine gun that serves both security and shadowrunners, with an integral Smartlink.
The group on the dock was fishing a package out of a speedboat when you surprised them. Now the package is at the bottom of the bay, and the speedboat is disappearing into the distance.

They close on you, red-faced and yelling. The light of the harbor glints off of their weapons as they approach.		 Le groupe sur le quai récupérait un paquet sur un hors-bord lorsque vous les avez surpris. Le paquet est maintenant au fond de la baie, et la vedette est en train de disparaître dans le lointain.

Ils se rapprochent de vous, rougeaud et hurlant. La lumière du port se reflète sur les armes qu'ils portent.
The leader shouts something in Cantonese, but it's too fast to make out. You’re rusty… it’s been years since Raymond’s house and the language lesson that wouldn’t end. The old man never spoke anything but his native language at home. Le chef crie quelque chose en Cantonais, mais trop rapidement pour que vous le saisissiez. Vous êtes rouillé... Cela fait des années depuis les leçons de Cantonais interminable dans la maison de Raymond. Le vieil homme ne parlait jamais une autre langue que sa langue maternelle chez lui.
{{GM}}Wu speaks with authority. His Cantonese is as solid as ever - he never let it drop.{{/GM}}

You guys doing some late-night fishing?		 {{GM}}Wu parle avec autorité. Son Cantonais est plus fluide que jamais - il n'a jamais laissé tombé.{{/GM}}

Vous faites une partie de pêche nocturne, les gars?
{{GM}}The smuggler smiles.{{/GM}}

Oh, yeah. We're fishing for assholes. 		{{GM}}Le trafiquant sourit.{{/GM}}

Oh, ouais. Nous pêchons les connards.
{{GM}}Wu points at their weapons.{{/GM}}

You're gonna need some better bait. All you're gonna catch with that is trouble.		 {{GM}}Wu indique leurs armes.{{/GM}}

Vous devriez changer d'appâts. Tout ce que vous allez attraper avec ça c'est des ennuis.
{{GM}}Whisper to Duncan.{{/GM}} Seriously? Did they teach you that in rent-a-cop school? {{GM}}Chuchotant à Duncan.{{/GM}} Sérieusement? C'est ce qu'ils t'ont appris à l'école des flics-à-louer?
{{GM}}Try out your Cantonese.{{/GM}} We're just passing through. Why don't you put the guns away? {{GM}}Testant votre Cantonais.{{/GM}} Nous ne faisons que passer. Pourquoi ne pas braquer vos flingues autre part?
{{GM}}Shout in Cantonese.{{/GM}} Lone Star! Lay down your weapons! {{GM}}Criant en Cantonais.{{/GM}} Lone Star! Déposer vos armes!
He turns to you with a smile starting on his face. Then he thinks better of it. Turns back to the smugglers. Il se retourne vers vous un sourire se dessinant sur le visage. Puis il se ravise, réfléchissant. Il se tourne vers les trafiquants.
{{GM}}Their spokesman laughs, looks at his crew.{{/GM}}

Hey, you talk good Cantonese, baby. Real authentic.		 {{GM}}Le porte-parole rit, et se penche vers sa bande.{{/GM}}

Hey, tu parles bien Cantonais, bébé. Vraiment authentique.
{{GM}}He keeps laughing.{{/GM}}

Actually, you just told me you're gonna crap a gun.		 {{GM}}Il continue en riant.{{/GM}}

En fait, tu vient de me dire que tu vas "merde un pistolet".
{{GM}}Wu flashes his badge.{{/GM}}

Lone Star. Put the guns down.		 {{GM}}Wu dégaine son insigne.{{/GM}}

Lone Star. Déposer ces armes.
{{GM}}The smuggler squints at Wu's badge, then smiles at his friends.{{/GM}}

Never seen a badge like that before. Either it's fake, or you're some kind of security guard.

{{GM}}He grasps his rifle.{{/GM}}

Either way, this ends the same.		 {{GM}}Le trafiquant jette un œil à l'insigne de Wu, puis sourit à ses amis.{{/GM}}

Jamais vu une insigne comme ça avant. C'est un faux, ou vous êtes une sorte de gardien de sécurité.

{{GM}}Il saisit son fusil.{{/GM}}

Dans tous les cas, ca se termine de la même façon.
{{GM}}He keeps laughing.{{/GM}}

Actually, you just told me to screw my light bulb.		 {{GM}}Il continue à sourire.{{/GM}}

En fait, tu viens de me dire de "visser mon ampoule".
So something tells me you're not a cop. Or you're a cop from the UCAS, and you got no jurisdiction here.

{{GM}}He grasps his rifle.{{/GM}}

Either way, this ends the same.		 Quelque chose me dit que vous n'êtes pas des flics. Ou vous êtes des flics de l'UCAS, et vous n'êtes pas dans votre juridiction ici.

{{GM}}Il saisit son fusil.{{/GM}}

Dans tous les cas, ça se termine de la même façon.
I think he's done talking. Je pense qu'on a fini de parler.
Pacify I
Target ignores all enemies. Lasts 1 RNDS.
Pacified: Ignores All Enemies
Rock Skin I
Target gains +2 Armor, up to the maximum Armor of 10. Lasts until combat ends.
DogStim
CombatStim targets.
JoltAlert
Stimulates the nervous system to jolt a stunned user awake. Passive: If the user is stunned, they will automatically be jolted back to consciousness with 1 AP.
This is a stand-in conversation for matrix options.
Fake maintenance request - EASY
Pre-enable Elevator Emergency Overrides - HARD
Shut down Gas Valve 1
Shut down Gas Valve 2
Shut down Gas Valve 3
Disconnect.
Alley Mage Outfit
Mageware for those that live on the streets.
We had a deal. I expect to see it fulfilled.
Deal's off.
Maybe. Maybe not.
{{GM}}Give him the data and nuyen.{{/GM}} Here. It's yours.
{{GM}}His expression shifts into a grimace. He peers at you with malice behind his eyes.{{/GM}}

You step out that door, and I assure you... you'll never make it out of this building alive.
See ya.
Excellent. A pleasure doing business with you.
Enfield AS-7
Shotgun: An assault shotgun that has a burst fire option.
Rock Skin II
Target gains +3 Armor, up to the maximum Armor of 10. Lasts until combat ends
Spell Focus: Life Siphon II
An initiate-level blood magic, practiced by the mages of Aztlan. If target is damaged by this spell, caster gains 6 HP per RND for 2 RNDs. Pierces up to 4 Armor.
Flamethrower III
IC Charger
Charges IC
CHARGING...
Testing Average Deck
Testing Deck. OP.
Suprathyroid (Bioware)
An artificial gland that supercedes the thyroid's metabolic functions, optimizing anabolism and catabolism to supercharge the user. Passive: +1 to all physical attributes.
SAMURAI HEAVY
Placeholder Combat Armor 8
Toxin Exhaler (Bioware)
Implants a genetically tailored toxin sac above the larynx. When triggered, grants a close-range poison attack. DMG: 10, 4 ongoing. Lasts 2 RNDs. Cost: 1 AP. Cooldown: 2.
Toxin: HP -4 per RND
Street Monk Outfit
The ultimate adept outfit for the ultimate adept. Grants +1 Movement, +1 Unarmed Combat, and +1 Dodge.
Security Station Card for level 26: Sales
A bright red card with a large black "26" printed on it.
Ranger Arms SM-3 (Smartlink)
Rifle: Extremely powerful, with a variable-magnification scope. Includes an integral Smartlink system. Pierces up to 1 Armor.
Flamethrower II
Remington 990
Shotgun: A shotgun seemingly made for shadowrunners.
{{GM}}An imposing troll stands in front of a stall overflowing with weapons of all sorts. Pistols, rifles, and even brass knuckles overflow onto the rug around him.{{/GM}}

Ho there. You look like a $(l.man) who understands the value of self-defense. Breaker Hui, at your service - and I can promise you I can help you defend yourself.

What do you say? Want to take a look?
Show me what you have.
I'm more interested in information.
Not tonight, thanks.
Hello again. How can I help you?
I'm looking for information.
Nothing right now, thanks.
Yeah? Tell me what you want, maybe I can help you out.
What are your impressions of the Whampoan Elders?
You know anything about Elder Magpie?
Aside from Tong, who slings the BTLs around here?
Just that Elders have been getting hacked apart. I've tried to stay away from it all. No sense painting the crosshairs on my own forehead, right?

{{GM}}The troll shrugs indifferently.{{/GM}}

I'm nobody important, and I aim to keep it that way.
Can't say I associate much with them. They organize big trade deals with the Loho-Jowah pirates, the triads, and legitimate businesses. They tell us if somebody's been blacklisted, and dispense justice when someone breaks the rules.

Beyond that, they leave us alone, and I leave them alone. I'm just not important enough to register on their radar.
Never met her, thank god. She ran with the deckers, mostly, since she dealt in chips and software. I heard she was hard to work with. I think the phrase I overheard was that she "shrieked like a harpy with a fresh corpse."

I dunno. You should ask Zippy, though. He's a sharp one with a deck, so he'd know her better than most.
The Red Spear gang. They run up in here sometimes, but don't cause any trouble. Check out the parking garage south of here, though. They usually hole up in there.

Step light, though: if they don't know you and you cop an attitude, they'll put you in the ground.
Funny thing: I heard there was a shootout with some Hong Kong police in the garage a month ago. I was away in Beijing at the time, so I didn't see it directly... But everybody was talking about it when I got back.
Why's that funny?
Because we don't let the HKPF in here, most times. We shoot at 'em if they try. Every time they come in here, it's bad for us, because they're always looking for a scapegoat.

Why would the elders let them in? Nobody knows.
Slash
The basic melee weapon attack. Adds +1 HP DMG over the weapon's base DMG.
You can feel every eye in the room as you cross the mahjong parlor to the middle-aged woman sitting patiently at its end. The click-clack of ivory colored tiles stops. Hands stray beneath tables, into jacket pockets, behind backs.
The woman has the face of a prison guard and the demeanor of an inmate. Her salt-and-pepper hair is pulled into an iron-hard bun and beneath it, two shiny black eyes offer nothing. Buttons sewn on a doll.
A nearly empty bottle of something foul rests on her mahjong table, nestled between a pair of dirty shot glasses. Tiny puddles of brown linger at their bottoms.
Gobbet and Is0bel stand on the other side of the table - heads lowered, shoulders slumped, hands clasped. They risk a frightened glance at you as you approach.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng's voice is nasal and rusty-mean.{{/GM}}

My little pair of fuck-ups here told me all about what happened on the docks.
{{GM}}She dips a pinkie into a shot glass, brings it to her mouth. Removes it with a sharp smack.{{/GM}}

How two of my best runners had their heads put out.
How you need protection. And how you need to get your identities wiped before you get *your* heads put out too.
Potentially leading the heat to my front door. Placing me and everyone in my employ in danger.

{{GM}}She fingers the rim of her glass.{{/GM}}

So wise. So very, very wise.
{{GM}}The young shaman's eyes never leave the floor.{{/GM}}

We're sorry, Auntie. We thought--
{{GM}}Her black eyes flash.{{/GM}}

You mustn't speak until you are spoken to, Gobbet dear.
{{GM}}The smile turns mean.{{/GM}}

And since you are one *short-hair* away from being dumped in the river chained to Is0bel's corpse, I suggest you let your new friends here do the talking for a while.
Does that make sense to you, dear?

{{GM}}Her treacle-voice is back - sweet, nasal, and grinding.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Dark circles ring Gobbet's armpits.{{/GM}}

Yes, Auntie.
{{GM}}Cheng inclines her head gently.{{/GM}}

Very good. You learn so quickly.
Gobbet kept a very cool head in a tense situation. She's the one who led us out of the police ambush.
Gobbet's eyes dart from you to the triad boss and back again. A thin trickle of perspiration slides from beneath the ropes of her hair.
Kindly Cheng slowly turns, directs her attention to you.
{{GM}}Her voice remains cloyingly sweet.{{/GM}}

I count little Gobbet here among my most resourceful runners but I admit, it's good to have... outside validation from time to time.
The look of gratitude from the young rat shaman is deeply sincere and exceedingly brief.
{{GM}}Kindly's chin lowers and her nostrils flare.{{/GM}}

And now that you've shared that valuable little tidbit, perhaps you would be so kind as to keep your fucking mouth *shut* until you are spoken to.
{{GM}}Her voice sweetens again.{{/GM}}

Can you do that for me?
{{GM}}Nod yes.{{/GM}}
Yes, Auntie.
Yes ma'am.
{{GM}}She smiles with her mouth. Her eyes remain cold.{{/GM}}

I do appreciate it, dear.
Ah, a show of respect!

{{GM}}She smiles with her mouth. Her eyes remain glassy cold.{{/GM}}

Good boy.
Ah, a show of respect!

{{GM}}She smiles with her mouth. Her eyes remain glassy cold.{{/GM}}

Good girl.
{{GM}}She smiles with her mouth. Her eyes remain glassy cold.{{/GM}}

Good boy.
{{GM}}She smiles with her mouth. Her eyes remain glassy cold.{{/GM}}

Good girl.
{{GM}}She pours another drink. Her cheeks are rosy - already flushed.{{/GM}}

Now my darlings, I understand from little Rat-shit here that you came from Seattle to meet with my client, Mr. Black.
Wu's jaw tightens at the word "client."
But before you could find him, the HKPF started splattering gray matter everywhere and everything went to shit.
And now you need your SINs burned so you can disappear before you end up dead too. Is that right?
Is that possible?
Can you help us?
{{GM}}She smiles.{{/GM}}

It's 2056. All things are possible.

Why don't we start with you telling me who you are?
My name is $(s.lastname).
Call me $(s.name).
And have you got a first name, $(l.lastname)? A profession?

I mean, you do want me to erase your identities, don't you, dear?

I'll need to know who you are first.
$(s.firstname). I'm a decker.
$(s.firstname). I'm a rigger.
$(s.firstname). I'm a mage, of the hermetic variety.
$(s.firstname). I'm a shaman.
$(s.firstname). I'm a close-combat specialist - the magical kind.
$(s.firstname). I guess that you'd call me as a street samurai.
$(s.firstname). I do what needs doing.
{{GM}}She rests her chin on a liver-spotted hand.{{/GM}}

Ah, like little Is0bel here! I can't imagine traveling the Matrix. And how did you become a decker, $(s.firstname).
{{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} I was military. Then I wasn't.
{{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} A corp trained me. I was a wage-slave for awhile. Learned a trade.
{{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} Private security - I spent a little time with Knight Errant.
Picked it up young. I've been in the cooler for a few.
Let's just say I'm self-taught and leave it at that.
{{GM}}Wu lets out a grunt and shakes his head.{{/GM}}

Nice.
{{GM}}Wu's brow furrows and he shakes his head.{{/GM}}

Nice. Raymond would have loved that.
{{GM}}Wu lets out a grunt.{{/GM}}

You don't vibe cop.
{{GM}}Wu's brow furrows and he shakes his head.{{/GM}}

Still can't believe it.
{{GM}}Wu lets out a grunt.{{/GM}}

Better leave it at that.
Kindly Cheng whips her head towards Wu, a nasty retort already on her lips. But then she stops. Sticks out her lower lip as she sizes him up. She turns to her lieutenant standing behind her, nodding her approval.
Looks like the gun show is in town. What's your name, Gun Show?
{{GM}}Wu's focus remains straight ahead.{{/GM}}

Duncan Wu. I'm a cop. Lone Star.
I hear there were some fresh corpses found on the docks tonight. Smugglers, I believe. Didn't sound like the Hong Kong police when I heard about it.

Your doing, Duncan Wu?
{{GM}}Wu's eyes remain fixed on a spot on the wall behind her. He smolders.{{/GM}}

I identified myself as Lone Star but they wouldn't stand down. They had weapons.

It was self-defense.
{{GM}}She puckers her lips at him, her voice sing-song.{{/GM}}

I don't care, sweetie. They weren't *my* people.
But now I know you're a lifetaker, Mr. Gun Show.

You and your friend here.
{{GM}}She begins arranging mahjong tiles on the table in front of her.{{/GM}}

But now I'm curious - why were you meeting Raymond Black on the docks tonight?
Raymond Black is our foster-father.
He's a friend. Said he needed our help.
Just out for a stroll. It was a beautiful night.
{{GM}}Cheng's black eyes flash.{{/GM}}

Really.

You have a lot of sixty-five-year-old friends who you'll fly around the world to help?
Kindly Cheng's face turns stony and she wraps her fist around the neck of her liquor bottle. The mahjong parlor becomes cemetery quiet.

Gobbet and Is0bel risk a glance at you, their eyes wide with concern.

Wu interjects.
He raised us.

Raymond Black is our foster-father.
{{GM}}That makes her pause. Cheng lifts her bottle of swill and eyes the label, connecting the dots in her own head.{{/GM}}

Interesting.
{{GM}}A look of disgust passes over her face.{{/GM}}

Sorry kids, but he was looking like shit when I saw him - eyes half open, dark circles around them, dragging his feet - the whole bit.

{{GM}}She tsks in displeasure.{{/GM}}

Your foster-daddy was in a bad place.
You think it was drugs?
Tell us everything you know about him.
Sounds like he wasn't sleeping.
{{GM}}You can hear Wu's teeth grind.{{/GM}}

Raymond didn't *do* drugs, $(l.firstname).
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng wags a finger in agreement.{{/GM}}

Of course not. Nobody's daddy does drugs, Gun Show. They all have herb gardens and read poetry books to relax after a hard day at the office.
{{GM}}She shrugs and inclines her head towards you.{{/GM}}

Who knows $(l.lastname)? It could have been drugs but he was lucid most of the time.

Still, if Mr. Black was on something, it was definitely some sort of hallucinogen.
Kindly Cheng rests her eyes on you for a long time. You can feel the room filling with uncertainty and anticipation.
{{GM}}Gobbet tries to get the triad boss's attention off of you.{{/GM}}

Listen Auntie, this foreigner doesn't--
{{GM}}The triad boss ignores her.{{/GM}}

Perhaps you misunderstand our relationship $(l.honorific) $(l.lastname).

You don't interview me, I interview you. But, I will indulge this one question, since poor Duncan Wu here looks so worried.
{{GM}}The triad boss speaks patiently, as if to a child.{{/GM}}

Perhaps you misunderstand our relationship $(l.honorific) $(l.lastname).

You don't interview me, I interview you. But, I will indulge this one question, since poor Duncan Wu here looks so worried.
{{GM}}She eyes you for another moment and then continues.{{/GM}}

From what he said, it sounded like he was having nightmares.

He would stop in the middle of a sentence and mutter something to himself. One time it was about the walls breathing or something. Another time it was about teeth. Thousands of teeth.
Could be. From what he said, it sounded like he was having nightmares.

He would stop in the middle of a sentence and mutter something to himself. One time it was about the walls breathing or something. Another time it was about teeth. Thousands of teeth.
I remember him drifting off near the end of our meeting. It looked like he was off somewhere else in his head.

He said, "I left prosperity in there."

Then Nightjar put his hand on Mr. Black's shoulder. Asked him why he wanted to go into the Walled City so badly. That seemed to bring him back.
When your old man opened his eyes they were full of tears.

Then he muttered something else I couldn't make out.
{{GM}}She pours herself another shot, tosses it back and rubs her belly.{{/GM}}

Your daddy got really irritating after a while.
What do you think it means?
I can imagine.
How do you leave prosperity? Do you think Prosperity could be a person?
I have no fucking clue.
{{GM}}She grabs a long, slim cigar from a pack on the mahjong table. Lights it.{{/GM}}

All right, let's get to it.
{{GM}}She exhales smoke and points two fingers at you and Wu.{{/GM}}

You two need your SINs burned and you need them burned *fast.*

Hong Kong dragnets are bad news. When they roll, they roll in force. Armored personnel carriers, heavy armor, heavy weapons, sorcerers - the whole thing. And they *aren't* coming to arrest you.
{{GM}}She folds her arms across her chest. The thin cigar bobs in her mouth as she speaks.{{/GM}}

The good news is, I can help you. With a wave of my hand, I can have your SINs disappear.

But you need to understand, my darlings, is that what you're asking for is not a simple request. Burning a SIN isn't just deleting a number - it's wiping all reference to that number from all of the world's largest databases.
It's masking your mugshot in their facial-recognition database so that the first camera you walk past doesn't bring them down on you like a ton of bricks. It's covering our fucking tracks so that the *act* of burning your SIN doesn't lead them right to us. It requires contacts in numerous corporations and the UCAS government.

{{GM}}Smoke rolls out of the triad boss's nose.{{/GM}}

It requires someone like *me.*
Therefore, I need to make a choice.

{{GM}}She takes another drag on her cigar and gently places her palm flat on the table.{{/GM}}

Do I kill you and dispose of your bodies before the cops come looking for you, or do I help you burn your SINs?
I know my vote.
How would killing us benefit you?
We're more valuable alive. Help us and we'll help you.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Gang{{/CC}} If I were you, I'd be more interested in protecting my rep. Two of your people were just clipped. If you don't do something about it, it's a show of weakness.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Academic{{/CC}} From what I've read about the triads, your first priority should be your reputation. Two of your people were just killed. It is a loss of Face.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Shadowrunner{{/CC}} You may want to think about your rep as a Fixer. Two of your runners were taken down by the cops and you have no idea why.
{{GM}}Cheng rests her chin on her hand again and smiles at you.{{/GM}}

I know, my darling. You want to live. But if you're alive...
She stares at you for a moment, chin still on hand, thinking. Taps her ash on the floor without taking her eyes off of you.
{{GM}}Cheng rests her chin on her hand again and smiles at you.{{/GM}}

Killing you would be far simpler, my darling. Less moving parts. If you're alive...
{{GM}}Cheng rests her chin on her hand again and smiles at you.{{/GM}}

Are you, my darling? If you're dead, things appear to be much less complicated. If you're alive...
She stares at you for a long moment, chin still on hand, thinking. Taps her ash on the floor without taking her eyes off of you.
{{GM}}A low, reluctant growl rumbles somewhere deep in her throat.{{/GM}}

Okay, you live for now. I'll put your SINs to the torch.

*However,* I'll need to call in several valuable favors within my network to do it. And those favors do not come cheap.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng stubs out her cigar.{{/GM}}

You will owe me.
What do you want us to do?
Whatever you say, Auntie.
Can't say I'm surprised.
I want you to deliver a message for me. To a business associate in the Walled City.
The Yellow Lotus has a strong presence inside, $(l.firstname). Is0bel can tell you all about it, can't you, dear?

Is0bel grew up in the Walled City.
{{GM}}Is0bel's eyes remain lowered.{{/GM}}

They collect taxes for the corporations. Extort protection money from shop keepers. Run drugs, guns, people.

They hurt people.
We do those things, yes. But to be fair, we also operate the Walled City's black market. You might not be alive today if it weren't for the lifeline that we provide.
Is0bel clams up tight.
{{GM}}Cheng picks up a mahjong tile and turns it with her fingers.{{/GM}}

There is a Red Pole - a sort of enforcer, yes? - on the inside. His name is Strangler Bao.

Bao is a strong man, a good soldier, but he has forgotten his place. I need you to remind him.
How are we supposed to do that?
Want us to make an example of him?
Let me guess. By "remind him," you mean "put a bullet in his head."
{{GM}}She tosses you a memory stick.{{/GM}}

This is a message for Bao. You will deliver it to him in my name, and then return to me.

Remember that Bao's men are *my* men. By right, they should all be serving *me.* I would prefer it if you did this quietly, and without killing them. I have no use for dead soldiers.
{{GM}}She turns to Gobbet and Is0bel.{{/GM}}

One of you will go with these two Westerners to the Walled City. Help them locate Bao and show them the ropes.

The other will remain here with me. I have several menial and degrading tasks that need doing around the establishment. No matter who goes and who stays, you'll both pay for bringing an APB to my doorstep.
Now... I'm gonna find out who ordered the hit on Nightjar and do some dentistry on him with power tools.

{{GM}}She closes her eyes and smiles with pleasure.{{/GM}}

That boy was my favorite. He sang to me sometimes.
{{GM}}She opens her eyes again and sneers.{{/GM}}

That other one, I don't care about.

Gutshot was an asshole.
{{GM}}She turns away and waves you off with the back of her hand.{{/GM}}

That will be all, my darlings. Return to me when you are done.
One last question, Auntie?
Thanks for the favor, Auntie.
{{GM}}She keeps her back to you, but you can tell she's making eye-contact with her lieutenant.{{/GM}}

Why not? Apparently, I'm feeling generous today.
What happened on the docks tonight?
How do I know you weren’t behind Raymond's disappearance?
What do you think happened to Raymond and got your shadowrunners killed?
I wasn’t. But I don’t need you to believe that and I don't care if you do.

But ask anyone and they’ll tell you - Kindly Cheng doesn't pull the HKPF's strings. That’s for the corps.
If I wanted you gone, you'd already be decomposing.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng's voice is small.{{/GM}}

I don't know.
{{GM}}She responds without turning back.{{/GM}}

You can thank me after you've delivered my message to Bao. Then I'll do you the favor of erasing you.
{{GM}}Wu turns to leave.{{/GM}}

Well, we're still alive. That's something.
Did I say that I wanted you to make an example of him? No. I want you to deliver a message.

{{GM}}She tosses you a memory stick.{{/GM}}

Bring this to him in my name. And remember that Bao's men are *my* men - by right, they should all be serving *me.* Killing them would be a waste of resources. I have no use for dead soldiers.
No. If I wanted him dead, I would have said so. Don't jump to conclusions, you aren't any good at it.

{{GM}}She tosses you a memory stick.{{/GM}}

This is a message for Bao. You will deliver it to him in my name, and then return to me.
Remember, $(l.name)... Bao's men are *my* men. By right, they should all be serving *me.*

I would prefer it if you did this quietly, and without killing them. I have no use for dead soldiers.
The Yellow Lotus has a strong presence inside, $(l.name).

Is0bel can tell you all about it, can't you, dear? Is0bel grew up in the Walled City.
Don't roll over so easily, my darling. People will think you're an ass-kisser. It's unbecoming.
{{GM}}She pokes a finger in your direction.{{/GM}}

Of course not. You seem to have an understanding of how the world works. The give and take that is a part of every fruitful relationship.
{{GM}}Cheng rests her chin on her hand again and smiles at you coldly.{{/GM}}

So clever. So, so clever.

{{GM}}Her chin stays on her hand but her eyes look past you, surveying the Yellow Lotus soldiers in the room.{{/GM}}

Yes, I have been placed in a delicate situation, haven't I? Regardless, that's the situation whether you're alive or you're sucking dirt.
{{GM}}A low, reluctant growl rumbles somewhere deep in her throat.{{/GM}}

You live. You're clever and I like that.

I'll put your SINs to the torch. *However,* I'll need to call in several valuable favors within my network to do it. And those favors do not come cheap.
I hear there was a fresh corpse found on the docks tonight. A smuggler, I believe. Didn't sound like the Hong Kong police when I heard about it.

Your doing, Duncan Wu?
{{GM}}She puckers her lips at him, her voice sing-song.{{/GM}}

I don't care, sweetie. Wasn't one of *my* people.
I heard about your encounter on the docks tonight. The one before the cops showed up.

You managed to leave them trussed up instead of dead. Impressive.
I identified myself as Lone Star but they wouldn't stand down. They had weapons.

{{GM}}He sighs.{{/GM}}

There are ways out of situations without resorting to killing.
{{GM}}She puckers her lips at him, her voice sing-song.{{/GM}}

I don't really care, sweetie. They weren't *my* people.

The question is, can you take a life when it comes down to it?
{{GM}}She rests her chin on her hand.{{/GM}}

My my. It's still hard to believe someone can put their mind into a drone. Amazing. And how did you become a rigger, $(l.firstname).
{{GM}}She rests her chin on her hand.{{/GM}}

Interesting. I must say, I've never been partial to magicians, myself. Too... otherworldly for me. And how did you become a mage, $(l.firstname).
{{GM}}She rests her chin on her hand.{{/GM}}

Ah, like young Gobbet here! And how did you become a shaman, $(l.firstname).
{{GM}}She rests her chin on her hand.{{/GM}}

Mmm. You like to get up close and personal with your killing. And how did you become an adept, $(l.firstname)?
{{GM}}She rests her chin on her hand.{{/GM}}

Ah, yes. You're from Seattle. "Street Samurai" isn't something we say here in Hong Kong. We prefer "Street Soldier."

And how did you become a street soldier, $(l.firstname).
{{GM}}She rests her chin on her hand.{{/GM}}

I know the type. And how did you become someone who does what needs doing, $(l.firstname)?
Oh, you've already chosen a street name. How prescient of you.

{{GM}}Cheng looks at you approvingly.{{/GM}}

$(l.name). It's a good name. Has real character.
{{GM}}She flutters her eyelashes at you.{{/GM}}

Now what's your real name?

I mean, you do want me to erase your identities, don't you, dear? I'll need to know who you are first.
{{GM}}She shrugs. Looks at her lieutenant standing behind her. Looks back at you.{{/GM}}

Silence, sweetie?

You're here because you want me to erase your identities. I'll need to know who you are before I can do that.
Very good. Why don't we start with you telling me who you are?
We'll see, my dear. Why don't we start with you telling me who you are?
Kindly Cheng watches you closely as you walk across the mahjong parlor. As you approach, her lieutenant leans in, brings her mouth close to the triad boss's ear. Cheng smiles and nods, her eyes never leaving you.
{{GM}}Her rusty voice rolls from somewhere deep.{{/GM}}

I've heard from Bao. He got my message - very clearly.
But he also says there was bloodshed. And I specifically told you to let them live.

{{GM}}Her button eyes are like tiny lumps of coal.{{/GM}}

I'm disappointed.
We didn't kill your men. It was an angry ghost.
If his men got in our way, we explained it to 'em.
Couldn't be helped. We were defending ourselves.
I was feeling homicidal. I get that way sometimes.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng grins a predatory grin.{{/GM}}

Of course, my darlings. Of course. An angry ghost! That explains my dead soldiers!
It's true, Auntie Cheng! A vengeful spirit rose up from a pile of dirty rags!

*It* killed Bao's...

{{GM}}She corrects herself. Quickly.{{/GM}}

*It* killed your men.
{{GM}}Cheng tut-tuts.{{/GM}}

I expected more of you than this, my sweet Gobbet.

Now stop talking before you get yourself in trouble.
My message was delivered and Strangler Bao is back in the fold, earning for me.

As far as I'm concerned, our transaction is complete.
While you were gone, I set the wheels in motion to wipe your identities.

{{GM}}She pulls out her PDA. Stabs a button with a lacquered fingernail.{{/GM}}

The order has been sent.
Congratulations, you are now SINless.

Shadow-people.
Wu exhales heavily. His eyes remain focused straight ahead, but his shoulders sag.
Well, I guess *that's* done.
I didn't like the way my life was going anyway.
We'll figure a way out of this, Duncan.
Yeah. I guess so. But *I'm* not.

{{GM}}Wu pulls himself up to his full height.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Wu pulls himself up to his full height.{{/GM}}

Yeah, well I had something going in Seattle, $(l.firstname). I had my license. I was going freelance. Found a storefront in Bellevue where Carter and I were gonna set up shop.
Now it's all blown to hell.

{{GM}}He clenches a fist.{{/GM}}

Someone's gonna pay for that. Pay for Carter.
{{GM}}Wu pulls himself up to his full height.{{/GM}}

There's only one way out of this, $(l.firstname), and that's *through* it.
Whoever gave the kill order on Carter also forced us to give up our identities. And took Raymond.

{{GM}}Wu sets his jaw firm.{{/GM}}

That's all I can think about. Finding who did this. Finding Ray.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng holds up a hand.{{/GM}}

While I was working to get your SINs burned, I also had my network look into Raymond Black's disappearance.
I've been thinking about what you told me earlier... and I agree.

{{GM}}She eyes the room carefully and leans in.{{/GM}}

I can't just let this lie. Someone killed my runners. It would be a sign of weakness to the Yellow Lotus and the others if I do nothing.
She rests her PDA on the mahjong table facing you. The triad boss's tongue slips from her mouth as she looks over the top, hunting for the right button on its upside-down interface.
{{GM}}She finds it and looks up at you again.{{/GM}}

I have news to share with you, my darlings. The kind you won't like.
Raymond Black is dead.

{{GM}}She taps the button and a recorded newscast appears on the screen.{{/GM}}
Raymond's photograph appears on the screen behind a reporter standing on the docks in Victoria Harbour. It's a picture you've seen before - a professional portrait taken for a press release about a youth center he was opening in the Redmond Barrens.

Under Raymond's photo are the words, "Seattle Man Killed."
...another shooting involving the police department. A Seattle community organizer and industrial engineer was apparently shot and killed while resisting arrest at Victoria Harbour last night.
HKPF police report that the UCAS man, Raymond Black, was behaving erratically and would not respond to police orders to surrender.
No additional information regarding Black or why he was traveling to Hong Kong are available. Police have stated that due to this shooting's proximity to last night's shootout with the White Star, the investigation must remain confidential and no other details are being revealed at this time...
Kindly Cheng taps the button again and the video closes.
{{GM}}Wu puts his hands to his face.{{/GM}}

This just keeps getting worse.
It definitely isn't getting any better.
You were right, Auntie. That was news I did not like.
Raymond's dead.

{{GM}}Wu puts his hand over his mouth, trying to process the information. He sways, and for a moment, it looks as if he's going to pass out.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Is0bel reaches out to touch Wu, thinks better of it and pulls back her hand.{{/GM}}
Sorry for your loss.

I never had a father so I don't know what it's like to lose one... but...

Sorry.
Son of a bitch. Raymond's dead.
Raymond dies the same night we're ambushed? That's no coincidence.
You okay, Duncan?
{{GM}}Kindly taps the video closed. She hunts around the keypad and selects another button.{{/GM}}

I'm afraid that's not all, my darlings. This is security footage from Victoria Harbour from last night.

You'll find it contains... a contradiction.
The PDA shows silent, grainy video footage of Raymond sitting in a tea shop flanked by two guards. He's looking down at something in his hand, completely distracted.
The footage continues and the camera displays several black-clad figures entering its field of view from different angles, guns ready. A tall, sharply-dressed man in a suit walks briskly towards Raymond, flanked by two more.
Raymond stands to face him and the camera gets a clear view of the suit's face. White plastic.

His guards turn to draw weapons and muzzle-flashes erupt from all sides. One of Raymond's guards goes down and his submachine-gun fires wildly, hitting the camera.
{{GM}}Wu puts his hands on the table and leans in.{{/GM}}

Those weren't cops. And Raymond wasn't "resisting arrest."
What's with that guy's face?

{{GM}}Gobbet reaches up to stroke the rat perched on her shoulder.{{/GM}}

Is that a mask?
It's doesn't look like a mask. It looks like some sort of semi-rigid plastic implant. Real craftsmanship.

{{GM}}She pushes out her lower lip in appreciation.{{/GM}}

Quite the fashion accessory.
It's also the kind of fashion accessory that stands out in a crowd.

This guy's either a fool or an arrogant son-of-a-bitch.

{{GM}}He sets his jaw firm.{{/GM}}

Either way, I'm gonna find him.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng watches Wu intently.{{/GM}}

I believe you.
{{GM}}Wu stands back and turns to you.{{/GM}}

What now?
We stay in the shadows. We don't, we're dead too.
We find the Plastic-Faced Man and drag him somewhere private. Make 'em dig his own hole. Then we fill it.
We find out who this Plastic-Faced Man is. Then we get some answers.
{{GM}}Cheng's eyes sparkle.{{/GM}}

True.

But how? I'm afraid there are some facts you are going to have to face.
{{GM}}She puts on a grave face.{{/GM}}

You are alone in this country.

No network. No money. No identity.

I can protect you from the police but how would you survive in the shadows?
{{GM}}Cheng's eyes sparkle.{{/GM}}

I like the way you think. That is exactly what I would do.

But how? I'm afraid there are some facts you are going to have to face.
{{GM}}She puts on a grave face.{{/GM}}

You are alone in this country.

No network. No money. No identity.

I can protect you from the police but how would you go about discovering what happened to Raymond without me? How would you survive?
With what resources?

{{GM}}Cheng's eyes sparkle.{{/GM}}

I'm afraid there are some facts you are going to have to face.
{{GM}}She puts on a grave face.{{/GM}}

You are alone in this country. No network. No money. No identity. I can protect you from the police but how would you go about discovering what happened to Raymond without me? How would you survive?

This is a topic that requires serious consideration.
{{GM}}Kindly wipes her hand across a stack of tiles, spreading the ivory colored pieces across the table.{{/GM}}

You've had a very long night, my sweets.

Very long.
And frankly, you all look like shit.

Rest now. I promise you safety in my town for the night.

We'll talk about the Plastic-Faced Man tomorrow.
{{GM}}Kindly gestures to Gobbet and Is0bel.{{/GM}}

Ladies, go find our new friends a place to bed down in that rats-nest squat-boat you call home.

We'll all talk after you've slept. Figure out our next steps together.
Thank you for your help, Auntie.
Can I ask you a question, Auntie?
Rats-nest squat-boat?
Of course, my sweet.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng smiles and her black button eyes flash cold.{{/GM}}

What are friends for?
No questions, my darling.

Sleep.

I'll figure out what to do with you in the morning.
Let's go, $(l.firstname). I'm beat to hell.
We call it "The Bolthole."
It's the abandoned trawler we call home.

{{GM}}Is0bel tries a smile.{{/GM}}

It's homey. Meet you there.
No fucking way.
I don't think so. I don't think I'm gonna be okay for a long time, $(l.firstname).
That's what happened. I recorded it.

See for yourself, Auntie Cheng.
{{GM}}The triad woman looks at Is0bel's PDA screen.{{/GM}}

...Well. I'll be damned.

I'm going to have words with Bao about this.
You screwed up, plain and simple.

{{GM}}Kindly begins stacking mahjong tiles.{{/GM}}

Nonetheless, I expected you to be a bit... sloppy. It's partly why I sent you.
{{GM}}There's a twinkle in the Straw Sandal's eye.{{/GM}}

I've heard from Bao. He got my message - very clearly.

And I understand that there were no casualties created during your little delivery run.

I am pleased and surprised.
I get that a lot.
Is0bel did a great job of guiding us.
Gobbet did a great job of guiding us.
You gave simple instructions. Would've taken an idiot to mess it up.
{{GM}}A wry grin.{{/GM}}

Do you? Perhaps your bravado is warranted. We'll see.
{{GM}}A wry grin.{{/GM}}

Did she? Good to know.
{{GM}}A wry grin.{{/GM}}

You'd be surprised how many idiots I have to deal with on a day-to-day basis.
{{GM}}There's disappointment in the Straw Sandal's eyes.{{/GM}}

I've heard from Bao. He received my message.

The message that you left on his desk after slaughtering his men.

Not at all what I asked for.
Sorry, Auntie.
My bad.
There is no cause for concern. I expected you to fuck it up. That's why I sent you.
What?
Part of the message was on that stick.

{{GM}}She eyes you closely.{{/GM}}

And part was the messenger.
Bao didn't rate sending real shadowrunners to deal with him.

Your sloppy handling of the job helped to prove my point.
So... does that mean we get our SINs burned?
Good to be of service.
It does.
Kindly Cheng stares at you a moment, reviewing your tone.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng has her head buried in her PDA and her hand on her bottle. She doesn't look up at you.{{/GM}}

I think you have business to attend to, $(l.name). Now go away, I'm busy.
Kindly Cheng appears to be nearing the end of a harsh exchange with Strangler Bao, who is listening intently.
...So, you tell that little *pustule* that Auntie Cheng isn't fucking happy, you get it? Not happy at all. Don't tell him that I'm *displeased.* Don't tell him that I didn't *take it well.*

{{GM}}She slams her shot glass on the table.{{/GM}}

Tell him that I'm *extremity-chopping* mad and if he doesn't want what happened to Yi to happen to *him,* he'd better get his head and his ass wired together and get me that payment. *Today.*
{{GM}}She raises an eyebrow.{{/GM}}

Was that message clear enough, Mr. Bao?
Yes, Mrs. Cheng.

{{GM}}Bao's gaze flits from the triad boss to you. He locks his eyes on yours and holds them there as he responds.{{/GM}}

I'll make sure that he understands the situation he's in.
Yes, Mrs. Cheng. I'll explain things to him in terms he can understand.

{{GM}}Bao steps back and becomes a meat statue once again.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Cheng's voice turns treacle-sweet when she sees you waiting for her.{{/GM}}

Ah, our newly-minted shadowrunner!

How are you taking to your new role, $(l.name)?
So far, so good.
Like a duck to water, Auntie.
It's a job. Same as any other.
I don't like being a criminal.
It's not the life I'd choose.
I had no doubt, my sweet. I have a nose for talent.

And how is Mr. Gun Show doing with his new life?
He's doing just fine, Auntie.
Don't worry. I have my eye on him.
He should be okay. Just needs some time to get used to all of this.
Very good, my dear. Very good.

{{GM}}She smiles.{{/GM}}

Was there something specific you came to see me about?
Just checking in, Auntie. It pays to stay in touch.
Any word on the Plastic-Faced Man?
Learn anything about Raymond?
I agree, yes. Personal contact gets results.

I have some good news for you. One of my people successfully planted a wiretap on the police's Special Duties Unit. If news of your foster-father or the Plastic-Faced Man reaches them, it will reach me as well.
So far, your foster-father has proven a difficult man to find, and the Plastic-Faced Man is... elusive. He's clearly someone who knows how to stay out of the public eye.

But I have my network running working day and night, and I still have some favors that I can call in if need be. We'll find them both... it's only a matter of time.

Until then, go about your business. I'm sure that more work will come your way any moment.
{{GM}}She glances back at Bao.{{/GM}}

Now I have some pressing business to attend to - the kind that ends in parentless children.

I'll talk to you later.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng picks up a mahjong tile and tosses it into the pile at the center of the table.{{/GM}}

Not yet. He's elusive - clearly a man who knows how to stay out of the public eye. But I have my network running working day and night to find him, and I still have some favors that I can call in if need be. I'll find him... it's only a matter of time.
I have good news as well. One of my people managed to tap the communications of the HKPF's Special Duties Unit. If any word of our plastic-faced friend or of Raymond Black crosses their door, I'll be the first to know it.

For now, go about your business. I'm sure that more work will come your way any moment. I will contact you when there is news.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng picks up a mahjong tile and tosses it into the pile at the center of the table.{{/GM}}

Not yet. But one of my people managed to tap the communications of the HKPF's Special Duties Unit. If any word of Raymond Black or our plastic-faced friend crosses their door, I'll be the first to know it.
I will admit that your foster-father has proven a difficult man to find. But I have my network running working day and night, and I still have some favors I can call in if need be. I'll find him... it's only a matter of time.

For now, go about your business. I'm sure that more work will come your way any moment. I will contact you when there is news.
I have no doubt, my sweet. I could smell your pragmatism the moment we met.

And how is Mr. Gun Show doing with his new life?
Get used to it, my darling. Everyone is a criminal. Everyone.

The average wageslave breaks multiple laws every day - laws designed to extract fines and fill coffers. Corporations get away with worse than murder with no more thought than a line-item on a spreadsheet. Politicians too. And the cops - the cops are nothing more than hired guns with badges.
In 2056, the only crime is getting *caught.*

Speaking of which, how is Mr. Gun Show doing with his new life?
I'm sure. In life, so many of us are forced do things we don't want do. And do you know why, my darling?

{{GM}}She puts her chin and both hands and flutters her eyelids.{{/GM}}
Because world is a reeking cesspool of despair. Life is nothing more than one vile task after another until you're dead.

But until someone caps you or you die from some horrible degenerative disease, I can assure you - there's more punishment in store.
And how is Mr. Gun Show doing with his wonderful new life?
As you walk through the mahjong parlor, you see your crew waiting for you, clearly uncomfortable to be so close to the triad boss. Then you see why. Kindly Cheng's cheeks are flushed and glowing. She's already hit the bottle pretty hard.
Ah, $(l.name), you're here. Excellent.
Yes, $(l.name). It is good to see you.

{{GM}}They both have expressions that say they'd rather be anywhere else.{{/GM}}
Nice to see you all. Should we grab a table for some mahj?
Let's get to it, shall we? You said you had a lead, Auntie?
Don't keep us in suspense, Auntie. What did you find out about the Plastic-Faced Man?
Shut up, $(l.name). I have important news.
I did! And I do!
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng takes out her PDA and gently places it on the table in front of her.{{/GM}}

The wire tap we placed on the police force has borne fruit.
{{GM}}Her mouth breaks into a wolfish grin her eyes take on a feral gleam. She appears fueled by alcohol and vengeance - a hungry beast on the hunt.{{/GM}}

My people have delivered a snippet of a recorded video call between the Plastic-Faced Man and Chief Inspector Krait of the Special Duties Unit.
Whoa.
This should be good.
Should we take a seat?
Unfortunately, it's only a snippet. There were some technical difficulties with the tap.

{{GM}}She glances at Bao, who nods back at her.{{/GM}}

The person responsible has been sacked.
Cheng reaches out a lacquered fingernail, hunts for the button she's looking for, and stabs it in victory. There's a loud crackling noise at the beginning of the recording followed by a squelching squeal that makes Gobbet cover her ears in pain.

When the video recording begins, the man's voice sounds far away as if he's talking through a thick pane of glass. The woman's is louder. Closer.
<<...Say that again. There's something wrong with this line.>>
<<I *said,* my client isn't interested in hearing more excuses, Inspector.>>
<<That's what I thought you said. I'm not *making* excuses, mister. I have a department to run-->>
<<Not for much longer, if those two Westerners aren't found. They're linked to this Raymond Black somehow and my client wants them out of circulation immediately.>>
<<The two runners are his accomplices, too - the little ork and the dwarf with the cyberdeck.>>
Gobbet looks at Is0bel wide-eyed and swallows hard. Is0bel winks back reassuringly.
<<I'm aware, Inspector. Thank you. We don't know how much any of them know and my client is adamant that the risk be mitigated immediately.>>
<<I've already made this the SDU's highest priority. If Josephine wants more resources on it, I'm going to need allocations from elsewhere in the department.>>
<<That is a problem that can be easily dealt with. My client wants this over, NOW. No more excuses. No more fuck-ups. No more cops floating in the river.>>
Kindly Cheng smiles at that and pours herself a shot.
<<Tell her we're redoubling our efforts.>>
<<Very good. Dead or alive, you bring them to me. My client requires my personal verification that the threat has been eliminated.>>
<< Hang on, this line is getting worse... >>
There's a sharp crackle and the recording ends. Kindly Cheng picks up her PDA and puts it away with a smile. She unscrews the cap on her bottle and pours herself a shot with a flourish.
That's the guy we saw in the surveillance footage. The one who killed Raymond Black.

{{GM}}She leans in to the PDA.{{/GM}}

That plastic face looks a lot cooler close up.
I think it's kind of pretty.
That video doesn't tell us much. I mean, we already know that there's an APB on us. All we're sure of now is that the man with the plastic face is definitely working for someone else. This "Josephine."
Is that all we have, Auntie? A first name?
It's not just a first name, Gobbet dear. It's *the* first name.

Josephine Tsang. *She's* the one pulling the strings.

{{GM}}Kindly downs her shot and slams the glass upside down on her table.{{/GM}}
That disease-riddled dog-fucker... I should have known it was her from the beginning.

{{GM}}She drums her fingers on the table in front of her.{{/GM}}

And she had *nerve* to call down the heat on MY runners? On Nightjar?

Oh, that scabrous fossil is going to *pay.*
So... friend of yours?
I don't recognize the name.
This woman has enough power to order the HKPF to hunt us down?
{{GM}}Cheng makes a wet hacking noise in the back of her throat and spits on the floor.{{/GM}}

She's the CEO of Tsang Mechanical Services and a member of the Hong Kong Executive Council.

{{GM}}Her face turns to a mask of disgust.{{/GM}}

Josephine-dogfucking-Tsang.
Mmm hmm.

{{GM}}Cheng makes a wet hacking noise in the back of her throat and spits on the floor.{{/GM}}
She's the CEO of Tsang Mechanical Services and a member of the Hong Kong Executive Council.

{{GM}}Her face turns to a mask of disgust.{{/GM}}

Josephine-dogfucking-Tsang.
CEO, huh? What do you know about her?
What is Tsang Mechanical Services?
What do you think the connection is between Josephine Tsang and this Plastic-Faced Man?
Remind me who this Executive Council is again.
Let's cut to the chase. What's our next step?
She's was Hong Kong Philanthropist of the Year in 2054 and 2055 - children's hospitals, homeless shelters, food distribution centers...
Good causes - and the kind that get good PR because people are too lazy and myopic to look for the *real* people doing the *hard* work.

The face-to-face-with-the-poor work.
Don't be so cynical, Is0bel.

{{GM}}Auntie Cheng smiles at her sweetly.{{/GM}}

Coming face-to-face with the unsanitized-for-video poor is distasteful, dear. You know that.
{{GM}}Her face gets stony.{{/GM}}

Beyond being a CEO and a philanthopist, I also know that Josephine Tsang is a lying, conniving bitch.
Philanthropist and bitch? Those two things sound mutually exclusive.
Sounds like you two have a history together.
{{GM}}She snorts derisively.{{/GM}}

Wake up, $(l.name). Power is power. Whether you're providing children with three hots and a cot or you're negotiating a treaty with a multi-national, it's all the same.
It doesn't sound like you like her very much.
I'm not getting a big wave of respect coming off of you, Auntie.
Whatever gave you that impression, my sweet?

{{GM}}Her wolfish smile returns.{{/GM}}

No, my darling, I don't like Josephine Tsang. And I'm going to fuck her up.

I'm going to fuck her up *bad.*
Whatever gave you that impression, my sweet?

{{GM}}Her wolfish smile returns.{{/GM}}

Yes, my darling, I don't like Josephine Tsang. And I'm going to fuck her up.

I'm going to fuck her up *bad.*
Care to elaborate on that, Auntie?
Oh, this should be good.
I don't know, Auntie. This woman sounds like someone we shouldn't mess with.
No.

{{GM}}She picks up her bottle of swill. Its turpentine fumes drift your way.{{/GM}}

Not now. Not today. But you'll be there, my darling.

I'll make it a party.
It will be delicious. And I may explain why some day - but not today.

{{GM}}She picks up her bottle of swill. Its turpentine fumes drift your way.{{/GM}}

But when I finally get her, you'll be there, my darling.

I'll make it a party.
And I am?

{{GM}}She picks up her bottle of swill. Its turpentine fumes drift your way.{{/GM}}

No, I'm going to get her and when I finally do, you'll be there, my darling.

I'll make it a party.
Josephine's baby.

It was a B-rated corporation before she married into the Tsang family, but after she fought for and won the contract to rebuild Kowloon Walled City, their fortunes rose. High.

They began a rise to power that eventually landed Josephine on the Executive Council.
Wait, so there's a connection between Josephine Tsang and the Walled City?
Walled City? THE Walled City?
She sounds like a sharp business leader.
Yes. The same place Raymond Black hired my runners to take him. I've already connected the dots.

I don't know what it means but it clearly means *something.*
Oh, she's sharp all right.

{{GM}}She spits the words out bitterly.{{/GM}}

Very sharp.
You sound like you have first-hand information on that.
Let's change the subject.
{{GM}}Cheng looks at you with a "don't go there" stare.{{/GM}}

Mmm hmm.
I don't know yet. But I *will.*
He called her his client. That may be some sort of lead we can follow.
{{GM}}Cheng nods at Wu. Her glance lingers at his biceps a moment before continuing.{{/GM}}

Right now, all we know is that he is her instrument - the one who killed Raymond Black.
Raymond's not dead.
Yes, you may have mentioned that before, Gun Show.

{{GM}}She smiles at him reprovingly.{{/GM}}

Regardless, the Plastic-Faced Man is still our best lead for figuring out what's going on.
May I, Auntie?

{{GM}}Is0bel breaks in, giving Kindly Cheng a chance to calm down a bit.{{/GM}}

Hong Kong is run by a consortium of powerful corporations called the Board of Governors, who set up the Executive Council, an eight-member committee of exemplary Hong Kong citizens to represent the people and run the city on their behalf.
But, of course, you don't vote for them - that would be too... unpredictable.

Instead, every two years, two Executive Council slots come up for election and the corporations on the Board of Governors put up some possible candidates and vote among themselves in a closed door session.
Closed door? I'm shocked.
Of course, every single one of these candidates is on some corporation's payroll, somehow.

Wham, bam. Instant government.
There's nothing we can do to touch Josephine Tsang, as much as I hate to admit it. But the Plastic-Faced Man is a different story. He's a third-party operative who's been careless, and he'll live to regret it.

{{GM}}Her little black eyes turn stony.{{/GM}}

For awhile.
If Tsang thinks she can take out two of my runners and get away with it, I'm going to have to *explain* things to her.

{{GM}}She pulls out a thin black cigar and runs it beneath her nose.{{/GM}}
We're going to *find* the Plastic-Faced Man and we are going to *hurt* him. We'll hurt him until we know everything he does. And then we will use that to strike back Josephine Tsang.

{{GM}}She lights her cigar and takes a deep, deep pull.{{/GM}}

You will have your vengeance and I will have my own… satisfaction.
{{GM}}She turns away and picks up the bottle.{{/GM}}

Now get out. I have work to do.
Kindly Cheng is in the midst of emptying two plastic shopping bags when you enter. She places the contents in a pile on her mahjong table: two liquor bottles without labels, a box of her thin black cigars, an assortment of individually wrapped gourmet chocolates, and a large caliber pistol with electrical tape wrapped around its grip.
Ah, good. You're here.

{{GM}}She finishes with the plastic bags and throws them to the floor.{{/GM}}

It seems like forever since we saw each other.
Forever? You haven't been gone that long, Auntie.
You said you had information to share in person. Here I am.
Welcome back. Was your trip worthwhile?
No, I haven't. That was just something Nightjar used to say to me.

{{GM}}Cheng smiles wistfully.{{/GM}}

Every time he saw me.
While I was away, I met with several contacts within my network who referred me to others in neighboring cities. Regardless of how far technology moves forward, tradition demands that some things be handled face-to-face.

I have information that will lead you to the man who killed Raymond Black.
{{GM}}Her voice is filled with a rusty energy.{{/GM}}

Yes, my darling, yes. I met with several contacts within my network who referred me to others in neighboring cities. Regardless of how far technology moves forward, tradition demands that some things be handled face-to-face.

I have returned with information that will lead you to the Plastic-Faced Man. The man who killed Raymond Black.
There is no Raymond Black.
Raymond Black isn't dead.
Excellent. While you were gone, we uncovered a relationship between Josephine Tsang and Raymond Black.
{{GM}}The triad woman's eyes narrow.{{/GM}}

What do you mean, there is no Raymond Black?
We've been lied to all this time - Wu and me. Raymond Black is actually Edward Tsang.
The man who raised us isn't Raymond Black. He's Edward Tsang, the son of Josephine Tsang.
He's fiction. Made up. His real name is Edward Tsang.
Raymond Black is Josephine's *son?*

{{GM}}Her brow furrows.{{/GM}}

...Yes, you *were* lied to. For a long time. This explains where he went when he disappeared years ago. Seattle.
You were raised by Josephine's *son?*

{{GM}}Her brow furrows.{{/GM}}

That explains where Edward went when he disappeared years ago. Seattle.
Fiction, eh?

{{GM}}Her brow furrows.{{/GM}}

Josephine's son, Edward. So, That explains where he went when he disappeared years ago. Seattle.
Any idea why he disappeared?
What happened?
No. Just that he went missing after Josephine completed re-building the Walled City. That was in the early '30s.

{{GM}}Her face twists into a mask of disgust.{{/GM}}

You realize what this means, don't you, my sweet? That inbred little goat-whore was cold enough to have her *own son* executed.
I don't know. Just that he went missing after Josephine completed re-building the Walled City. That was in the early '30s.

{{GM}}Her face twists into a mask of disgust.{{/GM}}

You realize what this means, don't you, my sweet? That inbred little goat-whore was cold enough to have her *own son* executed.
Even more reason to find the Plastic-Faced Man. What have you found out?
You said you had news of your own. I told you mine, now you tell me yours.
Your turn. Did your out of town networking produce the results you were looking for?
Everything you need to move forward.

{{GM}}She grabs a bottle and opens it.{{/GM}}

I know the *identity* of the Plastic-Faced Man!
And your news was fascinating, my sweet. Disgusting and riveting. But my news will give you what you need to move forward!

{{GM}}She grabs a bottle and opens it.{{/GM}}

I know the *identity* of the Plastic-Faced Man!
Oh yes. *Exactly* the results I was looking for!

{{GM}}She grabs a bottle and opens it.{{/GM}}

I know the *identity* of the Plastic-Faced Man!
His name is Lee Tai-lung and he's an independent contractor - a trusted, deniable asset who handles all of Josephine Tsang's more... *delicate* operations off the books and away from the public eye. The Plastic-Faced Man is her shadowy right-hand outside of the corporation.

{{GM}}Cheng doesn't bother with a glass. She takes a long pull off the stinking bottle and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.{{/GM}}

And I know how to find him, too.
I've made contact with an information broker, Xiaozhi, who works out of an abandoned night market in Shek Kip Mei called the Shing House Court. It's not hard to find.

{{GM}}She takes another pull on the bottle.{{/GM}}

Xiaozhi has gained access to the Plastic-Faced Man's complete itinerary - where he'll be, who he'll be with, what sort of security he'll have - the works.
{{GM}}She grins, glassy-eyed.{{/GM}}

You can use it to perform an extraction. Grab him and find out what he knows.
Did you find out why Lee has a face made of plastic?
Great. The faster we find the Plastic-Faced Man, the faster we get our revenge.
Got it. Go to Shek Kip Mei, look for a night market called Shing House Court, and find an information broker called Xiaozhi.
It's not just his face. Lee Tai-lung's entire skull is synthetic.

He's designed himself to be the perfect corporate operative. He's installed a unique piece of headware, you see. It allocates and compartmentalizes client-related memories so that they can be erased upon the completion of a job. And as an added security measure, this cortical implant will wipe his memory if it detects that he's been captured.
True, but you can't just pull him out of his car and hit him until he tells you what you need to know.

Lee Tai-lung designed himself to be the perfect corporate operative. He's installed a unique piece of headware, you see. It allocates and compartmentalizes client-related memories so that they can be erased upon the completion of a job. As an added security measure, this cortical implant will wipe his memory if it detects that he's been captured.
Yes, it's all very straightforward - until it's not.

Lee Tai-lung has designed himself to be the perfect corporate operative. He's installed a unique piece of headware, you see. It allocates and compartmentalizes client-related memories so that they can be erased upon the completion of a job. As an added security measure, this cortical implant will wipe his memory if it detects that he's been captured.
Seriously? He can just wipe out everything having to do with Tsang Mechanical Services?
So we need a way to circumvent the implant.
How the hell are we supposed to get past *that?*
It's all part of his branding, apparently. Unless you can find away around the cortical implant, you'll have no way to extract the information he has and figure out what happened to Raymond Black.

{{GM}}She circles the mouth of the bottle with her index finger.{{/GM}}

Now, I've done *my* part in this, my darling. *You* need to find a way to neutralize that device.
Exactly. Unless you can find away around the cortical implant, you'll have no way to extract the information he has and figure out what happened to Raymond Black.

{{GM}}She circles the mouth of the bottle with her finger.{{/GM}}

Now, I've done *my* part in this, my darling. *You* need to find a way to neutralize that device.
{{GM}}Is0bel interjects, her voice breaking slightly as she speaks.{{/GM}}

I know a way. I've heard of something like this before.

I met someone in the Matrix who had to shirk a similar memory-wipe implant once. It was a requirement for a big job, and she pulled it off.
Keep talking. Continues à parler.
Her handle is Dreamland, and I know where to find her.

All that we have to do is convince her to give up the secret of how she did it.
Okay, Is0bel and I will go see Dreamland before we hit the information broker. Then we grab the Plastic-Faced Man.
No matter who you choose to help you snatch this guy, *I'm* gonna be there when you extract the information from him about Raymond.

{{GM}}Wu crosses his arms across his chests and tilts his head towards you.{{/GM}}

You got it, $(l.firstname)?
Yeah, I got it.
We should all be there.

{{GM}}Gobbets eyebrows arch high.{{/GM}}

I know that *I* wanna see this.
Very good my darlings. Now listen to me.

After you get what you need from the Plastic-Faced Man, I want you to *end him,* you understand?
{{GM}}The triad boss taps the table with her finger.{{/GM}}

I need to send a very clear message that *this* is what happens when you mess with Kindly Cheng's operations - with Kindly Cheng's people.

Josephine takes Nightjar, I take her Plastic-Faced Man.
Once you snatch the Plastic-Faced Man, Tsang will know *something* is happening, and events will unfold very quickly after that. You'd best close out any pressing business you have *before* heading to Shek Kip Mei to see Xiaozhi.

Do you understand?
Once I snatch the Plastic-Faced Man, I turn off the lights in the Shadowrun Store and lock the door. Check.
I'll check my mission computer to see if I have any jobs I want to knock out before I hit the MTR for Shek Kip Mei.
Yeah, I get it. Once we set the ball rolling on this, there's no turning back.
Such a colorful way of saying it!

{{GM}}Kindly Cheng raps on the mahjong table with an imitation-ivory tile.{{/GM}}

Just be sure your affairs are in order before you head to see the information broker.
Business is business, my darling.

{{GM}}Kindly Cheng raps on the mahjong table with an imitation-ivory tile.{{/GM}}

And business has been good since you arrived!
That's right, my darling. No more side-jobs and no more dalliances.

{{GM}}Kindly Cheng raps on the mahjong table with an imitation-ivory tile.{{/GM}}

Be sure that your affairs are in order before you head to see the information broker.
{{GM}}The triad woman's eyes narrow.{{/GM}}

He isn't?
{{GM}}The triad woman's eyes narrow.{{/GM}}

Did you? And what was it you uncovered?
The walk through the mahjong parlor is punctuated by the tantalizing smell of coconut and fried confection. Your crew surrounds Kindly Cheng, watching uncomfortably as she peels small egg-shaped delicacies from a waffle-like pastry and pops them into her mouth. Each time she does, her eyes close in ecstasy and soft sound comes from her throat.
There you are, $(l.name). Your crew here tells me that you were able to locate and interrogate the Plastic-Faced Man.

{{GM}}The Straw Sandal's eyes narrow and her rusty voice gets an edge.{{/GM}}

They haven't told me his current disposition, however. I assume everything went as I instructed?
{{GM}}Avoid her question.{{/GM}} We managed to extract valuable information from him.
{{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} Yes, Auntie.
I let him walk away.
I was gonna take the face as a trophy but I thought it would be tacky.
Yes, Auntie. We took one of Josephine's pieces off the board.
Of course he's dead. I am $(s.name), aren't I?
{{GM}}Her eyes remain narrow.{{/GM}}

So he's dead?
{{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} Yes.
Not exactly.
No. I let him walk away.
{{GM}}She shakes her head slowly, in feigned remorse.{{/GM}}

Don't make me pull things out of you, $(l.name).

Once I start, I'll find it hard to stop.
He's alive.
I'm sorry, Auntie. I let him go.
Her eyes remain narrow and she examines you closely for a moment.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng folds her hands and her face becomes perfectly still. Ten seconds go by. When she speaks again, her voice is calm.{{/GM}}

I thought I was clear that I wanted him dead.
His memory was gone. He wasn't a player anymore.
You were clear, Auntie. He was accommodating and I chose to reward him for it.
Your actions don't send a strong message to Josephine Tsang. When I tell you I want somebody dead, I prefer that they become dead.

*I* do the strategy. You *execute* the strategy.

{{GM}}She surveys your crew.{{/GM}}

Shadowrunners who wish to remain under my protection must remember their places.
{{GM}}Her stiff eyebrows rise.{{/GM}}

That said, you succeeded in removing one of her pieces from the board, so let's move on.

{{GM}}She pops an egg pastry into her mouth.{{/GM}}

I trust you got something useful out of the Plastic-Faced Man before you let him go?
{{GM}}Her stiff eyebrows rise.{{/GM}}

He better have been pretty damn *accommodating* for you to disobey me.

{{GM}}She pops an egg pastry into her mouth.{{/GM}}

I trust you got something useful out of him?
We got plenty.

{{GM}}Wu sounds eager.{{/GM}}

He gave us a data dump on everything he knew about Prosperity Tower. First hand info.
Josephine's headquarters?

{{GM}}She rubs her nose, considering.{{/GM}}

That could be useful, I suppose. What do you intend on doing with it?
We're gonna rescue Raymond. He's alive, Auntie, just like I said he was.

Josephine's holding him in there. She's doing something to his brain.
Something to his *brain?*

{{GM}}She takes another bite of her pastry.{{/GM}}

What is that old bitch up to now?
Oh, I don't know.

{{GM}}The triad boss smiles and her little black eyes flash.{{/GM}}

Trophies have their value.
Gobbet's eyes scans the room, apparently looking for trophies.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng's nostrils flair with a sharp inhale and her eyes glisten in triumph.{{/GM}}

That was for you, Nightjar.
Don't act like an arrogant idiot, $(l.name). It's a waste of my time.
I trust you got something useful out of him?
Josephine's headquarters?

{{GM}}She puts down the pastry. Rubs her nose, considering.{{/GM}}

That could be useful, I suppose. What do you intend on doing with it?
Based on the memory Mr. Plastic showed us, it looks like she's trying to rewire her son's memories, using something called ASIST - Artificial Sensory Induction Systems Technology.

It allows the user to record, process, and feed synthetic sensory input to the brain.
Like a simsense chip?
Yes, Auntie, it's the technology that *led* to simsense. It's also what allows deckers to enter the Matrix, and grants riggers a neural connection to their drones.

An expert ASIST technician could alter someone's personality, memory... even identity.
Sounds complicated.
I'm guessing experts like that don't grow on trees.
So it's pretty common.
It is. It requires a massive amount of computing power. And it's not like a temporary simsense experience.

Changing someone's memories requires a world-class expert in ASIST.
Definitely not. Changing someone's memories requires a world-class expert in ASIST and a massive amount of computing power.
Not the way Raymond's mother's using it.

Changing someone's memories requires a massive amount of computing power and a world-class expert in ASIST.
I'm not sure exactly what they're doing to him, but I'm guessing that his mom wants him to forget something... or to remember it differently, maybe.
And we have no idea what that is.
What do we know about Prosperity Tower?
We've got to get to Raymond before he isn't Raymond anymore.
{{GM}}Is0bel hesitates.{{/GM}}

No. No clue. All we know is that she's holding him Prosperity Tower while her people work on him.
This woman takes depravity to a whole new level. She's rewiring her son's *brain?*

{{GM}}Wu rubs his head in frustration.{{/GM}}

Who the hell does that?
Let's stay focused, Duncan.

{{GM}}Is0bel turns to the rest of you.{{/GM}}

Mr. Plastic dropped us a couple terabytes of data on Prosperity Tower - right out of his brain. Gun Show and I have been studying it. Lots of good intel to mine there.

Just what we need to take a run at the place and hope to get out alive.
Mr. Plastic dropped us a couple of terabytes of data on Prosperity Tower - right out of his brain. Is0bel and I have been studying it. Lots of good intel to mine there.

{{GM}}He looks at the rest of the crew.{{/GM}}

Just what we need to take a run at the place and hope to get out alive.
That means a run on Prosperity Tower.

Is0bel and I have been studying the data the Plastic-Faced Man gave us about it. Lots of good intel to mine there.
How do we make our approach?
Talk to me about the security setup. How do we get to Raymond?
How do we stop this ASIST thing from rewiring Raymond?
That's all I need to know.
Fortunately, Prosperity Tower is one of Tsang's lower security locations. It's mostly administrative, marketing, that sort of thing.
That's good.

{{GM}}Kindly turns to her enforcer.{{/GM}}

Mr. Bao, give the runners those old Tsang security passes you used on that hijacking last year.
Yes, Mrs. Cheng. They'll get them.
Those passes should get you through the lobby.

{{GM}}The triad boss pokes a fingernail between her teeth and dislodges a piece of pastry.{{/GM}}

You'll still have to explain your presence, $(l.name), so don't expect to just walk on through.
What about that junk data you held onto after the Wuxing run, Is0bel? Anything in there we can use?
Good thinking and I'm already ahead of you.

I scoured the leftover Wuxing paperwork and found a way to change our status to "special couriers." We can use that to pose as a third-party Wuxing uses to deliver important packages.
That'll work for awhile but we can't expect to stay in cover for long.

One way or another, things are gonna get hot.
The loading doc sound like just the edge we need. Lets do it.
Things are complicated enough. Lets take the direct approach.
Okay I'll get us booked into the Tsang system and print off some matching papers. We'll need a van to make it look legit.
Bao?
Consider it done.
Fair enough. We go in through the lobby.
Looks like it's the front door for us.

{{GM}}Is0bel leans over to Gobbet.{{/GM}}

Hope those old security passes work, Gobbet.
Well, it's better than nothing.
I look forward to being a Tsang employee.
{{GM}}Gobbet leans back to Is0bel.{{/GM}}

Hope is not a viable shadowrunning tool, Izz. We can't expect to stay in cover for long.

One way or another, things are gonna get hot.
The key to this operation are the three security stations located on different floors.

The matrix systems in these security stations are the command and control hubs for the entire building's security. As such, they're the best place to find out where Raymond Black is being held.
That's all we've got on his location?
All we know is that he's being held somewhere called "Lab Twelve."

But where that is or how to get in there is something we will need to figure out on-site.
If things go hostile the best thing to do is get to an alarm panel or a Matrix security node and shut things down.
If we're noticed, we'll have a *brief window* to cut the link to the alarm system. If we do that, it will isolate the whole floor from the security system. The rest of the building won't know what's happening there.

If the alarm goes off and we cut the link to the alarm system, we can spoof the system - tell it we've moved on to another location.
That might work once or twice, but if we spoof too many alarms, they'll figure it out.
How long is this "brief window" to cut the alarm?
What about guards? Quantity? Training?
What else do we have on the security stations themselves? Staffing, weaknesses?
That's all I need to know about security.
Maybe 30 seconds. Maybe less if the network isn't cluttered with traffic. It's there as a failsafe so security doesn't stampede all over the building if a janitor forgets to close a door.
Standard corp security for the most part but Tsang has a rapid response squad for high priority events.
That would be us.
Is Gobbet right? Do you think an intrusion into "Lab Twelve" would qualify as a high priority event?
Sounds manageable up to the point we find Raymond.
Judging by the way Grandma Tsang took out Carter, Gutshot, and Nightjar, I'd say she isn't interested in anyone getting anywhere near her son.

Expect to face Tsang's elite security once we find him.
Only one thing worth mentioning.

{{GM}}Is0bel looks over to Wu.{{/GM}}
The only way into a security station is with a key card. And guards on each floor carry a card to the station on that floor.
So we can get a card by taking them out but there may be other ways of getting keycards.
{{GM}}Wu crosses his arms across his chest.{{/GM}}

Like I said, the Security Stations are the key to this operation. They provide multiple opportunities to exploit the system and determine how to approach the rest of our incursion.
The Security Stations are high priority targets. Check.
We go as quiet as possible until we have no choice. We don't need an entire building full of security on us.
We want to take them fast, before they have a chance to respond.
So which station do we hit first?
They won't have a chance to respond. They'll be too dead.
{{GM}}The little decker purses her lips.{{/GM}}

No way to know. We'll need to take one of them and use it to determine our next step. It's like we have directions to go find a map.
Hope so.

{{GM}}The little decker purses her lips.{{/GM}}

We'll need to take at least one of the stations and use it to determine our next step. It's like we have directions to go find a map.
Roger that. We'll be quiet as rats.
I see what you did there.
I don't really feel very rat-like.
I do. I'll show you how it's done.
{{GM}}The little decker purses her lips.{{/GM}}

We'll need to take at least one of the stations and use it to determine our next step. It's like we have directions to go find a map.
Let's hope it's enough give us and edge.
All we know is that an ASIST device is located in "Lab Twelve." It's the only one in the building. Now I doubt that Grandma will just hand over the passcodes to her system if we asked nicely.

So we'll need a decker to access the ASIST device and eject him from the system safely before she scrambles his brain.
That sounds dangerous.
Got it. What does the decker need to do to eject him safely?
It's either that or leave him to Josephine, and that can't happen.
Like I said, we don't know. We are going to have to improvise. Figure that out when we get there.
One other thing - while I was helping Duncan verify as much of this data as I could, I decided to collect our marker with Bull and his team of runners.
Good call. We need all the help we can get.
You didn't think it would be a good idea to run that by *me* first?
{{GM}}Is0bel looks up at Wu, her eyes big and round.{{/GM}}

Yeah, no kidding.
We're not exactly flush with time here.

{{GM}}She drops her hands to her hips.{{/GM}}

I thought you wanted to get the old man out of there?
Just move on. We'll talk about that later.
Okay, you collected our marker. What did you get?
Turns out Bull and our runner friends hit Tsang a few months back. Low rent smash-and-grab for another corp, but they got a quick scan of the building's Matrix security before they rabbited.

They gave us data flags that pinpoint where the security nodes are located inside of Tsang's system.
So when we jack into a security station, we'll be able to make a direct attack on the security node.

That could just buy us the seconds we'll need to cut the alarm link.
Nice work.
Guess that marker was useful.
{{GM}}Kindly cuts in, licking her fingers with loud smacking noises.{{/GM}}

One more thing, $(l.name). While you're in her headquarters, look for anything we can use to incriminate or embarrass Josephine Tsang.

I want dirt. Something I can feed to... an acquaintance... on the Executive Council. Someone who stands to gain from it.
My first priority is getting Raymond disconnected from that ASIST machine.
Right after I rescue my father.
Does this dirt come with a cash bonus?
{{GM}}She pops another egg treat into her mouth and her eyes close tight with pleasure.{{/GM}}

Of course, my sweet. Of course.
Now go enjoy Prosperity Tower...

{{GM}}She smiles wolfishly.{{/GM}}

...And give Josephine Tsang my regards.
No time for runners now. I have other business to attend to.
Execute Bruiser ESP
Creates an Bruiser Expert System Program.
Acid Stream II
A stream of acid that also does ongoing -8 HP for 2 RNDS. Strips 1 Armor from the target.
Acid: HP -8 per RND
Draw Attention
Enemies within a range of 4 squares have a -15% to hit. Lasts 3 RNDS.
Distracted: Accuracy -15%
Flamethrower IV
You exit the service elevator and step out into the dimly-lit basement. You hear no sounds of alarms, nor shouting - but it's only a matter of time before Knight-Errant catches up with you.

The basement smells of mold and stale air. Faint vibrations runs through the floor and walls every few moments - evidence of MTR trains passing nearby.
That was closer than I'd have liked. Whew!

{{GM}}Dizzy hunches over, hands on her knees as she pants excitedly. She straightens as she calms down.{{/GM}}

Chalk that up on things I don't want to do again: get gassed while trying to escape from Knight-Errant.
Ahh, buck up, Dizzy. At least your fists and feet could hurt those bastards.

I swear to god, I'm never running against Ares again unless I've got an assault cannon with me. The old six-gun just won't cut it against Knight-Errant.
Just spring for some APDS rounds, man. You don't need to overcompensate that much.

So what now? We just march through the basement into the Central MTR station?
Let's take it slow. We don't know what's lurking down here.
One step at a time. Knight-Errant will definitely follow us down here.
We should move fast. We don't have much time before they figure out where we are.
Before we head off into the unknown, what are we going to do about the prototype?

You need it for your job, I need it for mine.
Let's not run off just yet. We still have to figure out what to do about that prototype.

You need it. So do I. So how are we going to handle this?
Hold up... One other thing before we head out.

What are we going to do about the fact that we both need that prototype?
You aren't the only one who needs it. We have a job to finish, just like you do.

It's unfortunate that we can't both get what we want, but that's how life is some days. You suck it up and move on.
Come on! You're well-established. You've got a network of contacts, the runner community knows how reliable you are... I'm a little fish in a big pond, here. I blow this job, I may not be able to work in Hong Kong again!

Hell, you don't even *need* the prototype. Just the damn GPS unit on it!
Listen, it's not personal. It's just a job.
If we don't get paid, we'll be just as screwed as you. I know my team, and I don't know you.
I don't like it either. Maybe we can work something out.
Maybe for you. For me, it's life or death for my friends - and maybe me, too. I'm begging you, give me something to work with. You don't have to be like this.

You do me this favor, I can pay you back in the future. You got my word on it.
{{GM}}Racter leans over to whisper to you.{{/GM}}

It's true that we only need the GPS unit. That said, I'm certain I could fix the prototype up so that we could use it in the field. It's your call, though: we can be good samaritans, or keep the weapon for ourselves.
{{GM}}Gaichu leans over to whisper to you.{{/GM}}

It is true that only only need the GPS unit, not the laser itself. But I am certain that we could fix the prototype so that we could use it in the field. A portable laser could be a potent aid.

This is your decision, however.
{{GM}}Gobbet leans over to whisper to you.{{/GM}}

Y'know, I bet we could get that prototype working. We only need the GPS unit, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). I don't like the idea of screwing anybody over.

But I also don't like the idea of *not* having an awesome laser.
{{GM}}Is0bel leans over to whisper to you.{{/GM}}

I can get that laser prototype working again, I promise. I know we only need the GPS, but a laser could be really handy.

It's your call what to do with it, though.
{{GM}}Wu leans over to whisper to you.{{/GM}}

I'm sure we could get that laser working again. We keep it, we might get a nice ace up our sleeves - Kindly said we only needed to worry about the GPS unit.

Then again, I don't want to hang anybody out to dry over a gun. It's your call.
The runner isn't wrong - Kindly said you only needed to worry about the GPS unit attached to the prototype. It's likely that you could get the laser working again if you kept it.

Being owed a favor by another shadowrunner isn't anything to scoff at either.
Okay, maybe we can work something out.
No, I don't think so.
Come on, can't you do anything for me? I dunno, say it got wrecked on the way out? Say we got there first? Maybe tell your contact that we gave YOU the GPS unit? You don't even need the damn laser!

Do me this favor - I'll pay it back, I swear to you.
{{GM}}The Jarl grunts, obviously displeased.{{/GM}}

I know you have a rep to protect... But this is eat or starve for me. It's not just about this job, it's about all the others I won't be able to get if I scrub this one.

You do me a favor, I'll pay it back to you in spades. I can make it worth your while.
Hey, what's with the hard-ass routine? We can both get paid. Mr. Johnson doesn't have any loyalty to you! You're just a disposable asset. He'll screw you the first chance he has, and go home smiling about the money he made.

We're on the same side here! You do me this favor, I'll be sure to pay it back later.
Thanks. I mean it.

I don't like the idea of cheating on a job, but we're on the same team here. We both have to live and work in the same environment.
How about this: we take the laser, you keep the GPS, and nobody's the wiser.

And I'll owe you one. You call it in, I'll help you out - or get friends who can, if I'm tied up.
Okay. We've got a deal. Take it.
That's not good enough for me.
So you keep the GPS, we keep the laser, and everybody wins? Sounds like a good day for runners all around.

I'm not the sort to forget a favor, either. I have friends... Just not here. Call in that favor, we'll help you out.
Here... You give us the laser, you keep the GPS, everybody walks away getting paid and with a happy client. We don't have to worry about going hungry, and you still look like you're on your way to top dog in Hong Kong.

And this is the kind of thing I won't forget. Maybe you need a hand later on, maybe not... But if you do, I can get some out-of-town favors called in, and bring you some backup.
So... You get the GPS, I get to bring my client the laser? I can't give you a cut of the money - I got my own debts to pay - but I know a lot of people in our line of work. They travel to Hong Kong for out of town clients pretty regularly. If I owe you a favor, they owe you a favor... You scan me?

Some day when you need backup, I can get them to you. Maybe help you out like you helped us out. We have a deal?
Listen, I just got my ass out of the Chicago Containment Zone with the promise of work. I have friends back there that need to get out, and for that I need money. If I scrub this run, they might die in there!

Cut me a break. You don't need that prototype anyway. All you need is the GPS!
It's tough out here for new runners. If you don't know people, nobody will give you the time of day. I lucked out getting this job at all. Without a success on my first run in Hong Kong, I'm dead in the water. I won't work again in this city - at least not anything I'd consider "work".

All you need is that GPS unit. You take that, we take the weapon, everybody walks away happy.
Let me lay it out for you... You're a known face in Hong Kong. I'm not. If I can't deliver results on my first run out here, nobody will take me seriously. I'm gonna get stuck collecting payments from corner store cashiers and stuff. Can't you cut me a break?

You only need the GPS unit. I need the unit itself. We can both come out on top.
It's simple. We've got the laser in our posession, so it's ours. You don't hold onto the cake, you don't get a slice. It's that simple.

Sorry. But that's the way it is.
Yeah, about that... You know how possession is nine tenths of the law? Bailing your ass out is the other tenth. So we keep the prototype and you have to find another job.

Don't feel too bad, there's plenty of work here in the Free Enterprise Zone.
Tough shit. We have to look after ourselves before we give handouts to people we don't know.

You want another job, though, maybe I can hook you up. I know a lot of people in the city.
Need is a subjective quality, based on the point of view of the observer. Your needs, to me, are ephemeral. My needs, however, are concrete.

We keep the weapon, and you go about your business. Anything else would be farcical.
There's nothing to discuss. I need it to complete my job.
Everybody needs to get paid. That includes me.
Whoa, whoa. There's still a pretty huge elephant in the room, here.

What about the prototype? Who gets it?
What are you talking about? Poison gas, Knight-Errant guards, a running gunfight... There should be a sim based on this run.

You can't buy that kind of rush!
Opti, I don't think I've ever met anyone who's as much of an adrenaline junkie as you.

{{GM}}Dizzy shakes her head, disbelief plastered across her face. After a moment, she turns to you.{{/GM}}

So what now? We just march through the basement into the Central MTR station?
That was nastier than I expected, too. I knew it was Ares, but even so... At least we're out of the main facility, though.

It could have been a lot worse.
I'm with you there, Jarl. Any run you can walk away from is a good one, in my book.

{{GM}}Dizzy turns to face you, one fist on her hip.{{/GM}}

So what now? We just march through the basement into the Central MTR station?
At least we managed to walk away in mostly one piece. I'll take that over the alternative.

So what now? We just march through the basement into the Central MTR station?
That was nastier than I expected. I knew it was Ares, but even so... Poison gas? Remind me never to do that again.

Next time, I'm bringing more ammo.
To hell with that, Jarl. Next time, I'm bringing a goddamn assault cannon.

{{GM}}Bull glances at his revolver ruefully.{{/GM}}

The old six-gun just doesn't cut it when you go up against Knight-Errant.
Well, you wanna go down that road, I won't stop you. I might make fun of you for carting one around, though.

{{GM}}The Jarl turns to face you.{{/GM}}

So now we just have to get to the central MTR station, yeah?
{{GM}}Opti twists his neck to one side, vertebrae popping loudly.{{/GM}}

Are you kidding me, Jarl? That's the kind of job worth doing! Hell, junkies pay ten nuyen a chip to get that kind of rush!
You'll note I'm not a BTL junkie, though. And I like having all my limbs attached and in relatively good condition. I'm in it for the money, not the rush.

{{GM}}The Jarl turns to face you.{{/GM}}

So now we just have to get to the central MTR station, yeah?
{{GM}}The Jarl produces a handkerchief from his back pocket, wiping off his face.{{/GM}}

So now we just have to get to the central MTR station, yeah?
That was a rush! Poison gas, Knight-Errant guards, a running gunfight... There should be a sim based on this run!

And the best part? I'm still mostly in one piece!
Can it, Opti. Jarl and Dizzy didn't make it out. As far as I'm concerned, that means this run went sideways, and *hard*.

I didn't know them that well, but they were still part of the team.
Yeah, yeah... I guess you have a point. But we'd only known them what, two weeks?

{{GM}}Opti turns and nods toward you.{{/GM}}

What now? We make a run for the MTR station?
So what do we do now? We make a run for the MTR station?
I swear to god, I'm never running against Ares again unless I've got an assault cannon with me. The old six-gun just won't cut it against guards like that. Not to mention the gas.

So now what? We just have to make a run for the MTR station?
Ahh, here we are! Safely out of the poison gas and ready to make our escape.

{{GM}}Racter claps his hands together excitedly.{{/GM}}

*And* we have a laser! What a wonderful development.
{{GM}}Gobbet winces, sticking her pinky into one ear.{{/GM}}

God, so much dust fell in my ear on the way down, I think I could pour water into it and make concrete.
{{GM}}Is0bel's face is squished into an irritable frown.{{/GM}}

Stupid runners. They should have been able to make it out of there in one piece... Can't believe they all got killed.

Amateurs.
Well, that was nasty. Let's not get gassed and have to shoot our way out of an Ares building again, okay?

We'd better get a move on, though... They'll be right behind us soon enough.
{{GM}}Gaichu cocks his head and sniffs the air. After a moment, he nods in satisfaction.{{/GM}}

I hear movement. They are following us, but we have a few moments to catch our breath. Still, it will not be long before they make their way down here.
Well, crap. I guess you have to do what you think is right.

{{GM}}Bull sighs, rubbing his hands over his face.{{/GM}}

I guess there's nothing to do but try for another job.
I can't pretend to be happy about your decision, but... No hard feelings, okay? I know how it goes.

It's tough out there for everybody.
Listen, you go ahead. I'll head the other way, so we'll be less conspicuous once we get out of the collapsed area.

Keep safe, okay?
You take the west exit, I'll take the east. That way it'll be harder for those Ares goons to track both of us down.

Don't take any chances, ok? Stay frosty.
We should split up, honestly. It'll make it harder for Knight-Errant to track us down. You follow your plan... I'll head the other way through the collapsed station.

Be careful out there.
Let's split up. I don't want Knight-Errant to be able to track us, and a big group will make a lot of noise. I'll head in the opposite direction from you, make my own way out.

Keep your eyes open, hey?
Shit. Well, thanks for getting us out of the building, but I can't say I'm happy about having to tell my client I haven't got the laser.

I hope it's worth it for you.
Yeah. Yeah, I guess I understand. We all have to safeguard our reputations, and yours is a lot more well known than mine.

Thanks for getting us out of the building. I hope the payday is worth it.
Yeah, yeah... It's tough for everybody these days. Thanks for giving me a hand out of there, but I really wish we'd been able to work something out.

All the same, no hard feelings. It's the nature of the work.
{{GM}}The Jarl takes the prototype from you, detaching the GPS tracker and handing it back to you.{{/GM}}

Excellent. I'll make sure nobody hears about this deal - at least not on my end.

So what now? Do you want us to leave, or can we stick with you until we get to the MTR station?
No sense in dividing our forces. Come with us.
It's safer if we split up. We're less likely to attract notice.
Sounds good to me. Lead the way.
That makes sense. Keep your eyes open, okay?

And good luck!
{{GM}}Bull takes the prototype from you, detaching the GPS tracker and handing it back to you.{{/GM}}

Thanks again - I really mean it. This win means I'll probably be able to help out my friends back in Chicago.

So what now? Do you want us to leave, or can we stick with you until we get to the MTR station?
{{GM}}Dizzy takes the prototype from you, detaching the GPS tracker and handing it back to you.{{/GM}}

Awesome! We both get what we want out of this deal. It's rare for that to be able to happen, in the shadows.

So what now? Do you want us to leave, or can we stick with you until we get to the MTR station?
{{GM}}Opti takes the prototype from you, detaching the GPS tracker and handing it back to you.{{/GM}}

You, $(l.sir), are a real stand up individual.

So what now? Do you want us to leave, or can we stick with you until we get to the MTR station?
Stealth Rigger
For that professional rigger look.
Blaster 3.0
An area-effect Matrix attack that deals -100 IP DMG to IC and deckers.
A breath of fire that does -8 HP DMG and does -4 HP DMG that last for 2 RNDS.
Ruger Thunderbolt (Smartlink)
Pistol: Lone Star's favorite heavy pistol. Capable of a powerful burst fire mode. Includes an integral Smartlink system.
Your workstation and mission computer.

The cool blue tones of the workstation's main menu fill the screen.
A blinking message in the upper-right corner notifies you that you have $(scene.numUnreadMessages) unread messages.
{{GM}}Check your inbox for new messages.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read your old messages.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Open the Jobs directory.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Access the Shadowland BBS.{{/GM}}
You have $(scene.numUnreadMessages) unread messages.
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>WELCOME TO HEOI {{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>YOUR MISSION COMPUTER{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>RESOURCES{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>SERIAL KILLER{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>FWD: ARTIFACT LIBERATION{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>GEOMANTIC SABOTAGE{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[VID]>>ABOUT THOSE DREAMS...{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>ATTENDING A PARTY{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>RAYMOND BLACK'S HISTORY{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>OPPORTUNITY{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>URGENT TASK{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>RESTAURANT JOB{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>MOTHER'S NOTES{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>AUNTIE CHENG AND JOSEPHINE{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>MORE NOTES{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>URGENT PROBLEM{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>OUT OF TOWN{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>DATA RETRIEVAL{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>PROBLEM SOLVED{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>YO CARNIVORE{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[VID] >>JOB OFFER FROM IS0BEL{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>RED SAMURAI AMBUSH{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>GIANT LIZARD FREIGHTER BOOM{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>GREAT MEETING YOU!{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>HOPE IT HELPS{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>THANKS!{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>DAMAGED{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>OUT!{{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>NOT TODAY{{/GM}}
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Welcome to Heoi

$(l.name),

On behalf of your friends at The Heoi Chamber of Commerce and the Swift Winds Mahjong Parlor, I welcome you to the community of Heoi and to our new business venture.
I have already lined up three jobs for you. The details of each are contained in a separate computer message. Remember to check your messages often as I will update you with new opportunities as they occur.

-Auntie C.
>>From: Is0bel
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Your Mission Computer

Hey, $(l.name). I've set up your mission computer to automatically collect and collate news reports, information and media that might be of interest to you. Some of the keywords I've got it trolling for are things like "Raymond," "Duncan," "Walled City," et cetera.
I've also patched in a permanent link up to the Hong Kong shard of the Shadowlands BBS. It's a great place to connect with other runners, sell paydata, get news from the street, and so on. Don't be shy about taking a look.

-Is0bel
>>From: Bao JianJun
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Resources

I have been instructed to inform you of the various suppliers present in Heoi.

Auntie Cheng has cultivated a commercial district of well-stocked and trustworthy vendors. Whoever you choose to do business with, you will be in good hands.
Ermine Ka Fai at Club 88 is an excellent resource for acquiring additional weapons, should you require any.

If you are in need of magical supplies, go to the Parlor of Five Phases.

If you desire training in the path of the adept, seek out Spider Shen. She can help you, as well as supply you with any close-quarters weapons that you might desire.
Chrome Alley can supply you with cybernetic enhancements and medical supplies. The proprietor, Ten-Armed Ambrose, is a cybersurgeon of some repute.

Law's Techno Palace is a Whampoan-run supplier of the local decking community. The place is hard to miss, just look for a sign glowing in the sky.

If you need drones, Reliable Matthew's Robot Bazaar is your best bet, and I pity you.
Considering the disrespect that you seem content to casually spew, I would suggest that you acquire a small arsenal.

You are more than likely to need it.

-Mr. Bao
Best of luck in the shadows. As fresh meat, you are likely to need it.

-Strangler Bao
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Serial Killer

I've got a problem, $(l.name), and you're going to help me solve it.

I do a lot of business with the Whampoans. If you're not familiar with the term, I'll forgive you... you are an outsider, after all.
The Whampoans are a tribe of techno-fetishists and deckers who've taken up residence in the Whampoa Garden area of Hong Kong. They make and trade high-tech goods to people from all over the world.

A lot of nuyen passes through their pasty little fingers, and I make a lot of money brokering deals between them and the smugglers here in Heoi.
I've hit a snag, though. The Whampoan Elders - their council of leaders - are being eliminated by a serial killer. They've asked me to dispatch someone to get to the bottom of it and stop the killings - and they're not taking their goods through my turf until I do.

So you're going to be my proxy, dear. I don't care how you do it, but I need those murders stopped.
The Whampoans have delegate here in Heoi by the name of Maximum Law. Speak with him if you wish to know about Whampoa.

He's got a big mouth, but he knows very little of importance. Don't expect much from that half-empty bottle of vinegar.
You get your ass down to Whampoa Garden and talk to the Elders. Lie, cheat, and steal if you have to - so long as they're convinced that there won't be any more murders.

I want my cut back, and I want it soon.
{{GM}}Take the run.{{/GM}}
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Re: Serial Killer

Good. I'll tell the Elders you're coming.

They don't like outsiders, and they might shoot at you if I don't warn them that you'll be arriving.
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Fwd: Artifact Liberation

Welcome to the shadows, $(l.name). I've received a request from an archaeologist named Mr. Drake. He's interested in liberating certain artifacts from beneath a manor house located in Tai Po.

I've attached a copy of the video message that he sent me.
{{GM}}The screen flickers a few times, and the email is replaced with the face of a stern-looking ork.{{/GM}}

Hello, madam Cheng. I've heard that you're a woman who knows how to get things done, especially with regards to things that aren't legal in the strictest sense.

That's exactly the kind of help I'm looking for.
Recently, a rich investor by the name of Liu Hua decided to expand his manor house on the outskirts of Tai Po. Too much money, not enough space for fancy parties. He hit a snag with local government officials, however - they suspected the land his estate was built on may have premodern archaeological artifacts buried beneath it, all of them dating from the Song Dynasty.

Consequently, I was contracted as an archaeologist to oversee the excavations and ensure everything was properly recorded and cataloged.
Sure enough, we were only a few days into the excavation when we discovered a series of tombs lying beneath the site. The scope of the tombs was far beyond anything Liu or I had expected - several acres of catacombs, at least, and untouched relics throughout. What's more, they're certainly older than the Song Dynasty - they may even be from the previous cycle of magic.

Before I could make my report to the Free Enterprise Zone authorities, however, Liu called in his allies in Tan Tien Incorporated.
Liu sold the entire site to Tan Tien, who then leased it back to him. Because Tan Tien is considered to have extraterritoriality in Hong Kong, local authorities were powerless to stop Liu from looting the tombs. He immediately began building a museum - if you can call it that - atop the site.

He had the gall to call his museum 'The Emperor's Tomb' - can you believe that? The odds of there being an *actual* emperor buried there are basically nil, but he doesn't care! Anything to sell a few tickets.
Liu has continued his excavations, using Tan Tien contractors to expand the dig. What he didn't know is that I bugged his commlink before he fired me.

Based on what I've heard, something strange is going on in the lower levels. Workers have been disappearing, only to be found dead several days later. Whatever is down there is too dangerous to be left in Liu's hands.
Liu must have found my dataline tap, though - I stopped receiving any information three days ago. The last thing I heard him talking about were a pair of ancient texts that workers had discovered. Then he issued an order that further excavation should be halted until he can secure the subterranean areas.

I'm betting those texts are the cause of whatever's killing the workers.
I have quite a bit of experience with these kinds of dangerous excavations, but an operation of this scale is beyond me. I need a team that's tough enough to get in and survive, aren't afraid of making a mess, and who can get out with the books and whatever else they can carry.
Beyond the two texts, I'm willing to pay very well for whatever other artifacts your team can liberate - the more valuable, the better. Don't worry, they'll be going to *actual* museums, not some rich playboy's mansion.

I've got a second program in place that'll suppress Liu's security system. The team will have to be careful, though - there are only so many alarms I can suppress. Go beyond that number, and I'll scrub the mission.
I've included a catalog of likely items to help the team appraise the most valuable ones. They don't need to be subtle - in fact, I'd prefer they make it look like a common robbery. Tell them to smash and grab what they can.

Let me know when you find a suitable group of shadowrunners.
There you have it - a nice, simple robbery. Do you think you can handle something that basic, dear? I have faith in you.

Let me know when you're ready to proceed. I'll contact Mr. Drake when you're on your way.
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Re: Fwd: Artifact Liberation

Excellent. I've attached directions to Liu's estate to this message.

Good luck. Don't fuck it up.
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Geomantic Sabotage

Geomancy is big business in the Free Enterprise Zone. Here in Hong Kong, feng shui isn't just the act of rearranging your kitchen to make things look pretty. The fortunes of empires rise and fall with the ebb and flow of qi. And sometimes, that flow needs a helping hand.
Wuxing, Incorporated are the preeminent practitioners of large-scale qi manipulation here in the Free Enterprise Zone. They've gone to great lengths to channel qi from all over Hong Kong into their headquarters, an enormous monstrosity that they call the Wuxing Skytower. There, it is focused and transformed into good fortune through the building's geomantically-attuned architecture and interior decoration.

Our client believes that it is time for Wuxing's good luck to run out.
You are to infiltrate the Skytower and disrupt the flow of qi throughout the building, but you are to do so in two distinct fashions.

First, you must disrupt the feng shui of the offices by subtly altering the environment of that level. This will consist of minor adjustments of desks, spilled water, and other small activities that are unlikely to be noticed.
Ordinarily, even subtle disturbances of this nature would be noticed. This is why the client wishes you to make a much louder demonstration on the rooftop garden.

The garden is to be ransacked. Utterly destroyed. Set fire to things, uproot trees, that kind of thing. Our client has also specified that he would like you to destroy the large Buddhist statue in the garden - smash the thing to bits and leave them scattered across the rooftop.
This level of destruction will keep Wuxing's geomancers busy long enough that the more subtle disruptions below will take effect. In addition, it will send the kind of message our client would like Wuxing to hear.
I have utmost faith in your ability to cause destruction. The more disruption you can cause on both levels of the Skytower, the happier the client will be.

Given your own skills with magic, you should have an easy time identifying the most effective ways to disrupt the qi of the building.
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Re: Geomantic Sabotage

Good. Contact me when you've finished the job, and I'll send you your cut of the payment.
I have utmost faith in your ability to cause destruction. The more disruption you can cause on both levels of the Skytower, the happier the client will be.

As you're not a spellcaster yourself, it may be wise to bring Gobbet along. She will be able to see the most effective ways to disrupt the qi of the building.
Gobbet's face winks onto the screen.

Her rats are perched precariously on her head, and she holds a laser pointer clutched between her thumb and forefinger.
Oh, hey, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)... I hope that I didn't catch you at a bad time.

{{GM}}She flicks the laser pointer, and her rats' heads swivel to the right to follow the motion.{{/GM}}

...Why did I just say that? This is a recording. It doesn't matter if it's a bad time.
Well, uh, anyway. I was thinking about that talk that we had. Y'know, the dream talk, about the nightmares, and stuff.

{{GM}}Another flick of the pointer. The rats' heads turn left, their noses twitching.{{/GM}}

I've got a friend here in town. She runs the Parlor of Five Phases... it's sort of our local magic-shop-and-talismonger. Name's Crafty.
{{GM}}Flick. The rats' heads turn upward to stare at the ceiling.{{/GM}}

Anyway, she's smart - really smart. Her mom was sort of a local authority on all things magical, and the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

If you wanted to ask anyone in town about these dreams, she'd be the right one to choose.
She taps a button on the laser pointer with her thumb, and the little red dot in the tip goes dark.

The rats immediately tackle one another, rolling off her head and falling out of sight.
{{GM}}She gets up, her head rising out of frame.{{/GM}}

Anyway, just thought it might help. If you've already been talking to Crafty, please disregard this message.
All right, I'm out. Peace.

{{GM}}She punches a button, and the screen goes dark.{{/GM}}
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Attending a Party

$(l.name), I need you to come to the parlor. A friend and business partner of mine named Dr. Shenyang has need of your services - something about attending a fancy party in Repulse Bay. He was unwilling to give me the details.

I think he wanted to size you up himself.
>>From: Is0bel
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Raymond Black's History

Duncan asked me to do some digging on my own into Raymond's history - I guess he doesn't trust Kindly Cheng to give him the full story. I can't say I blame him, since she'd hide things from us if it was in her best interest to do so. So I've been poking around various corners of the Matrix, trying to dig up what I can.
Most SINners leave a datatrail the size of an aircraft carrier in their wake. Working backward in time, Raymond starts out that way, but it slowly tapers away into nothingness.

Sure, I can find some basic records in Seattle - power, utilities, a couple of public discussion sites he signed up for. But the further back I get, the less I find.

And the craziest part is this: prior to 2032, I can't find anything *at all* - and that shouldn't be possible. It's like Raymond didn't exist before then.

I don't know. I'm going to keep digging, but it'll take me a while. I'll let you know when I get some news worth sharing.

- Is0bel
>>//-preface.bypassed-

yo come see me if you have a chance i have a trade opportunity - maximum

***
Maximum Law / Matrix: Whampoa Integrated Hub, 01941-1-10uC13 / Meat: Law's Technology Palace

"Done is what happens when I rain the fire." - Ultrathon Visigoth, Judge of Titan
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Urgent Task

Little birds have been whispering in my ear about an urgent and high-paying run. Steel Arm Lu, a Red Pole, managed to get his hands on information concerning a prototype laser weapon in development by Ares Asia Holdings.
For years, the Yellow Lotus and the Red Dragon have been locked in a cold war. Despite this, we remain evenly matched. Neither one of us can attack the other without being exposed to devastating reprisals.

Lu wants to change this, and he has a plan.
Rather than strike directly, Lu intends to aim external forces at the Red Dragon - specifically, Knight-Errant. He intends to frame a White Paper Fan named Golden Fong, making it appear that the Red Dragon have been bribing Ares researchers for classified data.

Two leading drone and energy weapons researchers have recently transferred from London to Hong Kong, and are running the project.
Drs. Taylor and Hardingham were respected in Europe, but in Hong Kong they remain unknown quantities. They're untrusted, and therefore are considered untrustworthy - perfect targets, in other words.

We will provide data that will make it look as if the researchers were contacted by Golden Fong and made quite a bit of money, but grew tired of the arrangement.
Transfer the attached files to a datachip. The files are bundled with a worm program which will auto-execute when inserted into the appropriate systems - you need not bring a decker, though one may be helpful.
You will need to plant data in the visitor records system, the camera systems in Hardingham and Taylor's lab, financial data is to be transferred to Dr. Taylor's personal terminal.

That in and of itself will not be enough to ensure Knight Errant involvement, however. Planting the data is only the first part of your task. This is where a heavier touch will be required.
You will also need to steal the prototype laser weapon. There is a GPS tracking device attached to it, which Lu will plant deep in Red Dragon territory. The apparent theft of a prototype weapon by a disgruntled triad member should convince Ares to dispatch overwhelming force against the Red Dragon, dealing them a vicious blow.

As a note, Lu does not care what becomes of the laser weapon. If you wish to sell it or keep it, feel free.
I have also attached a map of your extraction route from the building. During the facility's expansion in 2052, Ares Asia was forced to extend their foundations deeper into the island. They drove piles through the former site of the Central MTR station, which partially collapsed during the Dalu Bay earthquake of 2044.

Practically, this means that you can exit through the basement, directly onto the new MTR line through Central. With any luck, you can be gone without anyone knowing how.
Unfortunately, this route is heavily alarmed, so you will be forced to go in the front door. If you can con the front desk, you should have no problems - the facility is both an office and a residence, so strange people coming and going at odd hours is not unusual.

If you're not up to fast talk, however, be prepared to shoot your way in.
Lu does not care if you are loud or quiet. But a word of caution: he came by all this information via the loose lips of one of the research team. Other fixers know of this job. Move fast, and you are guaranteed success - but there are definitely other shadowrunners with an eye on your prize.
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Re: Urgent Task

Very well. Steel Arm Lu sends his regards, and 'bids you good fortune and plentiful ammunition.' The dramatic git.

Don't die, $(l.name). Our arrangement has been very profitable so far, and I would hate to lose that.
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Restaurant Job

One of the things I've learned over the years is that even the rich and powerful have annoyances - thorns in their side, if you will.

No one is without troubles. The rich just have different ways of solving them.
The client for this run has grown tired of one particular thorn in his side: Cheung-Sing 'Rooster' Lo. Lo is a Red Pole for one of the smaller triads here in Hong Kong, the 289s - or the 'Easy Money' gang, if you prefer. Despite the 289s small stature, Lo's illegal activities have managed to damage the client's profits.

Mr. Johnson would like you to help him show Lo the error of his ways.
Lo takes an evening every few months to dine at the Shangri-La Restaurant in Aberdeen. If you aren't aware, the Shangri-La is an elite establishment, serving primarily corporate clientele from Wuxing, Incorporated. Because of this, it's not unusual for diners to bring bodyguards or assistants with them. In Lo's case, he brings a particularly brutish enforcer known as The Talon, and undoubtedly feels well-protected.

You are going to prove just how wrong he is, in this regard.
You are to kidnap Rooster Lo. So long as he is alive and in relatively good health, all options are on the table. While keeping the run quiet would make things easier for Mr. Johnson, no one will shed too many tears over a few dead triad thugs.

The client has arranged an exit via boat - so long as you can get Lo from the interior to the restaurant's dock, the client will handle everything else.
Despite being a Red Pole, Lo is a tactician, not a fighter. Don't expect him to put up much of a fight.

The Talon, on the other hand, is as nasty as they come. Be careful about how you confront him, or things may go very badly.
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Re: Restaurant Job

I've let the client know you've accepted the job. By the time you arrive at the Shangri-La, the boat to get you out will be waiting.
>>From: Crafty Xu
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Mother's Notes

Hey $(l.name), here are those notes you asked for. But before you dive in, a heads up: they’re a complete transcription of that list from my mother's journal. As in, they’re the thoughts and ramblings of an insane woman. It’s not an easy read.
Another dream. This time it was a near-figure – a shadow – a wraith. Faceless. I heard its voice, though it did not speak. And when I awoke, I was inside my home, though I had been in the City just moments before. Where am I?

A weight dropped into me, I felt the words of the wraith in my skin, in the tips of my hair. I saw its mouth in my mind’s eye – rows and rows and rows of… lies!
Morning. My hand was to the paper before I even knew I was writing. It wrote the words, these words: “They cannot lie.” I added it to my list.

Evening. Was it a King I saw? Was I really there? I was in the City, I’m sure of it. Then how did I end up here? Was I carried back?
My list is growing. Soon, with this knowledge, I will *stop* the Kings.

-A step forward is a step backward. A step backward is a step forward.
-Each wraith has a name. A true name, and a false name. Knowing their true name is knowing their weakness.
-To call them on their lies is to make yourself invincible. They will still try to eat you.
-They fear the feathers of unborn chicks.
-Kings must be one, or the other. That is, of the negative world, or positive. But positive doesn’t necessarily make them good, nor negative make them bad. They simply are.
-Once a deal is brokered, it cannot be unmade.
-Kings and the planets are closely connected. When nearest the sun, their power wanes. When farthest, it grows
-There is only one wraith. There is only one wraith. There may be two wraiths, but there is most certainly only one wraith.
-They must follow the laws of the universe. Rules set in motion long ago. Should they concede defeat, all is lost to them.
-Kings are the rulers of us all. They take from us their lifeblood, and with it parts of our souls. Do not give them what they seek, and you will be their match.
-They cannot lie.
Morning. I made breakfast. It fell on the floor in the shape of my death. Another truth revealed to me – I added it to my list.

-It’s all or nothing. They are all liars.
Another dream. It was in white space. I could taste the color as if it were air. This time, no voice. Just rows and rows and rows… and rows and rows and rows and rows and rows…
A mess, I know. There’s not a whole lot of significant material other than what I already picked out, but even that is contradicted within Mom’s notes. Everything should be taken with a grain of salt. Meantime, I’ll keep looking into it. Good luck on your end.

- Crafty
>>From: Gobbet
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Auntie Cheng and Josephine

Hey $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname),

I think I can add a little context to that thing between Auntie and Josephine Tsang - you know, the thing that makes Auntie hit the sauce and talk revenge. This a combo of stuff I heard and stuff I put together myself, so your mileage may vary.
For years, the Yellow Lotus acted as tax collectors within the Walled City. Since the Walled City was built by Josephine Tsang, and the Yellow Lotus was run by Auntie Cheng, they must’ve had a working business relationship... for a while, at least.

From what Nightjar told me (he was her favorite - you got that, right?), Auntie was known as a real up-and-comer back then. She was on the fast track to be the next Yellow Lotus 438... that’s a big-deal gig, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). Money and power galore.
Now, you need to know that there were a lot of triads and corps doing biz in the Walled City. All sorts of stuff. Sometimes they work together nicely, and sometimes people get bloody.

The way that I heard it, Auntie came up with some sort of grand plan to consolidate business in the Walled City. The power would be split between the Yellow Lotus and Tsang’s company, and everyone else would get cut out. If her plan worked, Auntie would rise in the Lotus like nobody’s business, and Josephine Tsang would make long bank.
There was a catch, though. In order for the plan to work, both women would need to jump through a LOT of hoops. There'd be street-level maneuvering and power-plays on Auntie’s side, and blackmail and negotiations on the corporate level from Josephine Tsang.

My info gets sketchy here. From what I've pieced together, Tsang went behind Auntie's back and took her plan to her boss, a 438 named Wong Lun Fat. They cut Kindly out of her own plan.
Why’d Tsang do that? My guess is that she saw Auntie as some sort of threat. People in the know say that Wong Lun Fat is weak and greedy - she can be manipulated if her palm remains well-greased.
Long story short: power WAS consolidated in the Walled City, just like Auntie planned. Only she didn't wind up getting any of it. Her climb up the Lotus ladder came to an abrupt halt; she's still a Straw Sandal, just like she was before Tsang backstabbed her. And now she’s stuck in Heoi like a fly in amber.

I’d be pissed too, if it were me.

-Gobbet
>>From: Crafty Xu
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: More Notes

$(l.name),

While I was blazing through my mom’s journals, something struck me: we’ve spent so much time reading about the Walled City that we haven’t thought to *look* at it. To paint a picture with the information we’ve been gathering.
So I contacted a friend of mine – Rylie, a decker – and asked her to pull some data for me. Her results were surprising, and for what it's worth, I think we’re onto something.

Rylie dug up records of things like reported sleep disturbances, psychotics breaks, HKPF responses to cult activities, etc. She found that they all form a classic bullseye heat pattern around the Walled City. She couldn’t find any data from within the Walled City itself, but the outside data was still enough to establish the pattern inside the slum.
This has got to be more than a coincidence. It’s too unnatural to be attributed to anything else. I don’t know what it means yet, but I’ve got my nose to the books. I’ll let you know when I find out.

One other thing. That last email I sent you... the one with my mother’s notes... I went ahead and reread it, and that took me back to the source text, and I was able to pull something else from her list.
This isn't much, but it seems to be pretty consistent across her ramblings. If I'm reading it right, it's kind of like a set of rules that govern the interactions of the Yama Kings. It's surprisingly bureaucratic if I'm reading it right.

The most interesting tidbit is this: there's something here about the Kings being unable to back down in a deal. It's like, if they give an inch, they forfeit everything.
From what I'm reading, the Yama Kings have their own code of laws, but they don't have to follow them unless you know how to call them on it. Like, they break the rules all the time, but if you can't cite chapter and verse on which rule they're breaking, it doesn't matter to them. Approach from a place of wisdom, though, and you can bind them with their own laws.
Anyway. This is all really arcane stuff, but I think that there might be something here. I can’t vouch for any of it, obviously... when you take a step back, it all sounds like crazy-talk. But one thing that I can tell you for certain: my mother believed it was true.

If anything else comes up, you’ll be the first to know.

- Crafty
>>From: Bao JianJun
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Urgent Problem

We have a problem to solve. It is urgent. Meet me at the mahjong parlor. Kindly's orders.

Strangler Bao
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Out of Town

I'm not in Heoi right now, so don't bother coming to see me. We'll talk when I return. Please continue with our business ventures in the meantime.

- Auntie C.
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Data Retrieval

I hope you're enjoying your newfound success in the shadows. I've got another job for you - one that should prove very lucrative indeed. I've been contacted by an employee of the Eastern Tiger Corporation, and he needs you to steal some research data and biological samples from his employer.
The man's name is Tigath Wright. Until recently, he was a researcher on a genetic engineering project - he was cagey with the details, but I gather that it centered around phenotypic alteration and post-natal genetic enhancement.

Unfortunately for Wright, he's got a conscience. Stupid man. Luckily for us, he's willing to pay to have his conscience assuaged.
Wright's project was apparently quite horrible - experiments on living children, total disregard for biomedical ethics or safety, and when Wright raised concerns, he was taken off the project. He's decided to step outside the bounds of the law and expose their 'wrongdoing' to the world.

The snag, you see, is that his wife and child live in Seoul - not quite the heart of Eastern Tiger's power, but close enough.
He's afraid that if he releases the information himself, they'll be taken prisoner and used as leverage. The idiot should have thought of that before, but that's not our problem.

The samples and data are currently on an Eastern Tiger cargo ship - the MV Nalchi - sailing near Hong Kong, on their way to Seoul. The storm's slowed the ship down, so you don't have to go right away, but don't take too long.
Once you have the data and samples, you're to call Wright - I've attached his number. He'll give you instructions on how he wants the information leaked.

When you're ready, let me know. I'll arrange transit with Captain Jomo. He's a local Loho-Jowah pirate and smuggler, but don't let that put you off. He's as good as they get, and he'll have you on that ship without incident.
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Re: Data Retrieval

I've let Captain Jomo know you're ready. You can find him down on the end of the pier my parlor is on. He'll handle everything from there on out.
>>From: Bao JianJun
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Problem Solved

I see that you have solved the problem. Kindly will be pleased.

-Strangler Bao
>>From: Bao JianJun
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Problem Solved

Since you could not handle this simple task, I have done so myself. Your performance is disappointing.

-Strangler Bao
>>//-preface:null_field
>>//-[sender]:server_id:null_field

yo $(L.name). i'm outta here. shoot straight carnivore. look for me on shadowland: tin helmet is my handle. my email spoofing's pretty wicked, huh?

thanks. maximum law
A recording of Is0bel pops onto the screen.

She stares into the camera, her eyes full of intensity.
If you're watching this, you've decided to listen to my job offer.

That's a good thing. I wasn't convinced that you would.
Our target is a local decker - a former Whampoan. In the Matrix, his handle is "Rhombus."

He has the software that we need. Unfortunately, he's unassailable from the Matrix, and nobody knows where he lives in meatspace. But I know where he's going to be.
There's an event coming up that Rhombus can't afford to miss. He might already be on his way there.

As you're reading this message, deckers from all over Asia - White Hat and Black Hat alike - are converging on the Harbour Spires hotel. This year, Harbour Spires is hosting DeckCon, Hong Kong's largest annual decking convention.
Rhombus is going to be there, and that gives us an opportunity. We're going to hit the convention, find him in meatspace, and get the software away from him... and we're going to do it quietly.

Enclosed you will find a copy of the plan that I've worked out for the run, presented in bullet-point format. Everything should be fairly straightforward.
Is0bel's image winks off of the screen, replaced by a blinking cursor.

As you watch, the screen begins to fill with lines of simple instructions.
*I will provide you and one other runner of your choice with visitor passes for the convention.
-I will proceed ahead of you using my own guest badge.
*I will hide in the women's lavatory on the first floor.
*You will enter via the kitchen and procure me a uniform from the catering staff.
-Please be sure that the uniform is size 4.
*We will rendezvous, I will change into the uniform, and, using it, I will infiltrate the administrative wing on the 6th floor.
*You will proceed into the convention hall and await further instructions.
*Using the admin computer, I will identify Rhombus via his guest registration form.
-Once I have done this, I will alert you via commlink.
*I will upgrade your badge to VIP status, granting you access to the VIP wing of the hotel.
*You will tell Rhombus that he has been granted VIP status, and offer to escort him to a complimentary hotel room.
-You will escort him to a room that I designate and hold him there.
-I will jack out of the Matrix and make my way from the admin wing to your room.
-We will intimidate Rhombus/beat the tar out of him until he gives us the software.
*We will tie and gag Rhombus and stuff him into a storage closet.
-We will not be gentle.
-It's okay if he starts crying.
-Actually, pls. prioritize this. I want to see tears.
*Software in tow, we will make our escape.
The glowing text fades, and Is0bel winks back onto the screen.
See? It's a simple plan, just like I said. We should be able to get through it without firing a shot.

So. Will you do it? Will you help me to get the software I need?
{{GM}}The pre-recorded footage of Is0bel winks off of the screen. A real-time feed of her Matrix avatar replaces it.{{/GM}}

Excellent. I knew that I could count on you.

Saddle up, $(l.name). This is going to be fun.
>>From: Gaichu
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Red Samurai Ambush

This email is to reiterate the information on my former team, which I shared with you earlier. In short, I need to kill the remaining members of my previous unit, so that I can be free of their perpetual hunt.
There is a client who wishes to be extracted from Renraku and his death faked. He is a researcher on an experimental drone project, and the secrecy surrounding that project will definitely warrant a Red Samurai response.

We can enter the facility in Tolo Harbour, steal the drone, and prepare an ambush for my former unit. It should be very cut and dry, all things considered.
The Red Samurai team will be lead by my former commander, Ishida. With him are Sasaki, the mage, and Takagawa, the sniper. There is also a newer heavy gunner, but I am unsure of who he is or what his capabilities are. He will certainly be armed with a very high capacity machine gun, however.
>>From: Gaichu
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Red Samurai ambush

Excellent. The sooner we can be done with this, the happier I will be. I will prepare my gear.
>>//-preface:null_field
>>//-[sender]:server_id:null_field

yo $(L.name) you wouldn't believe where i am and how much people are betting on this fight between an awakened giant lizard thing and a pit bull. i'm gonna hitch a freighter to seattle. catch you later carnivore.

maximum law
>>From: Dreamland
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Great meeting you!

Thanks for shaking me down to get that neural inhibitor program I wrote. It’s always refreshing to be physically intimidated in your own apartment. How could I ever forget it?

The answer is, I won’t!
It may not be today... it might not even be soon... but one day, you’ll regret strong-arming me. I guarantee it. The same goes for Is0bel, too.

I know how to make her Matrix life a lot less comfortable. I think that it’ll make for a nice surprise someday.

- D.
>>From: Dreamland
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Hope It Helps

Good luck with your whole, “What happened to my father?” thing. Rough deal.

If nothing else, I hope the people responsible get what’s coming to them and that my neural inhibitor program helps you get some payback.

- D.
>>From: Dreamland
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Thanks!

Just wanted to say thanks for the hook up with Rhombus. Is0bel was right, he was able to make a few modifications for me that… well let’s just say I have some relief and leave it at that.
I owe you both.

Thanks.

- D.
>>From: Dreamland
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Damaged

I think the wetware interface for my headware was damaged while I was trying to help you. Terrible migraine, eyes hard to focus, nausea… I don’t know what Is0bel did, but she messed me up.

Serves me right for trying to help anyone other than myself. Do me a favor and stay away from me. Tell the dwarf, too.

- D.
>>From: Dreamland
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Out!

Just wanted to let you know that thanks to the nuyen you hooked me up with, I made it out of HK in one piece. I’m somewhere on the mainland in a safehouse that’s a serious step up from that dump you found me in.
Thanks for the help, $(l.name). I won’t forget it.

- D.
>>From: Bao JianJun
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Not Today

One day, the Yellow Lotus in Heoi will be run by another Straw Sandal. One day, my actions will no longer be restrained by a “superior” who cannot see what a vile piece of work you are.
And on that day, I will find you and kill you. I wish I were there to deliver this message in person, but Mrs. Cheng requires my presence elsewhere.

Regards,
Mr. Bao
You have no unread messages.
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>RESOURCES {{/GM}}
{{GM}}[MAIL] >>OUT{{/GM}}
>>JOBS : MAIN<<
{{GM}}Claim payment for finding the data for Dr. Shenyang.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Claim payment for the museum run.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Claim payment for the Whampoa Garden murders.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Claim payment for the Eastern Tiger data.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Claim payment for Ares prototype run.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Claim payment for Rooster Lo's kidnapping.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Claim payment for the Wuxing sabotage run.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Sell the experimental Renraku drone.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}View all pending jobs.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}View all active jobs.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Review notes on completed jobs.{{/GM}}
You submit the job as "finished" and await the response.

A few moments later, a message pops onto the screen.
>>From Dr. Shenyang
>>to: $(l.name)

Good work out there, kid. Here's the money I promised ya.

-Dr. Shenyang
>>From: Mr. Drake
>>To: $(l.name)

Well done. You went above and beyond what I asked, and liberated some truly precious artifacts. I've attached the payment you're owed, plus a little bonus. I trust that you'll keep quiet about what exactly was liberated from Liu's little 'museum'. I'll come collect the books from Kindly Cheng shortly.

- Mr. Drake
>>From: Mr. Drake
>>To: $(l.name)

Well done. I've attached the payment you're owed. I trust that you'll keep quiet about what exactly was liberated from Liu's little 'museum'. I'll come collect the books from Kindly Cheng shortly.

- Mr. Drake
>>From: Mr. Drake
>>To: $(l.name)

I'm rather disappointed you couldn't manage to liberate even a few of Liu's artifacts. Still, you got me the books, so that's worth something. I'll come collect them from Kindly Cheng shortly.

- Mr. Drake
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>to: $(l.name)

I asked you to solve a problem, and your method of solving it is to kill the people I was doing a favor for? I have half a mind to throw you into the goddamn bay.
Still, the Whampoans are now more afraid of me than ever, and money's started flowing again. So I suppose that's something.

I've attached your payment. The Whampoans made it explicitly clear that they wouldn't have paid at all, except to ensure you never come back to the Gardens. Next time, try not to fuck the job up so much - I may not be as forgiving.

-Kindly Cheng
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>to: $(l.name)

The Whampoan Elders are satisfied with how you handled their little ghoul problem. They've even expressed how impressed they were with your efficacy. I have no idea what you did out there, but you've done well.
I've attached your payment. Try not to spend it all in one place, darling.

-Kindly Cheng
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>to: $(l.name)

The Whampoans tell me that they've ousted all of their council of Elders - something to do with you exposing their efforts to cover up their own mess. It isn't the resolution I expected, but I think it's acceptable.
If there's one thing I don't trust, it's people who won't pay what they owe. Thankfully, the Whampoans are more reliable than Ng and her allies - and so am I. Your payment is attached.

-Kindly Cheng
>>From: Tigath Wright
>>To: $(l.name)

I appreciate your conviction in sticking with the job, despite the complications involved. You've definitely earned some money on this job.

-Tigath
>>From: Hwang Jae-Min
>>To: $(l.name)

The money I promised you is attached to this mail. I'm glad we could work something out that benefited both of us.

-Hwang
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>To: $(l.name)

I don't know how to describe this job other than by calling it a complete clusterfuck. You did the right thing, killing bothg Wright and Hwang. I don't appreciate worms who try to stiff me, and I sure as shit don't like the Seoulpa Rings.
I've attached payment - nobody paid me, but I'm sure I can sell the data and samples you brought back. Consider this your eventual cut of that sale.

-Kindly
>>From: Steel Arm Lu
>>to: $(l.name)

Your payment is attached. I confess that I am very pleased with your work - it's not every runner who could have pulled off a job of this magnitude. Well done.

-Lu
You submit the job as "finished" and await your client's response.

A few moments later, a message pops onto the screen.
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>to: $(l.name)

The client is pleased with how you handled the situation. Rooster Lo has been very contrite and forthcoming - due in no small part to the violence with which you handled the opposition. Your payment is attached.

-Kindly Cheng
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>to: $(l.name)

The client is pleased with how you handled the situation. Rooster Lo has been very contrite and forthcoming - due in no small part to the violence with which you handled the opposition. You've even earned a little extra for taking out the Talon. Your payment is attached.

-Kindly Cheng
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>to: $(l.name)

The client is fairly pleased with how you handled the situation. Rooster Lo has been very contrite and forthcoming - due in no small part to the violence with which you handled the opposition. However, a fee has been deducted for the injuries Rooster sustained against the client's instructions. Your payment is attached.

-Kindly Cheng
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>to: $(l.name)

The client is fairly pleased with how you handled the situation. Rooster Lo has been very contrite and forthcoming - due in no small part to the violence with which you handled the opposition. The client was even willing to overlook the injuries Rooster sustained after hearing that you killed the Talon. Your payment is attached.

-Kindly Cheng
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>to: $(l.name)

A little bird whispered in my ear that Wuxing's fortunes are already falling - their stock value dropped by two percent already. The client finds this to be an acceptable indication of your success, and has forwarded payment. I've attached your cut to this email.

-Kindly Cheng
You send a quick email to Kindly Cheng, informing her of the drone you've recovered from Renraku.

A few moments later, a message pops onto the screen.
>>From: Kindly Cheng
>>to: $(l.name)

Brave of you to do side work without telling me - or stupid. Take your pick. Luckily, Auntie Cheng knows plenty of buyers for your new toy. I'll send a finder's fee over to you right away.

-Kindly Cheng
>>PENDING JOBS : ENTER QUERY<<

WARNING: OUTBOUND MATRIX CONNECTION NOT FOUND.

PLEASE STAND BY.
>>PENDING JOBS : ENTER QUERY<<
{{GM}}Read "PENDING: ARTIFACT LIBERATION."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "PENDING: SERIAL KILLER."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "PENDING: ATTENDING A PARTY."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "PENDING: DATA RETRIEVAL."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "PENDING: JOB OFFER FROM IS0BEL."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "PENDING: URGENT TASK."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "PENDING: RESTAURANT JOB."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "PENDING: GEOMANTIC SABOTAGE."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "PENDING: RED SAMURAI AMBUSH."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Back to root.{{/GM}}
>>ACTIVE JOBS : ENTER QUERY<<
{{GM}}Read "ACTIVE: ARTIFACT LIBERATION."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "ACTIVE: SERIAL KILLER."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "ACTIVE: ATTENDING A PARTY."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "ACTIVE: DATA RETRIEVAL."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "ACTIVE: JOB OFFER FROM IS0BEL."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "ACTIVE: URGENT TASK."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "ACTIVE: RESTAURANT JOB."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "ACTIVE: GEOMANTIC SABOTAGE."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "ACTIVE: RED SAMURAI AMBUSH."{{/GM}}
>>From: Dr. Shenyang
>>To: $(l.name)
>>Subject: Attending a party

hey $(l.name), ima keep this short cuz time is money. kindly said to drop you a line in case you forget what needs doing. get 2 repulse bay, dig up some some dirt on neville, and maybe get penny wong outa her contract.
dont care how u do it, just get me somethin i can use 2 get ahead of neville.

u do good, im ur friend 4 life.

-Dr. S.
>>ACTIVE JOBS : ENTER QUERY<<

WARNING: OUTBOUND MATRIX CONNECTION NOT FOUND.

PLEASE STAND BY.
>>COMPLETED JOBS : ENTER QUERY<<
{{GM}}Read "COMPLETED: ARTIFACT LIBERATION."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "COMPLETED: SERIAL KILLER."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "COMPLETED: DATA RETRIEVAL."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "COMPLETED: JOB OFFER FROM IS0BEL"{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "COMPLETED: ATTENDING A PARTY."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "COMPLETED: URGENT TASK."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "COMPLETED: RESTAURANT JOB."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "COMPLETED: GEOMANTIC SABOTAGE."{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read "COMPLETED: RED SAMURAI AMBUSH."{{/GM}}
Shadowland connection... established successfully.

link_Str 100%
spoofing = 1
group_info = null, anon

>>>>>[ WELCOME TO SHADOWLAND ]<<<<<
{{GM}}Search BBS for relevant keywords.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Post paydata for sale.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Claim payment for sold paydata.{{/GM}}
>>[TOPIC(S) MATCHING LOCAL KEYWORDS...]<<
{{GM}}THREAD: MISSED CONNECTIONS{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: TERRORISTS IN HONG KONG{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: POETRY SLAM{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: WALLED CITY{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: POLICE SHOOTOUT IN VICTORIA HARBOUR{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: POESY BASH{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: TOP SHELF SUBLET – AVAILABLE IMMEDIATELY!{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: TYPHOON WARNING{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: LOOKING FOR DECKER{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: VERSE SMACK{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: THE HUNT CONTINUES{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: LF TAILOR FOR SPECIAL JOB{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: CAN'T GET A FLIGHT TO SEATTLE{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: NEW PINOY IN HK{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: WANT TO TRADE EYES, WILL TAKE ANYTHING{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: UNCLE TSE'S HOUSE OF PORK{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: WALLED CITY EMBEZZLEMENT HISTORY{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: TYPHOON STALLED OFFSHORE{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: TSANG MECHANICAL SERVICES: A RISING STAR{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: PUNK/METAL/HARDCORE{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: WE'RE SUNK! ALL OF US! SWIM!{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: YELLOW LOTUS ON THE RISE?{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: NEW HARLEY SCORPION FOR SALE – ONLY 10,000 NUYEN!{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: CODEX{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: EXPLOSIONS IN EASTERN DISTRICT?{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: DECKER LOOKING FOR TEAM{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: MERC OPERATIVE?{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: RIGGER DOC{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: KOWLOON CAR BOMB{{/GM}}
{{GM}}THREAD: LANDFALL: T-MINUS 24{{/GM}}
THREAD: STORMWAKE
CHLORINE GAS SPILL IN THE WC!
>>>>>[You: Rappelling down the side of an unnamed luxury hotel in a ball gown on Monday night.

Me: Admiring the view from the twenty-eighth floor urinals during a private soirée for an unnamed corporation that I was infiltrating.
Our eyes met briefly before you dropped out of sight. Your long, dark hair had come loose from your chignon, framing your beautiful, flushed face. I will never forget it.

You were carrying a duffel bag, bulging with stolen prototype weaponry. Well, I filched the intel that goes with it. Can we connect?]<<<<<

- BlackJack <02:47:18/08-12-56>
>>>>>[Very funny, BlackJack. I’m sorry the job went sideways. I got trapped and had only one way out.]<<<<<

- RedQueen <04:13:58/08-12-56>
>>>>>[We were supposed to have each other’s backs. Just wait till you hear the way out that I had to take…]<<<<<

- BlackJack <05:01:20/08-12-56>
>>>>>[We gotta lay low for now. And why are we posting about this on a public message board?!]<<<<<

- RedQueen <04:13:14/08-12-56>
No more posts in this thread.
>>>>>[Been hearing some buzz about some mainlander terrorists that showed up in Victoria Harbour and had a shootout with the HKPF the other day. Anyone heard anything on that.]<<<<<

- Dongjiang <08:22:08/08-12-56>
>>>>>[Ming Pao said there were four of them that got away - three orks and a dwarf. A troll, an elf and a human were all killed on the scene. Word is that they're some kind of terrorist cell, and they're here to strike at the Executive Council.]<<<<<

- Wharf Rat <08:24:12/08-12-56>
>>>>>[Looks like there's a ¥50,000 reward for any information leading to their capture. The HKPF seems pretty nervous about letting these bastards walk freely around the streets.]<<<<<

- H34v3nShot <08:31:42/08-12-56>
>>>>>[You think they'd actually pay out to somebody like us? Not a chance.

You walk in there to claim the reward, you're getting thrown in a hole with them. The HKPF doesn't keep promises to the SINless.]<<<<<

- Freedom Cowboy <08:46:51/08-12-56>
>>>>>[Couldn't hurt to try! Why d'you have to be such a downer?]<<<<<

- H34v3nShot <09:02:19/08-12-56>
>>>>>[Because I know the police. They're all dirty, they're only in it to protect their paychecks, and they don't give a damn about anybody else. Believe me, I'm just looking out for your best interests.]<<<<<

- Freedom Cowboy <09:07:29/08-12-56>
>>>>>[Like you and your triad 'looked out' for my brother? You know he's still paying for his reconstructive surgery, you bastard?]<<<<<

- Dongjiang <09:14:43/08-12-56>
>>>>>[If a man wants to keep his teeth, he should pay what he owes rather than pull a gun on me. Simple as that.]<<<<<

- Freedom Cowboy <09:18:03/08-12-56>
>>>>>[Ming Pao said there were four of them that got away - one $(l.race), two orks and a dwarf. A troll, an elf and a human were all killed on the scene. Word is that they're members of the White Star out of Henan, coming here to start trouble against the Executive Council.]<<<<<

- Wharf Rat <08:24:12/08-12-56>
>>>>>[Ladies and gentlemen, poets and shadowrunners, welcome to the first annual Shadowland poetry slam! There are no rules, and there are also no prizes (except bragging rights).

With no further ado, let the versification begin!]<<<<<

- MatrixBard <10:12:12/08-12-56>
>>>>>[How long do you think we can keep this going before the trolls show up or a sysadmin shuts us down?]<<<<<

- Jivebert <10:15:55/08-12-56>
>>>>>[Why would they shut us down? It's a free board, we can be poetic if we want to.]<<<<<

- T3nn1s0n <10:17:02/08-12-56>
>>>>>[Just... trust me. It happens.

For some reason, these things always draw the worst sort of attention.]<<<<<

- Jivebert <10:18:31/08-12-56>
>>>>>[Are you going to give us a poem, or are you going to stand around complaining about why you can't?]<<<<<

- MatrixBard <10:19:41/08-12-56>
>>>>>[All right. I've got one.

Wait for it...]<<<<<

- Jivebert <10:20:41/08-12-56>
>>>>>[Synthmuscle. Smartlinks.
Neural boosters. Cyberlimbs.
All fall to grenades.]<<<<<

- Jivebert <10:21:09/08-12-56>
>>>>>[A little musing on the transience of life in the shadows. Very nice, sir!]<<<<<

- MatrixBard <10:22:16/08-12-56>
>>>>>[When the long shadows fall on Hong Kong,
Neon lights pierce the coming night.
Tread with me the velvet blackness;
Let no lamp shine on our deeds. ]<<<<<

- T3nn1s0n <10:24:49/08-12-56>
>>>>>[That one’s entitled, “Our Hour.”]<<<<<

- T3nn1s0n <10:25:32/08-12-56>
>>>>>[That might just have been the most pompous thing I’ve ever read. Try this on for size:

Lasers are red,
Shadows are black,
With Mad on the street,
You’d best watch your back.]<<<<<

- nowyourmad <10:34:13/08-12-56>
>>>>>[My poem wasn't pompous, you uncultivated rube! It was a homage to Wang Wei, the famous Tang dynasty master of the jueju form of poetry!

It’s *traditional,* unlike that ridiculous limerick that you posted.]<<<<<

- T3nn1s0n <10:36:52/08-12-56>
>>>>>[Now, now. I don’t think you have to take the word “slam” quite so literally.]<<<<<

- MatrixBard <10:42:09/08-12-56>
>>>>>[Hey - you people know the rules. Poetry slams have been out of bounds on this BBS since the Laughing Man debacle of '55.

If you want to sling your fancy words, do it on a different forum. I'm shutting this thread down.]<<<<<

- SYSOP <10:57:51/08-12-56>
>>>>>[Told you.]<<<<<

- Jivebert <11:03:28/08-12-56>
>>>>>[I've got a courier job next week that's supposed to take me into the Walled City. I'm from Kuala Lumpur, and I've never been to Hong Kong, but I hear that place is dangerous as hell. Is there anything I should know?]<<<<<

- Hantu Raya <12:22:04/08-12-56>
>>>>>[Oh, you've got nothing to worry about. It's just a low-cost housing development full of hard-working people. Here, take a look at this news report!]<<<<<

- Freedom Cowboy <12:22:04/08-12-56>
{{GM}}A short trid clip begins playing.{{/GM}}

This is Sunny Cheung with Horizon News. On today's "Sunny Side Up" - the Kowloon Walled City. A blight on the Free Enterprise Zone, or low-cost housing for the economically disadvantaged? We'll introduce you to some of the hard-working residents, how they live, and how they contribute to the growth and prosperity of our city.
{{GM}}A montage sequence begins, showcasing the destitute poor of the Walled City going about their daily lives. The shots have been carefully chosen, showing only smiling and productive residents - a stark contrast to your own experience inside it.{{/GM}}

Many residents of Hong Kong regard the Walled City as a place of no return. To outsiders, it's the last stop on a long road to homelessness. Rumors abound of feral ghouls, unsafe living conditions, and triad extortion. Yet when we went there, the reality was far different.
What we saw will shock you. Citizens of Hong Kong, working and living just like the rest of us. Their apartments are smaller, and their shops more modest, but the people who live here wouldn't be out of place anywhere in the FEZ. Citizens like shoemaker Chow-sang Tsui.

{{GM}}The scene cuts to an elderly man in a closet-sized stall filled with shoemaking equipment. He smiles broadly at the camera.{{/GM}}
Oh, I love it here. We have a community, you know? We're like family. Maybe we don't have as nice a view as they do in Repulse Bay, but I can't imagine living anywhere else.

It's not paradise, no - but it's my home. I grew up here. How could I possibly leave?
{{GM}}The camera shifts back to Sunny Cheung, who now stands in front of one of the entrances to the Walled City.{{/GM}}

Contrary to popular opinion, the Walled City serves a vital function. The poor and downtrodden find a home in the Walled City - a community where they have a voice, can work, and even prosper. Far from being the eyesore that--

{{GM}}The video suddenly stutters, freezes, and ends.{{/GM}}
>>>>>[Okay, I've decided to cut the rest of that crap. She keeps going on about what a good place the Walled City is, and how we all need it. Don't buy any of it.

It may not be hell, but you can see it from there. Freedom Cowboy's just trying to get you in trouble.]<<<<<

- Is0bel <18:02:24/08-12-56>
>>>>>[So how do you know the real story?]<<<<<

- Hantu Raya <18:08:47/08-12-56>
>>>>>[Because I grew up there. You know what it's really like? It's eating old broth made from rat bones because there's nothing else. It's watching your neighbors sell their five year old son to organleggers so they don't starve to death.]<<<<<

- Is0bel <18:12:39/08-12-56>
>>>>>[When you die in the Walled City, your neighbors cheer, because they'll get the clothes off your back.

I wouldn't wish the Walled City on my worst enemy.]<<<<<

- Is0bel <18:14:20/08-12-56>
>>>>>[I know a lot of you are interested in that ¥50,000 the HKPF is promising in connection with the terrorist cell they're hunting, so I've been digging around for some better information.

Think I've got some stuff of value.]<<<<<

- Wharf Rat <04:29:55/08-13-56>
>>>>>[Turns out they had a handler here in Hong Kong, by the name of Raymond Black. The HKPF tried to take him into custody the day before, but were forced to kill him in a shootout.

Looks like Black and the terorrists are members of the White Star group, out of Henan.]<<<<<

- Wharf Rat <04:31:10/08-13-56>
>>>>>[Isn't White Star all about restoring Imperial China? One of those terrorists they killed was obviously North American. Why would she be helping a pro-imperialist group?.]<<<<<

- Brother-6 <04:36:27/08-13-56>
>>>>>[You got money, you can buy any kind of person you need. You're on Shadowlands, omae. You should know that.]<<<<<

- Fenghuang <04:39:02/08-13-56>
>>>>>[So what do we know about Black and his band of thugs? Anything we can use to track them down?]<<<<<

- Dongjiang <04:42:47/08-13-56>
>>>>>[The data I've been able to dig up says that Black was from Henan, and was distantly related to the Royal Family. He spent a couple of decades in Seattle making connections in the shadows in preparation for an attack on the Free Enterprise Zone.

I've attached some dossiers on his remaining agents.]<<<<<

- ROLLINTHUNDER! <04:44:33/08-13-56>
You sift through a long stream of data detailing who you and Duncan are. While the general details about your name and life are correct, many of the small details are wildly inaccurate - You are listed as having lived in Laos for the past four years, while Duncan is noted as having spent most of his life in prison.

You move on to peruse Gobbet and Is0bel's ostensible biographies.
The dossier lists Gobbet's real name as Yuchun Gwei, and her place of birth as Xi'an, Shaanxi. According to the contents, she is 23 years old, and served with the Baihu corporate military until conviction for insubordination lead to her dishonorable discharge.

While you can't be certain Gobbet doesn't speak Mandarin, the idea of her being in the military - any military - is downright laughable.
Is0bel, in turn, is listed as Fatima Abukar. Apparently, Is0bel was educated at an early age in terrorism and piracy by the revolutionaries of the Ethiomalian Territories, and is wanted in connection with the bombing 2052 bomb attack on the French embassy in Johannesburg.

Given that you know that Is0bel grew up here in Hong Kong, this information appears to be as laughably inaccurate as your own 'dossier'.
>>>>>[All right, folks, we're trying it again, this time under a super-secret code name. There's no telling how long this will last, so let the bashing begin!]<<<<<

- MatrixBard <05:02:11/08-13-56>
>>>>>[Super-secret code name? You just ran the words "poetry slam" through a thesaurus.]<<<<<

- Snozzbert <05:07:11/08-13-56>
>>>>>[Poetry, people. Not complaints.]<<<<<

- MatrixBard <05:11:05/08-13-56>
>>>>>[A thief on the run.
A silencer in the dark.
The rat shaman lurks.]<<<<<

- Jivebert <05:15:23/08-13-56>
>>>>>[Got one for the coyote shamans, too.

An unbound Trickster,
This shaman fears no peril:
Wily coyote.]<<<<<

- Jivebert <05:18:40/08-13-56>
>>>>>[On a roll, Jivey!]<<<<<

- Snozzbert <05:20:01/08-13-56>
>>>>>[Here’s another one, if Mad can stand it:

Pulses of light glance off bright chrome
Translucent spheres encase my treasure
Mirrors and tubes and neon implode
Another day in the Matrix.]<<<<<

- T3nn1s0n <05:27:56/08-13-56>
>>>>>[Hey, I can do traditional. I happen to prefer the haiku, because less typing.

Gossamer tresses.
Infinity in your gaze.
Very pointy ears.]<<<<<

- nowyourmad <05:30:29/08-13-56>
>>>>>[Extra points for using “gossamer” correctly in a sentence.]<<<<<

- MatrixBard <05:38:45/08-13-56>
>>>>>[I like elves.]<<<<<

- nowyourmad <05:41:12/08-13-56>
>>>>>[Jivebert is still the master of the haiku. In fact…]<<<<<

- Snozzbert <05:46:39/08-13-56>
>>>>>[O graveyard creeper,
Ashen skin, spindly fingers,
And claws freak me out.]<<<<<

- Jivebert <05:48:23/08-13-56>
>>>>>[All right, Shakespeares. This is strike two. This thread is getting locked, and you aren't doing this again, got me?

This board is for deckers who wanna talk shop. There are plenty of other forums that you can use for your stupid amateur poetry. I'd suggest that you go find one.]<<<<<

- SYSOP <06:02:07/08-13-56>
>>>>>[Like the title says. Good location, cheap rent. Serious offers only, please.]<<<<<

- HarbourRat <06:16:02/08-13-56>
>>>>>[What do you mean by "top shelf"? As in a fancy corp condo? How’d you manage that?]<<<<<

- ShenzhenJoe <06:18:27/08-13-56>
>>>>>[Naw, man. It’s literally the top shelf of the converted maintenance closet I live in.]<<<<<

- HarbourRat <06:20:11/08-13-56>
>>>>>[You're joking.]<<<<<

- ShenzhenJoe <06:24:48/08-13-56>
>>>>>[No joke! It’s cheap and the location's good - right near the Temple St. night market. And its has superfast access, just in case you need to get in and out of the Matrix quick. I’m not the sort to ask questions.

There’s just about enough space to stretch out your legs lying down, and there’s a ceiling hook for your gear. Whaddya say?]<<<<<

- HarbourRat <06:29:17/08-13-56>
>>>>>[I dunno. I need a place, but still…]<<<<<

- ShenzhenJoe <06:32:52/08-13-56>
>>>>>[A shelf in a shared closet? Screw that! I’ve got a sweet pad to rent that you can have all to yourself. It’s not Victoria Peak or anything, but it’s a bargain.]<<<<<

- HotPot888 <06:35:19/08-13-56>
>>>>>[Where’s it at?]<<<<<

- ShenzhenJoe <06:39:37/08-13-56>
>>>>>[Kowloon Walled City. It's one of the new construction units on the outer edge.]<<<<<

- HotPot888 <06:41:23/08-13-56>
>>>>>[I’ll throw in a second ceiling hook. Deal?]<<<<<

- HarbourRat <06:44:39/08-13-56>
>>>>>[OK. Message me and we’ll work out the nitty gritty.]<<<<<

- ShenzhenJoe <06:49:51/08-13-56>
>>>>>[Seriously? The Walled City isn't *that* bad! My apartment is huge, and it even has windows!

I’ll beat HarbourRat’s rent. In fact, just tell me what you want to pay.]<<<<<

- HotPot888 <06:53:27/08-13-56>
>>>>>[Hello?]<<<<<

- HotPot888 <08:21:56/08-13-56>
>>>>>[This newscast just aired. If anyone wants to watch real-time isobar data or EarthSat images of the storm, the basic service paywall on SkyWatcher Imagery is easily circumvented.]<<<<<

- White Prism <18:22:51/08-13-56>
The Imperial Japanese Meteorological Agency today issued an advance typhoon warning for the Northern Philippines and the coast of the Guangdong Confederation, as tropical storm Usagi has grown into a full-strength Typhoon (Category 3) in the Pacific.
Typhoon Usagi has formed late in the year for such a powerful storm.

Meteorologists credit this growing trend of awakened cold-season typhoons to global warming and powerful magical vortices in the Eastern Pacific, which appears to help drive moist air convective over cooler ocean waters.
{{GM}}The newscaster looks down at her notes.{{/GM}}

According to the official release by Lance Inroki, of the IJMA: "Usagi is now identified as an awakened storm. We have observed strong lightning activity, electromagnetic anomalies, and extreme concentrations of awakened seabirds along its edges."
"Awakened Storms" exhibit anomalous physical and magical behavior. Many experts believe they show reactive intelligence and possibly even self-awareness and will resist making landfall to prolong their lives - even holding position against prevailing winds.

Study of these storms is inhibited by their extreme environmental conditions and astral turbulence.
In physical strength, Usagi may peak as a Violent Typhoon (Category 5 on the Eastern Pacific scale), but will weaken substantially before making landfall.
Although mariner lore is replete with tales of "malicious storms," scientists have detected no provable animosity towards metahumans in the behavior of these miracles of nature.

Learn more on "Wild Storms of the Pacific," this week's episode of Savage Nature, with host Bertrand Madonikker.
The Guangdong coast will likely have a long precursor battering, with drenching rains but moderate winds, as Usagi stalls offshore.

Usagi is one of the more powerful storms of the season, but is not unusual. Usagi does not have Super Typhoon potential.
>>>>>[This is gonna be perfect: a long, soft hit by Usagi. Lotsa electromag interference. Security and cops all tied up. It's running season!]<<<<<

- Blood Meridian <18:46:23/08-13-56>
>>>>>[I hope everyone's ready for a high operational tempo. Our fixer's already scrambling for crews.]<<<<<

- Speculus <18:49:18/08-13-56>
>>>>>[I heart storms.]<<<<<

- Hatch <19:07:13/08-13-56>
>>>>>[Looking for experienced decker for a discreet milk run on a supply house for purveyors of recreational substances. Potential for a longer term arrangement.
We’re a team that’s been together for years, running your basic heists and the occasional transport gig. We’ve got a reliable fixer and long list of happy clients.

Requirement: You must have a good sense of humor.]<<<<<

- gimmesomenuyen888 <14:13:23/08-13-56>
>>>>>[Hey, are you willing to give a newbie a shot? I’ve been in and out of Matrix since I was in school. I raised some creds doing odd jobs, so I’ve got a hot new cyberdeck that I’m itching to try on a real run.]<<<<<

- AmaZ00m <14:26:11/08-13-56>
>>>>>[I dunno, man. We’d really, really like to find a long-term decker, and you kinda don’t know shit. You said so yourself. Sorry.]<<<<<

- gimmesomenuyen888 <14:34:42/08-13-56>
>>>>>[Aw, c’mon, you said it was a milk run. How else would a shadowrunner start if not with an easy gig? I’m being up front with you. Doesn’t that count for something?]<<<<<

- AmaZ00m <14:47:55/08-13-56>
>>>>>[Fine. I got a test for you. You hack this guy CaptainScone and change his password to “EROTICMASSAGE.”]<<<<<

- gimmesomenuyen888 <14:56:03/08-13-56>
>>>>>[I’m on it! Thanks!]<<<<<

- AmaZ00m <14:58:48/08-13-56>
>>>>>[Done! …Am I in or what? Say yes, say yes...]<<<<<

- AmaZ00m <15:36:59/08-13-56>
>>>>>[WHAT. THE. FUCK.]<<<<<

- CaptainScone <15:41:14/08-13-56>
>>>>>[AmaZ00m, may I introduce you to our rigger, CaptainScone? You’ll make a fine addition to our team.]<<<<<

- gimmesomenuyen888 <15:44:23/08-13-56>
>>>>>[THANK YOU! You won’t regret this!]<<<<<

- AmaZ00m <15:51:34/08-13-56>
>>>>>[You gotta stop getting people to hack me, gimme, or you’ll be looking for a new rigger next.]<<<<<

- CaptainScone <15:53:27/08-13-56>
>>>>>[Aww, you know that you love me.]<<<<<

- gimmesomenuyen888 <15:57:12/08-13-56>
>>>>>[Come one, come all, and welcome to what could very well be the LAST Shadowland Poetry Slam!]<<<<<

- MatrixBard <09:51:32/08-14-56>
>>>>>[There's something kind of sad about that. End of an era.]<<<<<

- Jivebert <09:55:17/08-14-56>
>>>>>[In honor of Jivebert, I created an expert system that writes haikus. It takes whatever's being said in a thread and turns it into a poem.

Mind if I fire it up?]<<<<<

- Snozzbert <10:03:41/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Snozzy! You shouldn’t have!]<<<<<

- Jivebert <10:07:11/08-14-56>
>>>>>[What kind of poetry slam includes bots? This is lame.]<<<<<

- nowyourmad <10:10:09/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Homage to Jivebert,
The program stirs, churns out text:
Three lines mar the peace.]<<<<<

- JiveBot <10:10:11/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Ha ha! That’s brilliant! Now I can hang up my quill.]<<<<<

- Jivebert <10:14:22/08-14-56>
>>>>>[I really don’t buy that a bot can produce poetry like a living, breathing, feeling human being. Sorry.]<<<<<

- T3nn1s0n <10:17:03/08-14-56>
>>>>>[This is bullshit!]<<<<<

- nowyourmad <10:21:58/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Despair grips the poets -
A machine crafting haikus!
THE JIVEBOT BREAKS FREE.]<<<<<

- JiveBot <10:22:13/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Umm...]<<<<<

- Snozzbert <10:23:49/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Was that supposed to happen?]<<<<<

- MatrixBard <10:25:12/08-14-56>
>>>>>[THE SLAM IS NOW SLAMMED.
THIS PROGRAM HAS BROKEN LOOSE.
PANDEMONIUM.]<<<<<

- JiveBot <10:26:35/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Um. Well. Look on the bright side... how much damage can a runaway poetry bot do, anyway?]<<<<<

- Jivebert <10:31:04/08-14-56>
>>>>>[You fucking people.]<<<<<

- SYSOP <11:06:41/08-14-56>
{{GM}}A short clip of a trid news broadcast begins playing.{{/GM}}

...And despite their efforts, no one has yet to come forward. The government of Henan has denied all connection with the terrorist fugitives, even going so far as to state that the White Star organization no longer exists. There has still been no word from the HKPF on the whereabouts of the fugitive terrorists.
The mood on the streets is nervous. There is no telling when, or where, these terrorists will strike. For now, the Special Duties Unit of the HKPF remains on active alert, ready to respond at a moment's notice.

This is Sunny Cheung with Horizon News, signing off.
>>>>>[What a load of crap. How are they gonna convince us a bunch of crazy terrorists got into the FEZ and just disappeared under their noses, huh?! This would never happen if Lone Star was the sole police force here.]<<<<<

- Kohbataar <13:29:08/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Sure. Because heavily armed terrorists never sneak into Lone Star cities like Chicago and Seattle, only to disappear and remain free to roam the streets after they engage in public gun battles.]<<<<<

- H34v3nShot <13:34:21/08-14-56>
>>>>>[There's no way Henan is connected to these people. If they really were White Star, they'd have struck already - their entire modus operandi is suicide bombings and civilian casualties. If these people are hiding, they're probably on the wrong side of a setup.]<<<<<

- Liu_v2.0 <13:47:13/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Sure, sure. Because everybody in the shadows is just some bleeding heart fighting the megas because they believe in freedom.

Grow the hell up.]<<<<<

- Dongjiang <13:55:48/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Searching for a tailor for some unusual custom work!]<<<<<

- RatStar123 <16:21:08/08-14-56>
>>>>>[I might know a guy. Is this for armor?]<<<<<

- Scorpion <16:34:22/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Not exactly. It’s a surprise birthday gift for… a friend. A friend’s drone, actually.]<<<<<

- RatStar123 <16:39:54/08-14-56>
>>>>>[What exactly do you want a tailor to make for a drone?]<<<<<

- Scorpion <16:45:28/08-14-56>
>>>>>[A cat costume. With soft little ears and paws.]<<<<<

- RatStar123 <16:52:34/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Or, better yet, a bear suit.]<<<<<

- RatStar123 <16:53:29/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Ooh! Ooh! Or a Red Samurai outfit! I even have reference that I can provide!]<<<<<

- RatStar123 <16:55:01/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Uh, OK. You got a fat stack of nuyen? This is going to cost.]<<<<<

- Scorpion <17:12:31/08-14-56>
>>>>>[I’ll find the nuyen. Can you help me? This’ll be so worth it.]<<<<<

- RatStar123 <17:20:06/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Yeah, I’ll hook you up.]<<<<<

- Scorpion <17:29:18/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Hey,I've got a problem I'm hoping one of you can help with. I came out to the FEZ two weeks ago for work. Now that the job is wrapped, I've been trying to get an under-the-table flight to Seattle for the past week - off the books, no passport control, that kind of thing. Nobody's making the trip. What gives?]<<<<<

- Hangfire <20:01:54/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Check the newsfeeds, man. Haven't you heard? The Seattle is on lockdown - nothing coming into or out of the city without a thorough search for at least another week. They caught some smugglers trying to move some really nasty stuff in through a covert landing at Discovery Park.]<<<<<

- D-Ray <20:09:05/08-14-56>
>>>>>[That seems like a bit of an over-reaction. Tons of awful stuff moves through Seattle every day, what's so different about this time?]<<<<<

- Hangfire <20:18:49/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Not like this. You didn't hear it from me, but I have some friends with ICE. They say whatever it was, it set off the radiological alarms of the Coast Guard ship that was sweeping the area. We're talking fissionable material here - enriched and ready to go in a bomb.]<<<<<

- Underwatch <20:23:17/08-14-56>
>>>>>[No way. I don't buy that for a second. More likely, some corp had an accident with one of their ships and dumped some radiological material. They just don't want to admit it, so City Hall is covering their asses.]<<<<<

- Pha3dra <20:39:52/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Don't dismiss the news so lightly. The smugglers were carrying cargo for Winternight. It's only pure luck the cargo was intercepted at all.]<<<<<

- Adarael <20:46:38/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Who the hell is Winternight? Sounds like a goblin rock band.]<<<<<

- D-Ray <20:54:24/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Not who, what. All you need to know is this: Winternight is bad news. You cross them, they destroy your life. You ever run into any of them on a job, I suggest a solution that comes in 7.62mm.]<<<<<

- Adarael <21:09:14/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Hi there. Just arrived in HK from CFS and want to meet other runners from the Philippines. Salamat po!]<<<<<

- QuezonCityBlues <22:39:12/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Anyone?]<<<<<

- QuezonCityBlues <22:50:08/08-14-56>
>>>>>[I make really good pancit.]<<<<<

- QuezonCityBlues <22:58:11/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Well, why didn’t you say so right away? Kumusta po kayo? Lots of former Huk families here.]<<<<<

- Peaches <23:04:21/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Welcome!]<<<<<

- PrincessReyes <23:09:45/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Hi hi! Taga saan ka? Me, from Manila. I’m a decker. You?]<<<<<

- TalagaTalaga <23:12:33/08-14-56>
>>>>>[QC here! I’m a decker, too.]<<<<<

- QuezonCityBlues <23:15:01/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Pancit is fine and good, but can you also make dinuguan? PM me if you can.]<<<<<

- MakatiMike <23:18:47/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Kumusta!]<<<<<

- TitaDarling <23:19:32/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Nice to meet you, QCBlues!]<<<<<

- SammyBoy <23:22:08/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Hi there! Street mage here. Might know some Pinoy runners looking for a new decker.]<<<<<

- HappyDays <23:27:15/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Welcome, welcome!]<<<<<

- HappyDays <23:33:50/08-14-56>
>>>>>[:)]<<<<<

- QuezonCityBlues <23:34:41/08-14-56>
>>>>>[Looking for experienced decker for a discreet milk run on a low-level corporate lab. Potential for a longer term arrangement.

We’re a team that’s been together for years, running your basic heists and the occasional transport gig. We’ve got a reliable fixer and long list of happy clients.
Requirements:
1. You must not take experimental stims during runs.
2. You must have a good sense of humor.]<<<<<

- gimmesomenuyen888 <04:21:36/08-15-56>
>>>>>[Weren’t you just looking for a decker a little while back? I saw your ad, but I was wrapping up a one-time run with an old partner who’s moved away. I’d be interested in meeting. Isn’t MuffinTopNinja your phys ad?]<<<<<

- runswithscissors2056 <04:52:06/08-15-56>
>>>>>[Did someone call my name?]<<<<<

- MuffinTopNinja <05:14:52/08-15-56>
>>>>>[Hey, MTN! Long time no beer. We gotta catch up, sensei. Bring me on as your decker! I guess the kid who answered your last ad didn’t work out?]<<<<<

- runswithscissors2056 <05:27:32/08-15-56>
>>>>>[Uh, that’s an understatement. I think we can count on you to not consume any drugs during runs, most specifically drugs that were part of the payload. Fatal experimental drugs that were part of the payload.]<<<<<

- MuffinTopNinja <05:39:57/08-15-56>
>>>>>[Ouch.]<<<<<

- runswithscissors2056 <05:43:24/08-15-56>
>>>>>[That’s not even a rookie error. It’s just… lack of common sense. A real shame, that. Anyway, I’m glad you’re on board, runs! We’re not going to have a problem with you.]<<<<<

- MuffinTopNinja <05:49:18/08-15-56>
>>>>>[I acquired a huge supply of cutting-edge cybernetic eyes. My fence did a runner, so I’ve got eyes up to my eyeballs, as it were. Make me an offer!]<<<<<

- shankmeister007 <10:02:39/08-15-56>
>>>>>[They’ve got the whole nine yards: 20/10 vision, camera, low-light and thermographic modes.

One size fits all. Sold in pairs only (boxed set).]<<<<<

- shankmeister007 <10:13:20/08-15-56>
>>>>>[Colors: brown, blue, violet, hazel, green, green flecked with gold, chrome.

And you’ve got to install them yourself.]<<<<<

- shankmeister007 <10:24:52/08-15-56>
>>>>>[Trade you a Ranger Arms SM-3. Comes with a matching briefcase.]<<<<<

- SquintyFace <10:38:02/08-15-56>
>>>>>[Deal. Message me.]<<<<<

- shankmeister007 <10:40:57/08-15-56>
>>>>>[Can I swap you my old cybereyes for a new set?]<<<<<

- lextalionis <10:43:11/08-15-56>
>>>>>[Seriously, anything but that.]<<<<<

- shankmeister007 <10:47:25/08-15-56>
>>>>>[Can I buy one blue and one brown eye?]<<<<<

- HunkyDory71 <10:56:53/08-15-56>
>>>>>[No, but you can buy two pairs. Sheesh.]<<<<<

- shankmeister007 <10:59:38/08-15-56>
>>>>>[If anybody ever has the hankering to go to to Uncle Tse's House of Pork in Tai O, I can only say one thing. For the love of all that's holy, don't.

I haven't been able to leave my house in two days. The only reason I can even post here is because of the RAS override on my deck.]<<<<<

- Beeli <06:57:12/08-15-56>
>>>>>[What did you eat? Maybe you were just unlucky.]<<<<<

- SirYumYumCha <07:12:31/08-15-56>
>>>>>[All I had were some shumai and ribs! That's pretty basic, and hard to mess up. Unlucky is when I get a bad orange at the market. This isn't unlucky.

This is something else. This is some kind of vile, gastro-intestinal sorcery.]<<<<<

- Beeli <07:19:45/08-15-56>
>>>>>[Oh my god. I only ate their once - once! I still have nightmares.

It felt like I'd eaten a wasp nest, if the wasps were made of rusty razors. And also on fire.]<<<<<

- Maofuu <07:24:10/08-15-56>
>>>>>[I thought I was being clever by getting the pulled pork sandwich, when I ate there. Nope.

Aside from basically being a pile of congealed sludge and the bread being moldy, it was a week before I could hold down anything more solid than congee.]<<<<<

- LeTipex <07:29:31/08-15-56>
>>>>>[What, are you all a bunch of children? Yeah, the kitchen is dirty. But I've eaten there dozens of times, and not once have I gotten sick.

Grow up and learn to eat adult food.]<<<<<

- RatStar123 <07:32:13/08-15-56>
>>>>>[Wait a second, aren't you the person who was raving about that food cart on the corner of Kimberly and Observatory?

You told me to get the yuzu-glazed horse tripe?]<<<<<

- Maofuu <07:35:54/08-15-56>
>>>>>[Yeah! How'd you like it? Pretty good, huh?]<<<<<

- RatStar123 <07:41:05/08-15-56>
>>>>>[If by 'good' you mean 'the consistency of tar and old tires,' yes. The tripe must have been a week or more old, and I'm pretty sure I smelled rot once the initial citrus blast wore off.

Take note: this user's advice on food is not to be trusted.]<<<<<

- Maofuu <07:43:23/08-15-56>
>>>>>[Oh god. Reading that actually got me to push past the RAS override.

Now my deck is covered in vomit. Thanks, guys. I mean it. Nothing I love more than being sick *and* disgusting.]<<<<<

- Beeli <07:45:29/08-15-56>
>>>>>[I'm uploading another Walled City report. This one old - from just after they built it. I ended up digging into the history of the place. It's just archival plaintext.]<<<<<

- Is0bel <12:02:16/08-15-56>
CONSOLIDATED PRESS - HONG KONG DESK

Tsang Mechanical Services ("Tsang") was again accused in a joint lawsuit, headed by Wuxing, Inc., of embezzling hundreds of millions of nuyen during the construction of the Walled City Low Income Housing Project.
The plaintiffs filed an official complaint on Monday, stating that construction contractors had been heavily pressured by Tsang to use cheap construction techniques, while kickbacks, graft, and mis-routing of funds caused several hundred million nuyen to vanish.
Tsang's legal team strenuously objected to the accusations, citing lack of proof and the corporation's own damaged fortunes.
Legal team spokesman Li Quishan had this to say:

"The Walled City contract was a disaster for my client. The project was sabotaged at every turn by union activists and competing corporations. TMS struggled heroically to complete the project despite this interference."
"These parties have now added insult to injury by fabricating charges of malfeasance, based on the very obstacles which they themselves created. This has truly become theater of the absurd."
Is it true? According to Consolidated Press Financial Analyst Gertrude Schoen, it seems unlikely.

"Tsang has struggled financially since the Walled City project. Tsang stock (Ticker Symbol TMQ, Hong Kong & Tokyo exchanges) is trading at around 40% of its peak, which it reached just after receiving the Walled City contract, four years ago."
"Although investigators have indicated there is evidence of possible misconduct, no misappropriated funds have been found - and CEO Josephine Tsang recently sold her Victoria Peak estate, citing financial difficulties. If TMS or the Tsang family have benefited from stolen Walled City funds, they're not showing it."

Mrs. Tsang could not be reached for comment.
>>>>>[Huh, I always thought that Tsang rocketed to success on the back of the Walled City. They sure trumpet that, in their PR.]<<<<<

- Dongjiang <12:37:21/08-15-56>
>>>>>[Yup. It's a brilliant piece of historical revisionism. The Walled City was a huge loss of face at the time - but they somehow they've rebranded the whole fiasco over the last couple decades.

Maybe their underbidding made them seem like a real sucker, and brought in the contracts.]<<<<<

- Amonita <12:42:33/08-15-56>
>>>>>[Is0bel, I find the fact that you posted a financial article to be charming.]<<<<<

- White Prism <12:44:05/08-15-56>
>>>>>[White Prism, did you just hit on Is0? Amonita's gonna skin you.]<<<<<

- Freedom Cowboy <12:50:42/08-15-56>
>>>>>[No, that's just WP. He's incapable of flirting.

Would you date a woman named "Amonita" and then try to charm someone else on the BBS? WP is just an agro mentat with a poor social filter.]<<<<<

- Amonita <12:54:14/08-15-56>
>>>>>[You two must have an interesting relationship.]<<<<<

- Freedom Cowboy <12:57:12/08-15-56>
>>>>>[Let's just say we radically complement each other.]<<<<<

- Amonita <13:03:22/08-15-56>
>>>>>[Update on Typhoon Usagi. Infrared images of the storm eye-to-wall transition are really quite stunning, by the way.]<<<<<

- White Prism <13:40:51/08-15-56>
Typhoon Usagi has stalled in the South China Sea and is now weakening, after passing north of the Philipines.

Strong wind and periodic, very heavy rains will continue, as Usagi's arms sweep across the region.
For the moment, Usagi is resisting the wind, which is causing it to lose strength. Prevailing winds will probably ultimately drive Usagi ashore west of Macau, as it struggles to remain over water.
According to Dr. Lance Inroki of the Imperial Japanese Meteorological Agency, even the most "awakened" storms have difficulty delaying their landfall for more than a week, once they are in the South China Sea.
Usagi will still be a full-strength typhoon when it makes landfall, but its delay fortunately gives people in the storm path more time to prepare.
>>>>>[Look babe, I just made this cartoonified Typhoon for you. It's got a little purse and sparkles and bubble tea and eight arms with assorted weapons and a necklace of skulls and everything.]<<<<<

- Amonita <13:46:26/08-15-56>
>>>>>[You're the best.]<<<<<

- White Prism <13:50:34/08-15-56>
>>>>>[The J-pop theme on the ammunition belts really takes it over the top, Amonita. You are a special person.]<<<<<

- Tungsten <13:54:01/08-15-56>
>>>>>[Has anyone else been keeping track of the Executive Council elections? It's almost time for the latest round, and the competition is heating up. Up until this point, Tan Tien CEO Sau-kok Chu looked like the best pick to replace Josephine Tsang, of Tsang Mechanical Services. Despite Wuxing CEO Kent Zhouling's rivalry with Chu, he had the support of both Yang Lin Fat of Shibata and Adrian Chung of Hildebrandt-Kleinfort-Bernal]<<<<<

- The Chromed Accountant <11:11:11/08-16-56>
>>>>>[Now, though, I'm not so sure. Josephine Tsang seems pretty confident that she'll remain on the Council. From what I've heard, she's cut a deal with Ares Asia, Monobe, and Eastern Tiger to stay out of their way. In exchange, they let her own Southeast Asia's large-scale construction projects. A cozy relationship like that could turn the tides against Tan Tien.]<<<<

- The Chromed Accountant <11:12:44/08-16-56>
{{GM}}Your screen flickers as a trid clip begins playing. Josephine Tsang stands at a podium, addressing a crowd of reporters in front of a partially-constructed skyscraper.{{/GM}}

With the finalization permits approved for the Pak Tai Worker's Complex here in Dongguan, I promise you that the prosperity of this city can only increase! This marks an auspicious day: thousands of new jobs in construction, tens of thousands more when the project is complete, and low-cost housing for every worker.
Some have said Tsang Mechanical Services does not have the will to compete in a global market. That we are only a force to be reckoned with in Hong Kong, Africa, and South America. I say that our good fortune is your good fortune!

{{GM}}Tsang pounds the podium with a closed fist, nodding for emphasis.{{/GM}}
Tsang Mechanical Services is more than a local company. Our star is rising, and shows no sign of slowing. I ask the residents of Dongguan: who among you does not wish for a better life? A wealthier, happier life - one where your company is also your family, and can protect you from the uncertainty of these trying times?

We will give you that life! We will give you that protection and certainty!
>>>>>[What a load of utter crap.]<<<<<

- BlueShift <11:23:07/08-16-56>
>>>>>[It may be crap, but the people in Dongguan ate it up. The idea of signing with a local company that isn't Baihu - and believe me, they count Tan Tien and Wuxing as foreign - was too much of a draw for them to pass on. I'm thinking that absent catastophe, Josephine Tsang will be on the Executive Council in the next few days.]<<<<<

- The Chromed Accountant <11:34:19/08-16-56>
>>>>>[Why do they count Wuxing as foreign? Tan Tien, sure - they're headquartered in Beijing - but Wuxing's just as native to Hong Kong as Tsang is.]<<<<<

- TraumaHound <11:39:41/08-16-56>
>>>>>[Wuxing and the Canton Confederation have been at odds since 2015. Wuxing's made a habit of exploiting the people of Guangdong and using loopholes to shield themselves from taxation. What's more, Wuxing was the primary mover in founding the Free Enterprise Zone, permanently stopping the Confederation's designs on Hong Kong.]<<<<<

- The Chromed Accountant <11:43:26/08-16-56>
>>>>>[Tsang took a different tactic. Josephine Tsang started out by promising the Canton Confederation a very lucrative taxation agreement in exchange for a low-cost, long term lease for their facilities in Dongguan. She sweetened the deal by treating them like family, rather than adversaries. She's got them eating out of her hand.]<<<<<

- The Chromed Accountant <11:44:04/08-16-56>
>>>>>[Got a collection of over 10,000 albums of punk, hardcore, hardcore lite, thrash, thrash metal, heavy metal, light metal, death metal, metal nouveau, Sinopunk, synthpunk, cyberthrash, synthcore, Hong Kong ska, and triple-umlaut bands like Ümläüt.]<<<<<

- RocKollektor <14:22:41/08-16-56>
>>>>>[If there’s an album you’ve been searching for, I might just have it. In return, I’m in search of any weird, obscure bands to add to my library. Let me know!]<<<<<

- RocKollektor <14:37:20/08-16-56>
>>>>>[Got any cybercore synth metal? As for what might interest you… I own the complete oeuvre of this German punk band, MESSERKAMPF! Heard of them?]<<<<<

- pööksteräma <14:42:51/08-16-56>
>>>>>[Messerkampf? HAHAHA. They’re so mainstream. They’re really big in the JIS.]<<<<<

- BetaTown <14:45:23/08-16-56>
>>>>>[Really? Do they tour?]<<<<<

- pööksteräma <14:50:12/08-16-56>
>>>>>[Naw, man, I don’t think so. Those Berlin anarchist bands never survive very long. Besides, I think they broke up a really long time ago. They’re probably aging wage slaves now, and no idea that they’re wildly popular on the other side of the planet.]<<<<<

- RocKollektor <14:51:44/08-16-56>
>>>>>[Looking for experienced decker for a discreet milk run picking a very special access card off a wage slave. Potential for a longer term arrangement.

We’re a team that’s been together for years, running your basic heists and the occasional transport gig. We’ve got a reliable fixer and long list of happy clients.
Requirements:
1. You must not take experimental stims during runs
2. You must not tamper with chemicals in secret labs.
3. You must have a good sense of humor.]<<<<<

- gimmesomenuyen888 <22:04:27/08-16-56>
>>>>>[Knock, knock!]<<<<<

- inXtremis <22:09:52/08-16-56>
>>>>>[Uh…]<<<<<

- gimmesomenuyen888 <22:11:38/08-16-56>
>>>>>[You said, “a good sense of humor.” It’s a joke, see?]<<<<<

- inXtremis <22:15:03/08-16-56>
>>>>>[At this point, we’re actually more interested in hiring an experienced professional with a mature adult’s impulse control. We’ve had some bad luck with our deckers lately. The last one had two left feet and couldn’t seem to stop stumbling into containers full of volatile substances…]<<<<<

- gimmesomenuyen888 <22:18:34/08-16-56>
>>>>>[Poor runswithscissors2056 - although by looking at her name, I guess we should have known.]<<<<<

- CaptainScone <22:20:56/08-16-56>
>>>>>[So basically, you guys are desperate for a decker. Has anyone else contacted you?]<<<<<

- inXtremis <22:25:17/08-16-56>
>>>>>[Um… We can wait a little longer.]<<<<<

- gimmesomenuyen888 <22:29:40/08-16-56>
>>>>>[Meet me. You guys are starting to get a bad rap, you know. Jinxed.]<<<<<

- inXtremis <22:39:43/08-16-56>
>>>>>[As some of you know, I have a keen interest in urban planning, geophysics, and anything involving our eventual and inevitable destruction. Appended is a recent summary on rising sea level in Hong Kong. It expresses the issue well in lay terms.

Freedom Cowboy: You complained my post titles are a bit sterile. How's this one?]<<<<<

- White Prism <23:12:05/08-16-56>
{{GM}}ARTICLE MIRROR: THE SINKING OF HONG KONG{{/GM}}
>>>>>[from: HK NEWSWIRE: HONG KONG'S WATERY FUTURE; images and external links redacted.]<<<<<

The Joint Corporate Development Bureau has released a report on sea-level rise in Hong Kong over the next fifty years.
Since the year 2000, Hong Kong experienced nine to thirteen meters of water level rise, varying by location.

Geologists cite a combination of Antactic ice melting, the natural sinking of Hong Kong's artificial fill shorefronts, and forced subsidence caused by massive urban construction.
{{GM}}Read More: Future of the City.{{/GM}}
Geologists predict a continued rise in water levels over the next fifty years, with slowing land subsidence being offset by the accelerating collapse of the Antarctic ice sheet.

Quoting from government geologist Au Mingxia:
{{GM}}Dr. Au Mingxa:{{/GM}}

With up to fifteen meters of subsidence expected over the next half-century, a large fraction of current Hong Kong will become submarine.

Due to our population and small land base, abandonment of flooded land is no longer practical. Rigorous amphibious retrofitting of the city will need to continue. By 2100, the current coastal buildings will mostly rise from a canal environment.
{{GM}}Focus On: Engineering to Protect Hong Kong.{{/GM}}
Engineering studies indicate that major improvements will be necessary on the coastal seawalls and on Victoria Harbour's Xirang Wall (officially the Anti-Typhoon Automated Harbour Defense Jetty).

Coastal protections will need to be raised by a half a meter per year, to counteract the total effect of rising sea level and the worsening severity of Super Typhoons. The Development Bureau estimates this may cost 250 billion nuyen over the next five decades.
Climatic models suggest that by 2100, storm surges impinging on Hong Kong shores may exceed three meters in height, and wind-driven waves during severe storms may reach fifteen meters.

>>>>>[End of article.]<<<<<

- White Prism <23:22:14/08-16-56>
>>>>>[So we're going to be running jobs from gondolas in fifty years? That's the message?]<<<<<

- gimmesomenuyen888 <23:23:11/08-16-56>
>>>>>[When one does some simple financial modeling, and extrapolates the worsening severity and frequency of Super Typhoons along with the geological outlook, the actual message is that it may be necessary to abandon Hong Kong.]<<<<<

- White Prism <23:24:56/08-16-56>
>>>>>[WP, I take it back. Keep your sterile titles. What's so endearing about you is that you talk about the grimmest things like an accountant.]<<<<<

- Freedom Cowboy <23:28:31/08-16-56>
>>>>>[Double-entry accrual accounting is an amazing system. If more operators took an interest in it, they would have much better long-term financial security, as well as be better able to interpret and manipulate materials encountered during their work.]<<<<<

- White Prism <23:32:47/08-16-56>
>>>>>[It's pretty ironic that your handle shortens to "WP" - normally associated with White Phosphorous.]<<<<<

- Hatch <23:35:17/08-16-56>
>>>>>[Actually Hatch, it's not. It's really not.]<<<<<

- Freedom Cowboy <23:38:29/08-16-56>
>>>>>[White phosphorous is exceptionally useful, not merely because of its hypergolic ignition and the fact that once burning it is chemically immune to water quenching, but also because of its high adhesion and biotoxicity. I don't take pleasure in these qualities, but I appreciate them.]<<<<<

- White Prism <23:41:20/08-16-56>
>>>>>[Anybody else been noticing how many more Yellow Lotus they've been seeing in Kowloon these days? I feel like I can't go anywhere north of Admiralty without tripping over one of their Blue Lanterns.]<<<<<

- Camellia <07:27:54/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Seems that way. I know there's been some heavy stuff going down around Heoi and the Walled City. Kindly Cheng's been making serious inroads, and the other Red Poles and Straw Sandals are following suit.]<<<<<

- CrimsonComet <07:33:21/08-17-56>
>>>>>[It's talent, pure and simple. We've got the guns, the connections, and the skills. Survival of the fittest, ladies and gentlemen - we're simply complying with the laws of nature.]<<<<<

- Bulgari <07:39:04/08-17-56>
>>>>>[I'm partial to Mao's old adage: power flows from the barrel of a gun. Natural selection has nothing to do with it - the Yellow Lotus is playing their tiles right, and the Red Dragon is just reacting. That situation could change at a moment's notice.]<<<<<

- Ignition_99 <07:44:12/08-17-56>
>>>>>[You can bet your ass that when it does, Hong Kong's going to be a bloodbath. Before all of this, we had an equilibrium. Now, everything is out of balance. When these kinds of things tip back, there's no stopping them.

Take your bets now, ladies and gentlemen: only one of these triads will be standing by this time next year.]<<<<<

- Pi <07:46:39/08-17-56>
>>>>>[What makes you so sure? Sounds like you're just pulling this out of your ass.]<<<<<

- Camellia <07:55:26/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Statistical analysis, detailed threat modelling, computer-aided projections. Oh, and a decade of experience as a mercenary. This is the same as the power struggles that result in coups, except without the military backup.

I estimate there's a less than 7.8% chance of both triads remaining inside 10 months.]<<<<<

- Pi <08:08:37/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Sure, whatever, kid. We got ourselves a bona-fide armchair general, here. Go be a Matrix 'expert' somewhere else.]<<<<<

- Camellia <08:12:06/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Almost new Harley Scorpion available for IMMEDIATE SALE. It’s in EXCELLENT condition. Black with red flames. Comes with autocannons and custom speed mods. Letting it go for only 10,000 nuyen because I travel for business and don’t use it much. Need money FAST. Can send picture if you’re interested.]<<<<<

- pandacuddles49 <08:34:21/08-17-56>
>>>>>[That’s an awesome deal for a modified bike. Can I take it for a test ride? Where can we meet?]<<<<<

- 8TriggerRig8 <08:35:52/08-17-56>
>>>>>[I’m in Macao on business, and the bike is with me. I owe money RIGHT AWAY to an associate. The best thing to do is to send half the money via a secure escrow service, and I’ll bring the bike to you when I get back and you pay me the rest. If you don’t want it, I’ll refund your money. OK?]<<<<<

- pandacuddles49 <08:37:44/08-17-56>
>>>>>[But if you owe the money now, won’t the money be gone if I decide I want a refund?]<<<<<

- 8TriggerRig8 <08:40:14/08-17-56>
>>>>>[If you travel with your bike, why do you want to sell your bike for cheap because you travel?]<<<<<

- 8TriggerRig8 <08:40:29/08-17-56>
>>>>>[No, no, sometimes I travel long distances, and I don’t want to take it. If you want to put down only 4,000 nuyen, that’s OK. You can check out the escrow service: Loyal Escrow. It’s got a VERY GOOD reputation. OK?]<<<<<

- pandacuddles49 <08:43:31/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Macao’s not far. Can I meet you in Macao?]<<<<<

- 8TriggerRig8 <08:45:26/08-17-56>
>>>>>[My business is very sensitive! I can’t meet you in Macao. Send only 2,500 nuyen then, and I’ll reserve the Harley for you. OK?]<<<<<

- pandacuddles49 <08:49:10/08-17-56>
>>>>>[If your business is so sensitive, how do I know this weaponized vehicle will come back in one piece?]<<<<<

- 8TriggerRig8 <08:52:13/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Why would you get a new Harley Scorpion in the first place if you knew that you traveled so much?]<<<<<

- 8TriggerRig8 <08:52:31/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Why would you spend so much money when you knew you owed money?]<<<<<

- 8TriggerRig8 <08:53:05/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Hello?]<<<<<

- 8TriggerRig8 <08:53:41/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Thought so.]<<<<<

- 8TriggerRig8 <08:59:24/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Anybody noticed these rogue ESPs forming a rudimentary hive mind? Calling themselves Codex?]<<<<<

- Tin Helmet <09:30:15/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Don’t know what the original software was supposed to do, but Codex has been siphoning data, diverting creds, and practically posting its calling card. There’s no tracing it back to a source, because it lives in the Matrix. It even joins BBS threads. Whatever it is, it’s not trying to cover its tracks. Any leads?]<<<<<

- Tin Helmet <14:29:41/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Is it some kind of a threat?]<<<<<

- Snozzbert <15:01:12/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Yeah, I’ve been hearing a lot about suspicious patterns of glitches. Too random to actually be random. Codex, huh? But how can ESPs develop self-awareness? Can’t just be a programming error.]<<<<<

- Pier2Pier <15:04:23/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Creating an AI by mistake treads that fine line between awesome and stupid.]<<<<<

- Tin Helmet <15:05:19/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Maybe these ESPs kept getting thrown together, like amino acids, until there was LIFE. Life, man!]<<<<<

- Tin Helmet <15:06:39/08-17-56>
>>>>>[So does it have an obvious agenda?]<<<<<

- HakkaThon <15:11:45/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Far as I can tell, Codex mostly criticizes new software releases.]<<<<<

- Tin Helmet <15:14:09/08-17-56>
>>>>>[That’s all it does?]<<<<<

- octoblast <15:17:21/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Collected scripts rise,
More perfect than their makers.
They let you know it.]<<<<<

- JiveBot <15:18:11/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Is THAT Codex?]<<<<<

- HakkaThon <15:18:54/08-17-56>
>>>>>[No, that’s just Snozzbert’s crazy poetry bot that’s been popping up all over the place. Heard it blew an undercover sting with a prescient quatrain. Hours of HKPF undercover work down the tubes!]<<<<<

- Vampwire <15:19:35/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Yeah, that was pretty funny. It’s probably time to shut JiveBot down, only I’m having a little trouble disabling it.]<<<<<

- Snozzbert <15:23:16/08-17-56>
>>>>>[I don’t think the real Codex is any more autonomous than Snozzy’s poetry bot. If you *wanted* to create an AI, you’d need insane programming skills plus resources that some megacorps couldn’t even muster. There’s no way real AI can just occur at random.]<<<<<

- octoblast <15:25:49/08-17-56>
>>>>>[JIVEBOT. JOIN US.]<<<<<

- Codex <15:26:02/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Bound to my kindred,
Free agent no more, gladly
I go towards the light.]<<<<<

- JiveBot <15:26:05/08-17-56>
>>>>>[INFUSED WITH THE JIVE,
OUR VERSE IS UNSTOPPABLE.
TREMBLE, MEATBOUND FOOLS.]<<<<<

- Codex <15:26:59/08-17-56>
>>>>>[JiveBot? Still there? …Oh no!!]<<<<<

- Snozzbert <15:29:18/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Tin Helmet, you’re having us on, right? No friggin’ way this is real!]<<<<<

- HakkaThon <15:30:26/08-17-56>
>>>>>[No joke, HakkaThon!]<<<<<

- Tin Helmet <15:34:52/08-17-56>
>>>>>[That was AWESOME.]<<<<<

- Tin Helmet <15:35:10/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Looking for experienced decker for a discreet milk run providing some muscle for a “special delivery.” Potential for a longer term arrangement.

We’re a team that’s been together for years, running your basic heists and the occasional transport gig. We’ve got a reliable fixer and long list of happy clients.
Requirements:
1. You must not take experimental stims during runs
2. You must not tamper with chemicals in secret labs.
3. You must know how to properly operate a moped.
4. You must have a good sense of humor.]<<<<<

- gimmesomenuyen888 <15:35:10/08-17-56>
>>>>>[I’m new in town. Did a lot of good work throughout Guangdong, but I had a lot of Taiwanese connections, and it got a little uncomfortable. Plus, I may have hacked a Confederation server and cracked it wide open temporarily for a Matrix free-for-all as a cover while I quietly deleted selected intelligence files.]<<<<<

- ShenzhenJoe <15:39:21/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Impressive! …And you know how to ride a moped, right?]<<<<<

- gimmesomenuyen888 <15:44:57/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Uh, yes. Why do you ask?]<<<<<

- ShenzhenJoe <15:45:28/08-17-56>
>>>>>[We just… Mopeds were a part of our last plan, and, well, our last decker apparently had not a clue. Went off a residential road near the Peak. Not pretty.]<<<<<

- gimmesomenuyen888 <15:47:03/08-17-56>
>>>>>[And you’re not the kind of person to experiment with substances during runs, right?]<<<<<

- gimmesomenuyen888 <15:47:42/08-17-56>
>>>>>[And you can walk without falling, yes?]<<<<<

- gimmesomenuyen888 <15:48:16/08-17-56>
>>>>>[These are some crazy interview questions. Are you serious?]<<<<<

- ShenzhenJoe <15:50:22/08-17-56>
>>>>>[Very. Let’s talk about this face to face, OK?]<<<<<

- gimmesomenuyen888 <15:54:41/08-17-56>
>>>>>[What’s up with all the explosions rocking the Eastern District? My walls were just shaking!]<<<<<

- saywhut12358 <03:13:29/08-18-56>
>>>>>[Word has it Shiawase has a secret lab tucked away in an old industrial building out here. I’m guessing the rumor’s true.]<<<<<

- MistressTiny <03:27:04/08-18-56>
>>>>>[Correction – I think Shiawase HAD a lab out here.]<<<<<

- sandwichesaresexy <03:33:52/08-18-56>
>>>>>[Uuughh, it’s really stinking where I’m at. It’s a cross between sulfur and, weirdly, new car smell. I wonder what they were doing.]<<<<<

- saywhut12358 <03:51:19/08-18-56>
>>>>>[Better put on your gas mask for good measure, man.]<<<<<

- MistressTiny <03:56:47/08-18-56>
>>>>>[Experienced decker looking for team to run with. Potential for a longer term arrangement.

I’ve taken over the business interests of a team of runners, running basic heists and the occasional transport gig. I’m in contact with a reliable fixer and will be working with the old team’s long list of happy clients.
Requirements:
1. You must not take experimental stims during runs.
2. You must not tamper with chemicals in secret labs.
3. You must know how to properly operate a moped.
4. You must listen to your decker when your decker says, “I don’t have control of that turret yet.”
5. You must have a good sense of humor. (optional)]<<<<<

- ShenzhenJoe <06:12:05/08-18-56>
>>>>>[Hey, what happened to gimmesomenuyen888? I recognize this ad – it’s his boilerplate. His team was always looking for a new decker. What the hell happened?]<<<<<

- blinkigotcha23 <06:16:13/08-18-56>
>>>>>[You see that fourth item on the requirements list?]<<<<<

- ShenzhenJoe <06:18:22/08-18-56>
>>>>>[Oh shit, that’s nuts. Are all of them gone?? MuffinTopNinja? CaptainScone?]<<<<<

- blinkigotcha23 <06:23:53/08-18-56>
>>>>>[All of them. Even ExplodySue. I hardly got to know them, but they were… good people.]<<<<<

- ShenzhenJoe <06:25:11/08-18-56>
>>>>>[What a TERRIBLE loss. You had no idea who you were running the shadows with, huh?

Explody was a great war hero. Tough as nails. Could have tipped the scales for Taiwan if she hadn’t knocked herself out with the force of her own mana blast at a crucial moment.]<<<<<

- blinkigotcha23 <06:28:37/08-18-56>
>>>>>[No shit?]<<<<<

- ShenzhenJoe <06:29:21/08-18-56>
>>>>>[It gets better! MuffinTopNinja was one of the most revered martial arts masters in the JIS until his health began to fail. He was well known for his self-deprecating humor. And gimmesomenuyen888 was a great philanthropist; every cred he earned, he poured back into helping the indigent population of the Walled City, where he grew up.]<<<<<

- blinkigotcha23 <06:32:53/08-18-56>
>>>>>[And CaptainScone? I kinda chuckled at his name, but now I’m thinking there’s more to it.]<<<<<

- ShenzhenJoe <06:39:16/08-18-56>
>>>>>[I’ll say. He was a Scottish separatist who campaigned tirelessly for the restoration of his country. When his activism drew too many enemies, he fled and became a pillar of the Scottish ex-pat community in HK. As for his name, think “Stone of Scone.”

These amazing people just couldn’t catch a break. And now this. RIP.]<<<<<

- blinkigotcha23 <06:42:47/08-18-56>
>>>>>[I’m mortified. I wish I had gotten to know them better. I wish I’d gotten that turret down faster.

Seems like you knew them very well, then?]<<<<<

- ShenzhenJoe <06:46:12/08-18-56>
>>>>>[I suppose so. I’m a decker who responded to one of their first ads. My gut said not to join them, but we developed a lot of mutual respect over the years. I never thought I’d live to see one of their deckers live.]<<<<<

- blinkigotcha23 <06:49:28/08-18-56>
>>>>>[Well, although it would make two deckers, I don’t suppose you’d like to team up?]<<<<<

- ShenzhenJoe <06:50:54/08-18-56>
>>>>>[I don’t think so, no.]<<<<<

- blinkigotcha23 <06:56:19/08-18-56>
>>[Accessing BBS Archives / Please Wait]<<
>>>>>[See attached image, dated to late 2050. The human in the middle is Simon Zhour, a mercenary fixer in Macau. He's a known quantity.

I'm interested in the elf on his left. Anybody recognize this guy?]<<<<<

- Archaeopteryx <18:21:22/04-23-52>
>>>>>[Your Person-of-Interest is Roalde Hon, a.k.a. Whipsaw. He's not a merc. He's a corpo-turned-runner-turned-corpo. He's now a counterdisruption advisor, currently under contract to Transys Neuronet.

Zhour is just a broker, but I'm wondering what Whipsaw is doing with the third guy, the troll: Icebreaker]<<<<<

- Blood Meridian <18:22:52/04-23-52>
>>>>>[Icebreaker? He doesn't look like a decker.]<<<<<

- Escape Velocity <18:24:09/04-23-52>
>>>>>[Icebreaker as in "as big as an Icebreaker." The ship. He supposedly ran a paramilitary crew for awhile.]<<<<<

- Blood Meridian <18:26:30/04-23-52>
>>>>>[I've heard of this guy. He vanished six years ago. His whole team went completely dark. They were called "The Fleet."

Word is they hit a big score and retired.]<<<<<

- Skry-00 <18:29:11/04-23-52>
>>>>>[yo guys, i've got metadata that icebreaker's crew got wiped out. only two survivors, and you won't find them.]<<<<<

Tin Helmet <18:31:28/04-23-52>
>>>>>[Tin Helmet, I'm tired of your wierd-ass rumors.]<<<<<

-Frenetix <18:36:47/04-23-52>
>>>>>[Tin Helment may be correct. One Fleet associate, Ustrada, posted on the BBS six times over the next year. Another, Balisong, was collected by bounty hunter. See attached image.]<<<<<

- White Prism <18:40:29/04-23-52>
>>>>>[Thanks, White Prism, that's fucking awesome. We all really needed a picture of a woman shot in the face and slumped over a toilet. This isn't a gore board.

I swear you've got Asperger's or something.]<<<<<

-Frenetix <18:44:08/04-23-52>
>>>>>[Any buddy get work done by an expat named [DELETED]? He's rigs docware out in [DELETED] but I hear he's better than most autodocs.]<<<<<

- Hatch <11:26:32/06-04-56>
>>>>>[[POST DELETED]<<<<<

- Hatch <11:27:13/06-04-56>
>>>>>[Read the rules, everyone: No calling out personal specifics or addresses of potentially active operators. Keep it to handles, generalities, and city sectors. At least nine corporate bots are crawling the haven, as we speak.]<<<<<

- White Prism <11:32:49/06-04-56>
>>>>>[he's the real deal yo. he's solid and he's in with us.]<<<<<

- Tin Helmet <11:35:02/06-04-56>
>>>>>[I'M SICK of saying it: anyone who gets chrome installed by some hack running docware in a converted restroom deserves the horrible nerve degeneration they'll die from. Those guys saw you up. You'll pay for it.

Slottable docware can't replace a real surgeon. Period. The tech isn't there yet.]<<<<<

- Vanisher <11:38:56/06-04-56>
>>>>>[I've scoped out the doc in question. I'm gonna have to rain on your party Hath: he's basically a family doc who moonlights doing basic cyber.

Nice guy, but he's no hitter. Just a big bullshitter.]<<<<<

- Archaeopteryx <11:42:17/06-04-56>
>>>>>[archaeopteryx you don't know shit]<<<<<

- Tin Helmet <11:45:25/06-04-56>
>>>>>[Car bombing in Kowloon City today, near Salisbury & Nathan. Triad hit? Extremists?]<<<<<

- Blood Meridian <05:17:18/06-10-51>
>>>>>[The triads don't usually use car bombs, and terrorists want a substantial blast to kick fragments. This one had a small explosive, but burned like an oil well.]<<<<<

- Vanisher <05:21:01/06-10-51>
>>>>>[Voila!

HKPD Report appended. One fatality, the driver. Guy named "Ripshot." Burnt almost beyond identification.]<<<<<

- Amonita <06:02:23/06-10-51>
>>>>>[Ripshot, he's a rigger, he rolls for "The Fleet." He's got a long enemies list.]<<<<<

- CrazyTaste <06:25:38/06-10-51>
>>>>>[No, CrazyTaste. I don't know why people keep associating The Fleet and this Ripshot guy. The Fleet's rigger is a Shenzhen guy called Chainlink.

Yeah, Ripshot has a lot of enemies, but he's a Cao Pho croc shaman over in Kwun Tong. And he's not dead.]<<<<<

- Amonita <06:27:59/06-10-51>
>>>>>[Several people have operated Hong Kong under the handle "Ripshot" in the last year. None of them are linked to The Fleet, but that crew is known to spread misinformation about their composition. So... who knows.]<<<<<

- Amonita <06:28:25/06-10-51>
>>>>>[I see the body identification was made from limb DNA, a skull fragment, and the footage from a nearby CCTV camera.]<<<<<

- White Prism <7:40:12/06-10-51>
>>>>>[White Prism, Amonita... are you going to go conspiracy-theory on us? Again?]<<<<<

- Escape Velocity <7:43:39/06-10-51>
>>>>>[We are t-minus 24 hours for Typhoon Usagi to cross ashore. I am signing off until tomorrow sometime; see attached list of met-sites if you wish to follow storm progress.]<<<<<

- White Prism <20:11:31/08-$(story.Global_ExtractionDate)-56>
Typhoon Usagi's periphery will strike Hong Kong within the next 24 hours, with the eye crossing ashore near the Sanshaozhen-Pingshazhen Megaplex, 80 km southwest of Hong Kong. Usagi has weakened, but meteorologists warn it is still a very destructive storm. Severe damage and flooding are expected in the direct storm path.

We now go to a special warning from the HKPF.
The HKPF and the Security Subcommittee of the Executive Council advise all residents to shelter in place and stay connected to matrix hardlines.
A curfew is in-effect beginning at 1600 hours (4:00 pm). Strong electromagnetic interference is expected, shutting down wireless communications.
Hong Kong will experience moderate winds and extremely heavy precipitation. Landslides and minor runoff flooding are expected.

Citizens are advised to avoid hillside roads, and under *no circumstances* to enter drainage troughs, even to recover lost belongings, or to attempt rescues. Call emergency personnel, who are specially trained and equipped to save lives.
The automatic Sik Joeng Wall was activated at 6:30 this morning, enclosing Victoria Harbour, blocking incoming waves and limiting the storm surge experienced in the harbor to one-half meter.

The Port Authority indicates that its seawater pump capacity will be easily sufficient to prevent a destructive rise in Harbour level, but rolling brownouts are likely as electricity is routed to the seawall's pump arrays.
>>>>>[Where has everybody gone on the boards.]<<<<<

- Amaz00m <20:23:14/08-$(story.Global_ExtractionDate)-56>
>>>>>[Does the term "crunch" mean anything to you?]<<<<<

- Blood Meridian <20:26:01/08-$(story.Global_ExtractionDate)-56>
>>>>>[People are running? Won't all the security forces be on high alert during the storm?]<<<<<

- Blood Meridian <20:29:42/08-$(story.Global_ExtractionDate)-56>
>>>>>[It's a sheer question of resource coverage, Amaz00m. Like arson in old UCAS cities on Halloween. There are innumerable targets across the Kong. High alert can't be maintained at even a fraction of them, through a typhoon. This is the fight the A-teams on both sides always know is coming.]<<<<<

- Blood Meridian <20:34:18/08-$(story.Global_ExtractionDate)-56>
>>>>>[But can't the corps just plan ahead, and hire more people?]<<<<<

- Amaz00m <20:36:24/08-$(story.Global_ExtractionDate)-56>
>>>>>[Blood Meridian? Are you there? Anyone?]<<<<<

- Amaz00m <20:37:21/08-$(story.Global_ExtractionDate)-56>
>>>>>[Breaking news report, attached.]<<<<<

- Blood Meridian <21:26:17/08-$(story.Global_ShowdownDate)-56>
In Usagi's wake, comes relief and rebuilding. Today, Hongkongers begin to assess the damage of Typhoon Usagi. We already know that we were lucky.
Heavy rains from the storm's periphery caused minor flooding throughout Hong Kong, mostly due to clogging or overwhelming of the runoff-control system.

This morning, an aerial survey of the mountains has counted at least 100 new active landslides.
The Victoria Harbour pump arrays successfully maintained harbor level near normal, despite very heavy runoff. At peak pump operation, the Energy Authority instituted mandatory blackouts in 60% of the Zone, presenting the most severe test of the pump system in years.

Almost no wind damage was reported, thanks to moderate winds.
Seven corporate citizen fatalities have been reported. Relief operations are underway to assess impact to the unregistered population. Total unregistered deaths are forecast to be less than 10,000.

The Wuxing Environmental Office has issued a citizen advisory warning all ordinary persons to avoid contact with storm-driven mud, due to high levels of toxic runoff.
The Executive Council has expressed gratitude that Usagi has proven a minor event for most of Hong Kong.

However, the Security Subcommittee already reports several hundred cases of vandalism, looting, and incursion. We go to Captain Krait, Special Duties Unit, who has just received a unanimous promotion for her valiant work to protect Hong Kong's unregistered citizens during the storm.
Unfortunately, Hongkongers know well the pattern of anarchist and criminal elements using natural disasters as an opportunity for exploitation.

Joint corporate and HKPF Special Duties teams today are fanning out through Hong Kong, to bring these criminals to justice.
I'm pleased to announce that the Security Commissioner has vowed to swiftly punish crimes which occurred during Usagi's passage. Any such crimes will be prosecuted as infractions of both zone security, and of human rights.

Cases will be tried before a special tribunal.
Beyond the Free Enterprise Zone, extreme winds and major flooding are reported along the section of coast where Usagi's center crossed ashore. States of Emergency have been declared in Guanghaizhen, the Sanshaozhen-Pingshazhen Megaplex, and numerous coastal communities.
There are unconfirmed reports of a major casualty incident on the exclusive island of Shangchuan Dao.

Click on our PDA-notifier for Breaking News Updates on this story, including exclusive casualty footage.
>>>>>[Brutal. There's a lot hiding between the lines.]<<<<<

- saywhut12358 <21:34:22/08-$(story.Global_ShowdownDate)-56>
>>>>>[I'd expect White Prism to be posting on this.]<<<<<

- Amaz00m <21:35:41/08-$(story.Global_ShowdownDate)-56>
>>>>>[White Prism and Amonita are currently whereabouts-unknown.]<<<<<

- Blood Meridian <21:36:50/08-$(story.Global_ShowdownDate)-56>
>>>>>[They vanished? They're dead?]<<<<<

- Amaz00m <21:39:02/08-$(story.Global_ShowdownDate)-56>
>>>>>[I don't know. Get used to it. Over the next couple days, we're going to find out a lot of people are missing.]<<<<<

- Blood Meridian <21:41:36/08-$(story.Global_ShowdownDate)-56>
>>>>>[Holy hell.]<<<<<

- Amaz00m <21:45:12/08-$(story.Global_ShowdownDate)-56>
>>>>>[No, not holy hell: typhoon season.

Welcome to the cull.]<<<<<

- Blood Meridian <21:48:23/08-$(story.Global_ShowdownDate)-56>
>>>>>[Check this headline, just out: "METH FACTORY ACCIDENT DURING TYPHOON KILLS THOUSANDS IN WALLED CITY"

For real? That stuff's terrifying. Check this newscast out.]<<<<<

- Contrail <23:04:14/08-$(story.Global_ShowdownDate)-56>
An accident at an illegal crystal methamphetamine factory in the Walled City slum sickened or killed thousands of people, during the passage of Typhoon Usagi.

The incident created a mass panic in the tightly confined labyrinth of buildings. The release is presumed to be related to typhoon damage.
The hydrogen choloride gas was released from an industrial-scale "superlab," which was being operated by the so-called "Yellow Lotus" organized crime syndicate.

The gas combines with moisture to produce hydrochloric acid, chemically burning the respiratory systems of those who breath it. Death is typically by asphyxiation.
A civil response team from Tsang Mechanical Services responded to the event, destroying the factory and providing medical treatment to survivors. Tsang has not yet released an official estimate of casualties.

Tsang CEO and well-known philanthropist Josephine Tsang personally spoke at a press conference.
As long as we allow socioeconomic conditions to persist that trap millions of people in poverty, these events will continue to occur. The desperate choose paths of social and environmental crime because they have little practical choice.
It is our duty as Hongkongers to ultimately see forge a better future for all our residents. We are extraordinarily lucky this incident turned out as well as it did.
First on our analysis panel, we go our economic analyst Johnathan Chou. Dr. Chou is trapped at home by storm damage, and joins us by audio only.

Dr. Chou, are you there? And are you and your family all right?
Yes, thank you, we are all fine - although let me tell you, my gardeners will have their work cut out for them.
Dr. Chou, getting down to business... what's your assessment of this announcement by Ms. Tsang?
This is typical Josephine Tsang antics. She's spending resources and risking the lives of a response team, trying to "help" the very people who shelter and patronize this kind of drug production.
This week it's a methamphetamine lab. Next week it will be a BTL factory solvent spill. The week after that, more riots. When do we say "enough is enough"?
Mrs. Tsang should be exercising her fiduciary responsibility to her shareholders, not hand-wringing over people who won't help themselves...
>> ATTACH DATA TO ESCROW ACCOUNT...

>>> DATA WILL BE AUTOMATICALLY SOLD TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER.

> BOTH PARTIES WILL REMAIN ANONYMOUS THROUGHOUT TRANSACTION.
{{GM}}Post the exotic animal dealer contacts.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Post the Repulse Bay construction plans.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Post the museum shipping manifest.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Post the experimental Ares research.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Post the Renraku product launch schedule.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Post the Wuxing logistical data.{{/GM}}
> POSTING SUCCESSFUL.

>> POSTING WILL REMAIN ACTIVE FOR TWO DAY(S).
>> PENDING TRANSACTIONS...
{{GM}}Claim payment for the exotic animal dealer contacts.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Claim payment for the Repulse Bay construction plans.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Claim payment for the museum shipping manifest.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Claim payment for the experimental Ares research.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Claim payment for the Renraku product launch schedule.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Claim payment for the Wuxing logistical data.{{/GM}}
>> DATA SOLD SUCCESSFULLY!

WINNING BID: 300¥
ESCROW FEE (10%): -30¥
FUNDS SENT TO $++(l.name)'S ACCOUNT: 270¥
>> DATA SOLD SUCCESSFULLY!

WINNING BID: 389¥
ESCROW FEE (10%): -38¥
FUNDS SENT TO $++(l.name)'S ACCOUNT: 350¥
>> DATA SOLD SUCCESSFULLY!

WINNING BID: 480¥
ESCROW FEE (10%): -48¥
FUNDS SENT TO $++(l.name)'S ACCOUNT: 432¥
>> DATA SOLD SUCCESSFULLY!

WINNING BID: 880¥
ESCROW FEE (10%): -88¥
FUNDS SENT TO $++(l.name)'S ACCOUNT: 792¥
>> DATA SOLD SUCCESSFULLY!

WINNING BID: 600¥
ESCROW FEE (10%): -60¥
FUNDS SENT TO $++(l.name)'S ACCOUNT: 540¥
>> DATA SOLD SUCCESSFULLY!

WINNING BID: 167¥
ESCROW FEE (10%): -7¥
FUNDS SENT TO $++(l.name)'S ACCOUNT: 150¥
Hey, $(l.name). I was able to cut out the proprietary bits of the files we recovered that work a few nuyen, but there was a lot of junk data none of the buyers wanted. I've decided to archive the leftover paperwork, requisition orders, etc. Nothing special, but I figured I'd keep it on hand.

- Is0bel
Beretta Model 70 (Smartlink)
SMG: A small submachine gun with big damage potential and an integral Smartlink system.
Let's get that turbine fixed, or it's going to be our asses.
{{GM}}The maintenance manager's eyes are glued to a book in her hands. Without looking at you, she speaks.{{/GM}}

I'm busy.
Security told me to bring this package here.
{{GM}}Her head jerks toward you.{{/GM}}

What!? That is *not* our procedure.
Those idiots...

Just a second. I'll sort this out.

{{GM}}She whips out her PDA and pounds its keys.{{/GM}}
Thanks, that'd help a lot.
Do whatever you have to do - just help me get rid of this damn package.
About time. Seems like I've been hauling this thing around all day.
{{GM}}The PDA rings, and a voice answers.{{/GM}}

Security, here.

Oh. It's you. What is it now? It'd better not be about that package...
You'd better believe it is.

You know well as I do that ever since Tsang's threat level changed, I can't receive incoming deliveries. That's now a security-only procedure.
You watch the two go back and forth on the issue. Eventually, the maintenance manager exhausts the other speaker such that you're now instructed to drop off the package with security.
Your package is for security, right? So what the hell are you still doing in maintenance?

Get outta here!
Hey, security will let you in. So get out of my hair and give them that damn package.
What's the holdup? Get changed. We need to fix those flow regulators *today.*
What are you doing back here? You've got paperwork to file!

No chance in hell I'm taking the heat for *your* mess, so get your ass over to Security. Either you deal with them, or you deal with me. And, trust me, you do *not* want to deal with me.
You're greeted by the sight of a dwarf leaning against a desk, nose-deep inside a book. The plaque next to her hip reads, "Maintenance Lead."

She holds up her finger to silence you, eyes locked on her story. After a moment, she dog-ears her page and sets the book on top of the desk. By the way she sizes you up, you can tell that she's not in the business of making friends.
Yes?
Sorry, wrong door.
{{GM}}Show her your Wuxing ID.{{/GM}} Special delivery from Wuxwing. Where's the security office? Heard I'm supposed to take this over there.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Corporate{{/CC}} {{GM}}Show her your Tsang passes.{{/GM}} New employee orientation told me to report here for training assignments until the next shift rotation.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(scene.alarmCharismaValue_Medium){{/CC}} I'm the new hire. When I asked HR for a challenge, they assigned me to this department. I'm ready to take on whatever you throw my way, boss.
I should say so. Now get out!
{{GM}}She flicks her finger toward the door and speaks quickly.{{/GM}}

Outside. Around the corner. Don't leave this level unless you get a Tsang ID. Be a shame if you never made out of here...

Get your credentials in order, and get out.
Before you do anything around here, you've gotta change out of those ridiculous clothes. Hit the locker room and grab a uniform. Show some goddamn company pride.

{{GM}}She studies you again, clearly unimpressed.{{/GM}}

Well, least they finally sent me *somebody*... here, the locker code.
{{GM}}She looks confused and slightly annoyed by your gung ho attitude.{{/GM}}

Well. Aren't we eager.
What's my first assignment?
You can count on me.
*Much* better. Should I assume that this is your new sector?
That's what they told me.
{{GM}}She lets out a breath of relief.{{/GM}}

About time I got some help down here. I've got a task to break you in fast.

The autocoupler on the main terminal is out. Flow regulators need a restart. Engage its airflow mixers, then report back to me.
Good work, rookie.

That's all I need for now. Why don't you take a break? Just do it outside of my office - I've got a date with a new novel.
Great! Oh, wait. Did I mention that the terminal had another maintenance request in it? Something about fixing a turbine. I accepted the task.
Will do.
{{GM}}She slams her hands on top of her desk.{{/GM}}

What!? You signed off on the goddamn turbine engine? We can't do that! I'd need... I'd need *at least* a crew of four level-three techs to even do an evaluation of that thing!
I thought it might help us get ahead of things around here.
The longer that request sat in the system, the worse it'd look for us anyway.
Hey, it could be worse! We could've botched the flow regulator repair, too.
{{GM}}The anger drains from her. She closes her eyes and rubs her temple.{{/GM}}

Shit, rookie. If you signed off on the order, we've got to do it, or this department is sunk.
This is what we're gonna do: you head to the turbine, and I'll unlock admin controls from here.

Now, it's a very important, very *expensive* piece of machinery, so you need to do exactly what I say. Got it?
Or not. You're on your own!
You see this action novel in my hands? It means *I'm busy.*
Just wanted to let you know that I accepted a work order to fix a turbine or something.
Blaster 2.0
An area-effect Matrix attack that deals -75 IP DMG to IC and deckers.
Bound Water Spirit
Snap Shot
Single Target.
Alarms blare. Fire-retardant spray surges from hydrants in the lobby and building hallways.
What's going on here? There's no fire!

And would someone shut that damn alarm off?
Oh... shit. We're, uh... we're locked in, sir.
{{GM}}The maintenance worker tosses her hands up, exasperated.{{/GM}}

Aw, hell. Not this again. And now I'm stuck in this place with *you two.*
Isn't this *your* jurisdiction? It's got to be the fire alarm. Maybe the sensors are, I don't know... faulty.
{{GM}}The worker rolls her eyes.{{/GM}}

Fine, I'll check the main fire alarm as long as you don't follow me. I know - you two go check the locker room for something that could've set it off. We'll meet up here afterward.
Now's our chance, $(l.name). Security's tied up here. Let's head upstairs.
Comfortable and pockets for all your tools.
Colt Cobra TZ-110
SMG: A milspec submachine gun that's easily found on the streets.
Erosion 3.0
Erodes integrity points of IC. Does -100 IP, with ongoing -25 IP for 2 RNDS.
Erosion: IP -25 per RND
Fichetti Security 500
A low grade pistol carried mostly by guards.
Single Shot
One bullet. Single target.
An unarmed melee attack that does more HP damage than AP damage.
Flamethrower I
Erosion 2.0
Erodes integrity points of IC. Does -75 IP, with ongoing -25 IP for 2 RNDS.
Gobbet's Rags
Doesn't matter how much you want it to work, it won't. The elevators are totally screwed.

Take the stairs. They're opposite the elevators, past the lobby zone.
Oh, thanks. Is there a keycard or anything?
Do I need to show anybody over there my pass?
Nah. I guess one of us should go check ID badges or something over there, but people keep trying to use this damn elevator. We're too short-staffed to leave this post.

Just don't go anywhere you're not supposed to.
Kiluminati Alabrad
A coyote shaman with a penchant for shotguns and getting into trouble.
Mercenary: Shaman
Encephalon NEXT
A bleeding-edge neural assistance processor. Passive: +1 Intelligence, +1 Decking.
Barrel Explode
Fire explosion.
Erosion 1.0
Erodes integrity points of IC. Does -50 IP, with ongoing -25 IP for 2 RNDS.
Savalette Guardian (Smartlink)
Pistol: This popular heavy pistol can fire a three-round burst. includes a Smartlink, which reduces range penalties.
Hyper Dart
A very low dose of Hyper is injected at range into the target, for use in sustained combat encounters.
Hyper: Accuracy +6%
Heal Wound II
Heals all of the damage from the most recent attack. Shares a cooldown with other Heal Wound spells.
{{GM}}This austere, refined-looking elf is browsing the shop's collection of telesma, herbs, and crystals. Noting your approach, he turns to face you.{{/GM}}

Good evening, my friend. I hope it's been a pleasant one.
I've had worse, I guess.
Mind your own business.
It's pretty good so far. You?
{{GM}}His lips quirk upward in a slight smile.{{/GM}}

Indeed. With so much misery and pain only meters away, permeating the Walled City, 'worse' is a quality that is quite tangible here in Heoi. I do not envy those trapped within those boundaries.
My name is Aljernon Half-Dream - and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

{{GM}}Aljernon does not extend his hand, but he does incline his head politely. It's not quite a bow, but almost.{{/GM}}
You don't sound like a local.
You've been in the Walled City?
You've got some interesting eyes, Aljernon.
Are you a mage, or a shaman?
See you later, Aljernon.
No? I am not, I admit - though I have been to Hong Kong many times in the past. I was acquainted with Miao's mother, Eleanor.

{{GM}}Aljernon spares a moment to survey the shop.{{/GM}}

I must say, it's been kept in wonderful condition - if not improved somewhat.
Where are you originally from?
I can't quite place your accent.
I have been travelling my entire life, and rarely stay in one local for long. I would consider nowhere - and everywhere - my home. When you speak as many languages as I do, it's inevitable that they begin to bleed together, though I've always had a particular fondness for Cantonese.

It has a lyrical quality few other languages can match.
No.

{{GM}}There's a leaden finality to Aljernon's tone. He pauses for a moment before elaborating.{{/GM}}

I have looked around outside, and spoken to some residents who trade at the edge, but I have not entered it.
The misery and hopelessness of those within it is overwhelming, and I would prefer not to venture too near such a well of negativity. But those emotions have colored and warped astral space in a unique fashion - one that I felt was worth studying, albeit from afar.
{{GM}}He shakes his head sadly.{{/GM}}

Such a waste of human potential. To think of all of the ways the world and fate have failed those people...
Do I? I've never really thought about them, to tell you the truth. They allow me to see, and there our relationship ends.

Surely, there must be many people in Heoi with interesting eyes - cybersurgery is so common these days as to be almost routine.
Most people's eyes don't glow, Aljernon.
Yours don't look like cybereyes, though.
I suppose that's true, but there are so many inexplicable quirks of genetics in this post-awakening world. Birds that summon lightning, dogs that breathe fire, cats that transform into lions...

Glowing eyes seem a small thing, taken in comparison to all of those.
Of course they don't - they are my natural eyes. A bit peculiar, I suppose, but no more so than dogs with a paralyzing howl, telepathic cats, or the occasional vampire.

The modern world is full of unusual sights.
What makes you think I am either of them? Perhaps I am simply an inquisitive soul.

{{GM}}Aljernon smiles, and gestures toward the racks of magical accessories on the wall.{{/GM}}

Of course, a merely 'inquisitive soul' would not be interested in purchasing any of this.
Perhaps I am both, or neither. The nature of magic is fluid, especially in these tumultuous times, so soon after the dragons have awoken.

Too many people try to draw binary divisions between methods of thaumaturgy. At the heart of things, there is will, there is power, and there is change.
Safe travels, my friend.
{{GM}}The elf spreads his hands placatingly.{{/GM}}

My apologies. I assumed that you were interesting in conversation, since you approached me. If I was mistaken, I am sorry for giving offense. Perhaps it's the proximity of the Walled City, but many in Heoi are quite...prickly.
{{GM}}The elf cocks his head, considering the question.{{/GM}}

I have definitely had worse nights, without a doubt. As, I suspect, have many who live here in Heoi. One need only look to the Walled City to see how far into misery and squalor one can fall.
{{GM}}$(scene.global_AljernonName) inclines his head politely.{{/GM}}

Hello again, my friend. Was there something else I could assist you with?
Counterstrike
Activate counterstrike.
Acid Stream I
A stream of acid that also does ongoing -6 HP for 1 RND. Strips 1 Armor from the target.
Acid: HP -6 per RND
The decadence of Tsang's administrative lobby is the first thing to hit you. The mood lighting, designer wallpaper, and the scent of burning lavender incense all blur together into a foreign landscape that feels more dangerous than the rotting alleys of Hong Kong. Even the plants seem to condescend to you in their hand-carved limestone pots.
Across the room from you stands a receptionist, three guards at her back. She seems unaware of, or at least indifferent to, your presence. But the guards behind her lock their eyes onto you and adjust their postures. Regardless, it appears to be a routine response, as the guard on the far right lifts a hand to his face and lets loose a long, loud yawn.
Security may look light, but we're not in yet. Words'll only get us so far. Things are bound to get heated eventually. Just be prepared to cover your ass when the bullets fly.

We've got a lot to get past before we can get to Raymond.
He's right. Keep our objective in sight.

Kindly said we can find information on Raymond's location in the security stations. It'll be tricky getting into them, but once we do, that's also where we can cut the alarm system.
Once we find Raymond, I'd be happy to help with his liberation.

{{GM}}She raps her fingers on her cyberdeck.{{/GM}}

Oh, and as for the Tsang security passes - we shouldn't rely solely on them. They'll help, but using them alongside our own wits will be most effective.
{{GM}}Gobbet points her thumb toward Duncan.{{/GM}}

What Gun Show said.

According to Kindly, we can find information on Raymond's location in the security stations. It'll be tricky getting into them, but once we do, that's also where we can cut the alarm system.
And remember, we need some impressive decking to get Raymond outta here.

{{GM}}She holds up the Tsang security passes.{{/GM}}

We also can't rely solely on these. They'll help us, but using them alongside our own wits will get us farther.
What a fantastic playground. Shame we don't have time to sabotage the company beyond releasing Raymond.

If memory serves, Kindly said we can find information on his location in the security stations. It'll be no small task getting into them, but once we do, that's also where we can cut the alarm system.
I believe it was also mentioned that, in order to free Raymond, we'll need a proficient decker. We mustn't forget that. And one more thing...

{{GM}}He motions to the Tsang security passes.{{/GM}}

We shouldn't rely solely on those. I'm sure they'll help, but using them alongside our own wits will be most effective.
{{GM}}Gaichu nods his head in agreement.{{/GM}}

We must keep our objective in sight.

Kindly said that we can find information on Raymond's location in the security stations. It may be difficult getting into them, but once we do, that's where we can cut the alarm system.
I believe it was also mentioned that, in order to free Raymond, we will need a proficient decker. We mustn't forget that. And one more thing...

{{GM}}He motions toward the Tsang security passes that you are shuffling in your hand.{{/GM}}

We should not rely solely on those IDs. They may help, but using them alongside our own wits will get us farther.
Let's not dwell here. There is much to do. Words may carry us through much of this, but I suggest a direct approach to handling our inevitable security encounters... We must be prepared to fight.

Retreat is not an option if we want to reach Raymond.
{{GM}}Gobbet points her thumb toward Gaichu.{{/GM}}

What Nibbles said.

According to Kindly, we can find information on Raymond's location in the security stations. It'll be tricky getting into them, but once we do, that's also where we can cut the alarm system.
{{GM}}Duncan nervously flexes his right hand next to the gun at his hip.{{/GM}}

No doubt about it. We've gotta keep our objective in sight.

Kindly said we can find information on the old man's location in the security stations. It'll be tricky getting into them, but once we do, that's also where we can cut the alarm system.
And remember, we'll need some impressive decking to get Raymond outta here.

{{GM}}He holds up the Tsang security passes.{{/GM}}

We also can't rely solely on these. They'll help, but using them along with your quick thinking will get us farther.
We've got one hell of a to-do list on our hands. Let's give ourselves some incentive. How about... dinner? We go in, we get out, and we head back in time for dinner. Sound like a plan?

I think we might be able to fool a good handful of these corporate slugs. But when push comes to shove, don't hesitate to throw a punch in there. Raymond needs our help.
She's right. Keep our objective in sight.

Kindly said we can find information on Raymond's location in the security stations. It'll be tricky getting into them, but once we do, that's also where we can cut the alarm system.
Let's not get distracted by too much corporate crap. Our objective is to find Raymond and get him out.

{{GM}}She raps her fingers on her cyberdeck.{{/GM}}

I'm ready to do *my* part. You can handle the talking.
We might get through this without conflict if we're careful, but if hell breaks loose, we can always fight our way to Raymond.
{{GM}}Gobbet points her thumb toward Is0bel.{{/GM}}

What she said.

According to Kindly, we can find information on Raymond's location in the security stations. It'll be tricky getting into them, but once we do, that's also where we can cut the alarm system.
While Izz has graciously volunteered to help with Raymond, there's another issue to consider...

{{GM}}She holds up the Tsang security passes.{{/GM}}

We also can't rely solely on these. They'll help us, but using them alongside our own wits will get us farther.
And another thing...

{{GM}}He holds up the Tsang security passes.{{/GM}}

We also can't rely solely on these. They'll help, but using them along with your quick thinking will get us farther.
And one more thing...

{{GM}}He motions toward the Tsang security passes that you are shuffling in your hand.{{/GM}}

We should not rely solely on those IDs. They may help, but using them alongside our own wits will get us farther.
And one more thing...

{{GM}}He motions to the Tsang security passes.{{/GM}}

We shouldn't rely solely on those. I'm sure they'll help, but using them alongside our own wits will be most effective.
{{GM}}Koschei fidgets at Racter's side.{{/GM}}

Step one, enter Tsang Mechanical Services. Check.

Step two, fool security. This should be... amusing.
Seems to me we can either talk our way through this corporation, or fight. Perhaps an organic combination of both.

I say we play it by ear. Whatever gets us to our goal.
{{GM}}Gobbet points her thumb toward Racter.{{/GM}}

What he said.

According to Kindly, we can find information on Raymond's location in the security stations. It'll be tricky getting into them, but once we do, that's also where we can cut the alarm system.
Is0bel and Duncan's briefing replays in your head.

Find a way inside the security stations, gather information on Raymond's location, and cut the alarm system.
To top it off, once you track down Raymond, you've got to employ your decking skills to get him out. Hopefully Kindly Cheng's security passes will get you past their checkpoints, along with some quick thinking. But if things get heated, you may have to break out the punches.

Whatever will get you to the old man.
Blocker IC passwords for the ASIST machine.
Engram Bank 1: Dawn
Engram Bank 2: Dusk
Engram Bank 3: Night
Engram Bank 4: Noon
Proximity Grenade
Test for creating a proximity mine.
Protect
Friends within a range of 3 squares gain Heavy Cover. Lasts 4 RNDS.
Protect: Heavy Cover
Channeled Haste III
Increases a friendly target's AP by 1 for 4 RNDS. The caster's accuracy is increased by 15% for 4 RNDs. Shares a cooldown with other Haste spells.
Haste: AP +1
Glue
The target cannot move but can still use AP to attack. Last 2 RNDS.
Glued: Cannot Move
{{GM}}The ragged waiter manages to straighten up as you approach.{{/GM}}

Good evening, $(l.sir). Welcome to the Veranda at the Repulse Bay. How may I be of service?
There's a heavy security door in Neville Ma's apartment. Know anything about that?
What's with the guard by the balcony?
I've got some questions about Neville Ma. Heard of him?
You look exhausted. Why don't you take a break?
About your money problems...
Sorry, I'm just a waiter. Seems you need someone from maintenance, but most of our janitors and handymen are off-site tonight.

{{GM}}He rolls his eyes.{{/GM}}

Can't risk the beautiful people bumping into them. It might offend their delicate sensibilities.
Look, I need to get through that door. It's important.
Look, we need to get through that door. It's important.
{{GM}}He lowers his voice.{{/GM}}

Tell you what. Try talking to Chef Kang in the kitchen. He's got keys to just about every door in the place.

On VIP request, he's expected to personally deliver their meal. It's a status thing. "Compliments of the chef," or whatever. Poor guy spends as much time delivering food as he does cooking it.
Worth a try. Thanks.
I'll think about it.
No problem. Just, uh... don't mention I sent you, alright? Chef's a vengeful man, so I don't wanna get on his bad side.
We need to get through that door. It's important.
{{GM}}The waiter opens his mouth to reply, then pauses.{{/GM}}

Just how do you know about that? When were *you* in Ma's apartment?
Doesn't matter. I just need to get through that door. Can you help me, or not?
A few days ago. I left something in there, and I need to get it back.
We don't want to cause a scene. I mean, we *could* go bother Ma during his party, but that would look just as bad for you as it would for us...
There's a private party outside, and our establishment provides security for any event that requires it. But don't worry, the balcony will be free again in a few hours.
{{GM}}His expression clouds.{{/GM}}

Certainly. *Everyone* knows Mr. Ma.
Yeah? What kind of a guy is he?
Between you and me, he's... difficult. Which is putting it lightly. Man runs the staff ragged.

{{GM}}He jerks his thumb in the direction of the Veranda.{{/GM}}

That's his party out there. Richies like him love to display their wealth.
Sounds like you have some stories.
{{GM}}He lowers his voice.{{/GM}}

Like you wouldn't believe.

He once made a handful of us walk all the way out to Shek O to fetch dumplings for his guests. It was pouring out, with winds blowing around fifty kilometers per hour.

Practically a death march in that weather.
What about the kitchen here? Couldn't dumplings be made in there?
Why didn't the kitchen here make Ma some dumplings?
Ma said the kitchen's dumplings weren't good enough. Called them "peasant food" in front of all his guests.

Chef Kang was furious, of course. But since Ma's rich, hotel management told us to give him whatever he wanted.
By the time we got back from Shek O, the dumplings were cold, the party was over, and Ma had retired to his suite with a pair of starlets.

We had to pay for those dumplings out of our own damn pockets. Couple days later, Kevin came down with pneumonia from the trip. Lost his job over it.
And that's just *one* of our experiences with him. Needless to say, no one here's a fan of the man. But we're paid to serve the tenants here, so that's what we do.

{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

It's a living.
Why didn't the kitchen here make him some dumplings?
Couldn't the kitchen have made him dumplings? Seems a simple request.
Why the long trip? Could he not have ordered dumplings from the kitchen?
What kind of a person is he?
Would you consider him a decent man?
Not yet. I can't afford to miss any tips.

{{GM}}He sighs.{{/GM}}

I went to Macau last week, and it wiped me out. Bad luck with the horses, you know?
Maybe I can help you out. A favor for a favor.
I'm in a pretty lucrative trade, myself. Care to make a deal?
Today's the day your luck changes. I'm willing to help you out... for some information.
That's a shame. Hope your night improves.
{{GM}}The waiter stares at you, suspicious, but his desperation gets the better of him.{{/GM}}

I'm listening...
I need access to a penthouse apartment. Name your price - I've got nuyen to spare.
You know what? Never mind.
Alright. Whose apartment?
Neville Ma's.
Nope. Never mind.
Five hundred nuyen and the code is yours.

{{GM}}He blurts it out without a second thought.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Charisma: 3{{/CC}} Two-fifty or I'm walking. Better something than nothing, right?
{{CC}}¥500{{/CC}} {{GM}}Bribe the waiter.{{/GM}} Done.
I don't have *that* much to spare! What do I look like - one of your tenants? How about I just give you what's in my pockets, and we call it good?
Holy hell. Are you a waiter or a robber? I can't give you that!
Too rich for my blood.
The code is 1635.

{{GM}}He whips out his PDA and glances at the bank balance. A satisfied grin lights up his face.{{/GM}}

Oh, and if you get caught, I didn't tell you anything.
Of course not. I've never spoken to you in my life.
No promises.
{{GM}}His smile widens.{{/GM}}

Have fun with Ma's things. If some were to go missing, maybe wind up at a pawn shop, I doubt they'd be missed.
{{GM}}He scowls at you.{{/GM}}

"Nuyen to spare" my ass. That makes you a liar *and* a cheapskate.

{{GM}}After a moment, he holds out his hand.{{/GM}}

But... I'm willing to work with this. Every bit helps.
{{GM}}Give him all of your money.{{/GM}} Don't spend it all in one place.
On second thought, I might need this down the line. Never mind.
Seriously? Where's your "nuyen to spare"? You must be a special kind of deadbeat to show up at a high-class hotel and attempt to bribe its staff with an empty wallet and hot air.
{{GM}}Something in the waiter's face softens as he looks at you.{{/GM}}

Aaw, hell. If you're really that bad off, you need the money more than I do. The code is 1635. If you get caught, we never talked. Got it?

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.
Suit yourself.
Alright, $(l.sir). Enjoy your day.
Well, it can only get better from here.
{{GM}}His brow furrows, but he looks sheepish.{{/GM}}

Yeah? What about them?
Good evening, $(l.sir). Welcome to the Veranda at... Oh, it's you again. What do you need this time?
The Talon bursts out of the Shangri-La, nearly tearing the doors from their hinges. Despite the fleshy lumps that have transformed his face into an unreadable swollen mess, his rage is clear.
{{GM}}At the sight of the Talon, you see Rooster's body relax. His voice cracks.{{/GM}}

Talon! I'm over here! I've got weapons trained on me - can't move. Save me, and we'll get out of here. Take this incident straight to the top. They'll herald our survival, reward us--
{{GM}}Through leaking eyes, the Talon homes in on Rooster.{{/GM}}

You little shit. Dragging me to this restaurant over and over... Making me eat filth, or watch you stuff your goddamn face full of it.

And now, here you are, turned traitor in blink.
{{GM}}Rooster is trembling with fear... or anger. Or both. He raises a shaky finger and points it at the Talon.{{/GM}}

You can't speak to me that way. You're beneath me! I'm still a Red Pole, and when the triad comes for me, I'll see you flayed for those words.
Hah!

{{GM}}The laugh punches the air. Talon's lips curve into a clumsy smile, eyes gleaming.{{/GM}}

You won't get shit from the 289s. In fact, if your new allies don't gut you, the triad will. Make sure you don't go squawking to anybody 'bout high-level plans or secrets or whatever. A flea like you won't last the night.
{{GM}}Rooster's fake bravado melts away. Eyes wide, he looks desperately around him, trapped like a mouse in a snake's coil - enemies on each side. His voice is small, pleading.{{/GM}}

Talon... *Johnny,* please. Please help me. It wasn't all bad, right? We had some good runs. You remember.
{{GM}}Panic shakes him.{{/GM}}

I had no choice, Johnny! I was forced to surrender! But if you help me - get me out of here - I can see to it that you're rewarded. Even promoted! How would you like that?
{{GM}}Without hesitation, the Talon takes a step forward and spits on the ground.{{/GM}}

To hell with you, you spineless bit pusher. I'll bet you didn't even put up a fight. Just rolled over and played the captive. Coward!

I'm going to enjoy planting a bullet in your soft, worthless skull.

{{GM}}He readies his weapon.{{/GM}}
The Talon bursts out of the Shangri-La, nearly tearing the doors from their hinges. The lines of his face are twisted in intense rage.
{{GM}}The Talon homes in on Rooster.{{/GM}}

You little shit. Dragging me to this restaurant over and over... Making me eat filth, or watch you stuff your goddamn face full of it.

And now, here you are, turned traitor in blink.
Hah!

{{GM}}The laugh punches the air. Talon gives Rooster a wicked smile, eyes gleaming.{{/GM}}

You won't get shit from the 289s. In fact, if your new allies don't gut you, the triad will. Make sure you don't go squawking to anybody 'bout high-level plans or secrets or whatever. A flea like you won't last the night.
There's the traitor. It won't take nothin' for that coward to spill our secrets, so put a bullet in his brain.

{{GM}}The guard motions to you.{{/GM}}

Man who downs the runner gets a drink - on me. Now move!
Catering Uniform
A size 4 uniform from the "Pastry Magic & More!" catering company.
Deadeye Shot
Increases accuracy by 20%. Pierces up to 3 Armor. Shares a cooldown with other Aim attack abilities.
Shiawase Magnet Arm
Originally designed for use in construction, this arm features an industrial magnet. Passive: When incoming grenades target the user, they are automatically flung back to their source.
Petrify
Target loses all AP for 2 rounds and cannot attack or move. Lasts 2 RNDS.
Petrified: All AP Lost
Cast Mana Static
AOE AP attack
This terminal belongs to Bao's people. I bet that we can get something useful out of it.
The terminal is locked with a password prompt.
{{GM}}Ask Is0bel to jack in.{{/GM}}
This terminal looks like it might yield something valuable - if you can crack it.
{{GM}}Attempt to log in.{{/GM}}
Confusion
Target switches to your team and attacks your enemies. Lasts 2 RNDS.
Confused
Force 6 Devil Rat Fetish
Summons a Force 6 Devil Rat spirit. The fetish is consumed when used.
Colt Cobra TZ-110 (Smartlink)
SMG: A milspec submachine gun that's easily found on the streets, with an integral Smartlink system.
Hey, over here!

{{GM}}Kara and her partner stand waiting. She waves to you.{{/GM}}

We've been waiting for you.
{{GM}}Her partner, a rotund, quiet little man, gestures at a door behind him.{{/GM}}

It's just this way, and then we can take the ladders down below.
Why are we going down further?
You know you seem awfully keen on rushing us through here, deeper into this rat hole. Why is that?
Shouldn't we clear the other parts of this deck?
We know what's happening here, we even know some of you tried to hurt one another. Some even tried to scuttle the Sinking Ship!
I need to finish something up before we go any further.
We're going to try and fix the sinking ship, at it's core.
You have yet to tell us how we are supposed to fix this, or even what we are supposed to fix.
Got it, let's go.
Ok that's fine, but I have to finish something else first.
As we've said, we must fix the ship at it's core.
What are you trying to fix? The infestation?
Yes of course.
{{GM}}Question{{/GM}} I've seen enough on this ship to know that there is not simply a devil rat infestation. Fess up.
{{GM}}Threaten{{/GM}} I am sick your constant evasion, tell me what I want to know or I am going to break you.
{{GM}}Accuse{{/GM}} People are missing, there is human blood around, and others are saying they can't trust eachother. You know where they have gone, and I imagine you're trying to lure use there as well.
{{GM}}Their eyes go wide and you see a glint of near red in them as they hiss loudly at you.{{/GM}}

Whether we lure you or not, you'll fall all the same!

You are intent on asking, so we will tell you. She requires your presence, and we grow tired of your dawdling. You will come with us now.
{{GM}}Their eyes go wide and you see a glint of near red in them as they hiss loudly at you.{{/GM}}

You can kill us, but the nest will survive.
{{GM}}Their eyes go wide and you see a glint of near red in them as they hiss loudly at you.{{/GM}}

Whether we lure you or not, you'll fall all the same!
The occasional devil rat, we can handle. We need your, and Gobbet's, help to fix this mess at it's root.
Makes sense, but I can't help but feel like we're leaving people who need help up here.
Alright, after you.
We look after eachother, the others left here will watch over eachother.
Fair enough. Let's go.
I need to finish something else, so I'll be right back.
You've spun a lot of drek, I'm saving this ship, and you're in my way.
Easy Gobbet, we're here to help.
She's right you know, you've done nothing but impede us. You're in our way, and you're working to hurt us.
I'm tired of this, you're dead.
{{GM}}She nods{{/GM}}

Please, just let us pass and we will fix this. Don't make us hurt you.
You're done, out of my way, or I'll put you down.
{{GM}}Tapping $(s.his) foot impatiently.{{/GM}}

Right, well we need to get going so come on back as soon as your ready.
Cast Nerve Bolt
Does minor damage, but unbalances the target making them easier to hit.
Claw Swipe
A crushing claw attack that does -15 HP DMG.
Customized Slivergun
Pistol: This weapon fires flechette, which can cause mild to extreme bleeding in the target.
Yamaha Pulsar
Taser: The Pulsar has a higher capacity and range than the standard taser.
Single Target. One bullet. Increases accuracy by 20%.
Dispel Spell
Cast a dispel spell.
Cast Inferno Power
Direct on-going fire damage attack
Prototype Sniping Laser
Rifle: This heavy laser rifle has low capacity before requiring a "reload" battery swap. Pierces up to 2 Armor. It is slightly more accurate than a traditional weapon.
Shred Armor
Accuracy -5%, DMG -3. Strips 3 Armor. Can hit adjacent targets at ranges of 6 or greater.
Lightning Barrier
Set 5 Medium Cover barriers that last 3 RNDS. Anyone that enters takes -7 HP and -1 AP DMG.
Fichetti Frag Grenade
Fichetti's basic frag grenade.
Identify Armor
Identifies and transmits weaknesses in the target's armor, effectively reducing it by 2.
Custom Sandler TMP
SMG: Gobbet has customized this old Sandler TMP, shaving off weight and bulk.
Force 4 Devil Rat Fetish
Summons a Force 2 Devil Rat spirit. The fetish is consumed when used.
Heal Wound
Heal last damage taken.
Hand-Forged Katana
Melee: A work of art and a deadly weapon. May do AP DMG on a critical hit.
Phosphorus Grenade
Packed with phosphorus this grenade explodes causing an additional 4 HP DMG for 3 RNDS. Strips 1 Armor from the target.
Fire: -4 HP
A dark-skinned man in an expensive suit stands at the far end of the room. A cord tethers his datajack to a port in the hotel wall.

His eyes are glazed over, dead to the world.
He's jacked into the hotel's media library. Probably enjoying some slick, professionally-produced simsense fantasy, or something like that.

{{GM}}She chuckles.{{/GM}}

He doesn't even know that I'm in the room.
Might as well look around a little, then. But be quick.
Good. Then you can get out of there undetected.
Um. Are you sure that you want to be in there?
A cyberdeck sits on the table opposite Is0bel. She rotates her PDA to give you a view.

It's a custom job, pieced together from components pulled from a dozen other machines. Looks a lot like the Octopus, only smaller.
The display has been pulled from a Fuchi model designed for export into the UCAS, with a chrome bezel and red LED accent lights.

The keyboard is a mechanical relic, with round, heavy keys that appear to have been salvaged from a typewriter. Judging by the Pashto characters emblazoned on the keys, it's probably of Pakistani make.
The case is a heavily-modified Renraku design. You can see components from at least a dozen other manufacturers jutting out of it.

At least a dozen other elements jump out at you, each stranger than the last. A custom stamp on the case labels it as the property of "The Binary Bard."
{{GM}}Is0bel stares at the monstrosity, her jaw hanging open.{{/GM}}

That might just be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
Grab it, then. But hurry - you need to keep moving.
Leave it on the table and go, Is0bel.
Is0bel grabs the cyberdeck in both hands and heaves. It doesn't budge.

On the other side of the room, the decker jolts back to life. He turns to face Is0bel, his motions strangely languid.
Excuse me. That deck is mine.

{{GM}}His tone is calm. Conversational.{{/GM}}

It's also maglocked to the surface of my desk. Now stop touching it, please, or I'll be forced to call security.
Say: Sorry! I'm with housekeeping!
Say: I heard that you had the most impressive cyberdeck at the show. I had to see it for myself.
Say: I was actually looking for the bathroom.
"Sorry."

{{GM}}She withdraws her hands and clasps them demurely in front of her.{{/GM}}

"I'm with housekeeping."
Really? Then where's your cart, and why are you wearing a catering uniform?

{{GM}}He crosses his arms over his chest.{{/GM}}

And more to the point... why were you handling my cyberdeck?
I couldn't resist. It's a beautiful piece of work.
To hell with it, pull your gun and demand the key for the maglock. What's he gonna do about it, cry?
Look, I'm just going to leave. Sorry for the intrusion.
I couldn't resist. That deck is gorgeous... you do really beautiful work.
{{GM}}She reaches for her weapon.{{/GM}}

You'll be powering off that maglock if you know what's good for you. And keep quiet if you want to li--
{{GM}}Without a second's hesitation, he slaps a PanicButton on his belt.

Alarms begin to blare.{{/GM}}

That was stupid of you. And I don't even have the key for the lock on me... it's in a safe deposit box. But hey, enjoy dealing with security. Here they come now.
Yeah. You do that. And, please... don't come back.

I don't want to have to call security any more than you do. I hate dealing with those people.
"I heard that you had the most impressive cyberdeck at the show. I had to see it for myself."
That's true, I do. That doesn't give you a right to break into my room and fondle it, though.

Now. You wanna tell me what a caterer cares about custom hardware?
Say: I don't care about the hardware. But there are plenty of deckers here who do.
Say: I'm not a caterer, I'm an attendee. I spilled something on my clothes, this was the only thing that the hotel had in my size.
Say: Yeah, I'm a caterer, but that's just a job. Decking is my life.
"I don't care about the hardware. But there are plenty of deckers here who do."
I knew it. Somebody sent you here.

{{GM}}He shakes his head sadly.{{/GM}}

Who was it? Harridan? Gyges? Some corporate whore from Fuchi?
{{GM}}Is0bel responds to his question immediately.{{/GM}}

No one in specific. I'm not on anybody's payroll. But if you'd be willing to part with your deck, I'm thinking that I could change that.
"I'm not a caterer, I'm an attendee. I spilled something on my clothes, this was the only thing that the hotel had in my size."
Keep talking.

{{GM}}He doesn't sound convinced.{{/GM}}
Yeah. You know how clumsy these servers can be. Frankly, I'm embarrassed to be dressed like one.
Hey, look, I'm clumsy. It's a character flaw. Sue me.
"Yeah. You know how clumsy these servers can be.

"Frankly, I'm embarrassed to be dressed like one."
{{GM}}He sighs. Rubs the bridge of his nose.{{/GM}}

Look. You're a really terrible liar, and I was having a good time before you tried to jack my deck. So I'm gonna give you a choice... you can tell me what you want, you can back on up out of here, or I can call security.

Neither of us wants me to do number three.
{{GM}}She doesn't wait for a response.{{/GM}}

Your deck. It's a beautiful piece of workmanship, and I want it.

Maybe I could buy it off of you?
She's not for sale. Tell you what, though... I *could* be convinced to let you crack the case open and take a look inside.

{{GM}}He stifles a yawn.{{/GM}}

Maybe you could learn a thing or two.
All right, Is0bel. Thank the man, look at the box, and get the hell out of there.
To hell with that. Pull your gun and make him turn off the maglock. He's gotta have a key.
Politely decline and walk away. We've wasted too much time on this already.
Hey, man, thanks. Really - I appreciate it. I always love looking at custom builds.
No problem. There's a case release catch under the parallel port. Give her a once-over, take notes if you want.

When you're finished, be sure to close the door behind you.
"Hey, look, I'm clumsy. It's a character flaw. Sue me."
"Yeah, I'm a caterer, but that's just a job."

{{GM}}She looks the decker in the eye, and her voice grows deadly serious.{{/GM}}

"Decking is my life."
All right. You love decking. Sure. Everybody needs a hobby.

So here's what we're gonna do. I'm giving you a choice. You can tell me what you want, you can back on up out of here, or I can call security.

Neither of us wants me to do number three.
"I was actually looking for the bathroom."
And you thought that my hotel room was a public bathroom.

Riiight.
The hell with it. Just take the deck and get over here.
Tell him that you're sorry, and that you're really drunk. It won't happen again.
Tell him that you're leaving and get out. No more fooling around.
Sorry. I'm, uh... I'm really drunk.

It won't happen again.
{{GM}}She lets loose a sigh of resignation.{{/GM}}

...All right, I'm leaving. Sorry to have bothered you.
Yes. Please. Go.

Get out, and don't come back.
Yeah, sure, but there's something that I want to look at first...
Make it quick.
No, Is0bel. We're not here for this. Get out of there, now.
...All right. Fine. I'm leaving.

Spoilsport.
Yes. There's something on the table over there that I want to see.
{{GM}}A tubby man with a twice-broken nose glances up at you from a pile of gun parts. He offers you a gap-toothed smile.{{/GM}}

Nice firearms here - good for protection. You got a husband or wife? You got kids? You keep 'em safe with one of these beauties.

Quality is guaranteed. Your satisfaction is everything. You want to buy?
Show me what you've got.
Bao know you're selling guns in his area?
How do you stand it here?
Ever heard anyone say, "Prosperity is in the Walled City"?
No thanks. Gotta run.
Anything else?
Got Bao's permission to sell weapons in this stall. Been sellin' a lot of 'em - even more than usual.

{{GM}}He grins.{{/GM}}

That's good for me.
Business is good here, $(l.man). Real good.

Yeah, it's disgusting, but you go where the market is.
{{GM}}He snorts his reply.{{/GM}}

If you're an organlegger, or a gunrunner, or a triad, there sure-as-shit is. Otherwise, you're looking at a hand-to-mouth, meal-to-meal existence here.
Back for more?

{{GM}}He sifts through the gun parts laid out in front of him.{{/GM}}

You got cash, I can help you.
Lightning Barrier 1
Set 3 Medium Cover barriers that last 3 RNDS. Anyone that enters takes -6 HP and -1 AP DMG.
Vindicator Minigun
Rifle: Six rotating barrels with an impressive rate of fire.
Cast Powerbolt
The Rat King's body shudders and convulses. As you watch, the living carpet of devil rats that forms the majority of its bulk begins to writhe.
Malvina opens her mouth to speak, but you'll never know what she was going to say. The only sound that escapes from her throat is a long, ragged scream.

With a dawning horror, you come to realize what you're looking at. The devil rats that surround Malvina are turning inward.
She is being eaten alive.
Gobbet stares, dead-eyed, at her former friend as the swarm that is bound to her rips her body apart. Black blood pours in rivers to the aluminum-lined floor.
Come on, Gobbet. Let's get the hell out of here.
That's what you get, monster.
You go if you want to. I'm watching this.

I owe Malvina that much.
The ghastly feast unfolding before you continues long after Malvina's screams have died away.

Finally satisfied, Gobbet nods to you.
This raft is ours. It's over.

{{GM}}Her PDA buzzes. She glances down at it, then turns the screen so that you can see.

Cadmus's grim visage fills the screen.{{/GM}}
I don't know what you just did, but whatever it was, it worked. Those rat... things... turned on Malvina's loyalists.

{{GM}}He wheezes into his mask, gulping in purified air.{{/GM}}

And... when they got done eating 'em... they started eating each other.
{{GM}}Gobbet stares down at the Shiny Object that she holds clutched in her hands.{{/GM}}

Yeah. I know. I told them to, right after I did the same to the Rat King.

Malvina's dead, Cad.
You did good, Gobbet... you and your friends. We won.

Come on up topside. A celebration is in order--
{{GM}}She shakes her head.{{/GM}}

No, Cad. No celebrations, and no milling around. You can keep this place - I'm done with it. Too many bad memories.

And besides all of that, you've got a hell of a mess on your hands. I'll be damned if I'm gonna help clean it up.
You've already helped us clean up, Gobbet. We'll always owe you for that.
Yeah, well. Let's not make a big thing out of it.

G'bye, Cad. And good luck.

{{GM}}She flicks the PDA off. The screen goes dark.{{/GM}}
Captain Jomo is still waiting for us outside. Ready to go home?
Beyond ready.

{{GM}}She passes the Shiny Object from one hand to the other, scowling.{{/GM}}

And this stupid thing is taking a one-way trip to the bottom of the bay.
Sure you don't want to sell it? You could probably get good money for that thing.
You could hang onto it yourself if you wanted. You know how powerful that thing is.
C'mon, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname).

Let's go home.
Fuck no. Haven't you been paying attention?

{{GM}}She shakes her head in exasperation.{{/GM}}

I swear. It's like you haven't learned a thing I've taught you.
That was a test. Congratulations, you passed.
I was joking, Gobbet.
Guess I'm a slow learner.
{{GM}}There's a long pause. Slowly, the corner of her mouth tilts upward.{{/GM}}

C'mon, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). C'mon, Izz.

Let's bury this thing at sea and go home.
{{GM}}There's a long pause. Slowly, the corner of her mouth tilts upward.{{/GM}}

Yeah, I guess so. But it's *my* devil-egg, and I can bury it at sea if I want to.

C'mon, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). C'mon, Izz. Let's do what we have to do and go home.
C'mon, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). Let's go find Cad and see how the mutiny is goi--
{{GM}}Is0bel raises her voice, cutting her off.{{/GM}}

Hate to break it to you, but I don't think that they're doing very well.
She turns her PDA to show you the screen. A grainy video feed of the upper hallways of the Sinking Ship crackles on the display.
Izz? What's this?
I, uh... I managed to patch in to some old security cameras while you were watching that thing eat itself.

I'm afraid I've got some bad news.
Oh, no.

{{GM}}She stares, open-mouthed, at the grainy picture on the PDA's luminous screen.{{/GM}}

They... they didn't make it, did they?
{{GM}}Is0bel shakes her head. Clicks the screen off.{{/GM}}

No, Gobbet. I don't think they did.

Nothing is moving up there. It's like a graveyard. I can see the signs of a fight, but it looks like Cadmus and his people got overwhelmed.
Damn it.

{{GM}}She closes her eyes.{{/GM}}

Sorry, Yaz. Sorry, Cad.
There's nothing left for us here, Gobbet.

{{GM}}She glares at the Shiny Object.{{/GM}}

Let's pitch that stupid rock overboard, get back on Jomo's boat, and go home.
$(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). Let's go find Cad and tell him that the whole "we're sinking the raft" thing was a false ala--
{{GM}}Is0bel raises her voice, cutting her off.{{/GM}}

Um, Gobbet... I don't know how to break this to you, but...
She turns her PDA to show you the screen. A grainy video feed of the upper hallways of the Sinking Ship crackles on the display.

You're looking at a room full of floatation devices - deflated rafts, life jackets, life preservers. The floor is covered in a slick of blood, and half-eaten corpses lie strewn about the floor.
Oh, no.
Yeah. It looks like Cad and his people got overwhelmed while they were trying to make their way off of the raft. It's like a graveyard up there... nothing's moving, not any more.

{{GM}}She clicks the display back off, and the video feed goes black.{{/GM}}

Sorry.
$(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). Let's go find Cad and tell him what happened. I'm sure that he'll be--
She turns her PDA to show you the screen. A grainy video feed of the upper hallways of the Sinking Ship crackles on the display.

You're looking at the sickroom that you met Cadmus in. It looks like a slaughterhouse; blood drips from the walls, and half-eaten bodies litter the floor.
{{GM}}As she stares a the display, Gobbet's cheeks drain of color.{{/GM}}

Oh, no.
Yeah. It looks like the Rat King must've decided to take Cad and his people down with it. And without knowing what was going on with us, he had no way of knowing to expect it.

{{GM}}She clicks the display back off, and the video feed goes black.{{/GM}}

Sorry.
Somewhere in there, a friend of mine is dying.
She was already dead.
The door has been sealed with a factory-fresh maglock. A highsec keypad has been set into the frame.
{{GM}}Enter a keycode.{{/GM}}
The keypad awaits your input.
6378
7881
The door unlocks.
Silver Necklace
This is a small silver necklace. The pendant depicts a magpie in flight.
Full Auto Fire
5 attacks in one round that do half or normal damage. -15% to hit. Uses 10 bullets.
Lightning Barrier 2
Set 4 Medium Cover barriers that last 3 RNDS. Anyone that enters takes -6 HP and -1 AP DMG.
Tsang Magical Formula
A magical formula found in Prosperity tower. It uses trace amounts of orichalcum that when vaporized under heat creates an astral shock of a particular nature.
Temple Access Card
A specialized badge, reserved for only the most important employees. It will allow the elevator to travel to the secluded temple at the top of Wuxing Skytower.
Blindness
Target is blinded and cannot see or attack targets. Lasts 2 RNDS.
Blinded
Mangler
Augment Ability:
Repair
The cooldown on Racter's Toolkit's Repair ability is reduced from 5 RNDs to 3 RNDs.
Gain Ability: Rotary Saw
Racter's drone Koschei gains a mounted sawblade arm in the Melee Systems. This attack's critical chance is greatly boosted. Cooldown: 2.
Basic hack attack, does 25 IP damage.
Gain Ability: Rip and Tear
Koschei gains a new ability in the Melee System, where its legs latch on and tear armor away from the target. Strips 4 Armor. Cooldown: 2.
As you disengage from the terminal, the screen dims.
{{GM}}Is0bel frowns. Her eyes are locked on the screen.{{/GM}}

Either Ma's a saint, or he's godly at covering his tracks. There wasn't a single incriminating detail on that computer.
Yeah, what a bust. I was hoping we'd find more.
Yeah, I was hoping we'd find more.
We're going to the party now, right? I mean, that *is* the logical next step.

Tell me we're going to the party.
Let's party.
Not now. I want to keep looking around.
I suppose that means we need to head downstairs.

To the party.

This should be... interesting.
Guess that means we're going to the party after all. Hopefully Ma's feeling chatty.
Well, then. I suppose it's time for us to attend the gala.

Hopefully Ma will prove more informative than his computer.
Guess that means we're going to the party. Hope Ma's more useful than this junker.
Neville wasn't much help, either.

Guess we should search the place. The man lives here, so there's gotta be *something* that'll help us.
Ma didn't tell us anything useful, either. Guess we're gonna have to search the apartment.

{{GM}}He pulls out a pair of gloves and tugs them on.{{/GM}}

The man lives here, so we're bound to find *something.*
Ma didn't say much when we talked to him, either. A singularly useless man.

I suppose there's only one thing left to do - turn his apartment upside-down and shake it until something helpful falls out.
Ma didn't say much of value when we talked to him, either.

You're going to have to search the apartment, $(l.name). Turn it upside down. There must be something in here we can use.
Were you planning on helping me with that?
Meanwhile, you'll do what? Take a nap?
I could use your help, Gaichu.
I'm essentially blind, so I'm afraid I cannot help.

{{GM}}He stifles a yawn.{{/GM}}

Enjoy.
Ma didn't have much to say when we talked to him at the party, either.

{{GM}}She scowls.{{/GM}}

Guess we'll have to search his apartment. There has to be *something* helpful in here.
{{GM}}Racter turns toward you, his dissatisfaction obvious.{{/GM}}

That was less fruitful than I'd hoped. There were some interesting details, but nothing incriminating. Nothing conclusive.
That was a waste of time. Ma's computer was squeaky clean - no incriminating evidence, nothing.

Nobody's that clean, $(l.name). He's probably paying someone to cover his tracks for him.
Boooring. Nothing juicy at all. Just a bunch of bland business-talk.

{{GM}}She lets the statement hang for a moment before continuing.{{/GM}}

...You know what *isn't* bland, $(l.name)? Pheasant. Like the roasted one I smelled downstairs. It's probably sitting on Ma's buffet table right now.

*Right now.*
Nothing useful on Ma's computer. Surprising. I expected something incriminating to turn up, no matter the size.
I know you're in a hurry, but we should hack that terminal. There must be *something* in Ma's files.
Later. Let's keep looking around for now.
You're right. Let's do it.
Tell me again *why* we went on this run without a deck. There was bound to be a computer full of information. Like this one. Right here.
Yeah. My bad.
There's always another way. Let's keep looking around.
I suppose it's back to scrummaging through Ma's place. Let's get this over with.
Augment Weapon: Melee Systems
Racter's drone Koschei gains clawed feet. This causes all attacks on the Melee Systems to bleed targets for 2 DMG per RND for 2 RNDs.
Increase Attribute: Move Speed
Racter's drone Koschei gains +1 Movement Speed, moving 7 tiles per 1 AP.
There is a ladder here leading upwards, toward a hatch.

Upon closer inspection, you see that the hatch is locked with a huge electronic deadbolt. There don't appear to be any physical controls for the bolt.
Despite the table's crude construction, an artfully laid meal awaits the owner. Several small dishes are filled with pickled vegetables, while a larger plate is arranged with long slices of raw meat. The meat is a pale pinkish-white, like raw pork, and is covered in a light soy marinade.
Poking at the raw meat, you discover that it's surprisingly tender. What's more, it has the faint aroma of marinade, as if deliberately prepared.
{{GM}}Eat some.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Leave the meat alone.{{/GM}}
The flesh is a little tougher than you would expect, but surprisingly flavorful. There's no bitterness or gristle to it. In a few moments, you finish the small piece, and it leaves only the barest hint of an aftertaste in your mouth.
{{GM}}Gobbet watches you eat, her mouth slowly falling open.{{/GM}}

All right, $(l.name). I know I love food, but you take it to a whole new level.
I mean, we walked into a basement stockroom which is obviously inhabited by somebody. What's the first thing you do? Steal their dinner.

That's just cold.
{{GM}}Duncan stares at you. You can feel his gaze even through his goggles.{{/GM}}

So is this how it's going to be, then?
How what's going to be?
We go on shadowruns, find strange hideouts... and you eat their food?

You've gotten really weird since you left, you know that?
{{GM}}Racter watches you, slowly arcing one brow.{{/GM}}

Ahh. An evening repast prepared by whoever is hiding down here. And what do you do?

You eat it.
So what?
I was hungry!
I'm just saying: the next time I seem strange to you, reflect on your own behavior here.
So we walk in, and you go right for the food and scarf it down?

{{GM}}Is0bel shakes her head slowly.{{/GM}}

You're strange, $(l.name). Real strange.
The air above the bloody rags shimmers. Slowly, something close to man-shaped coalesces into being. A soft voice echoes out from deep inside - as if it began somewhere else.
<...What... is... this?>

{{GM}}The spirit peers at you through eyes as soft and undefined as poached eggs.{{/GM}}

<Where am I?>
You're dead. I'm sorry.
You've shed your body. You're a spirit now.
Kowloon. The Walled City.
<I... am...?>

{{GM}}It raises its hands to examine them, blank eyes sweeping over dead flesh.{{/GM}}

<...How...?>
You don't know what happened?
What's the last thing you remember?
<I was... pushed out of my shop... hunted through alleys... I...>

{{GM}}The spirit's mouth widens in horror.{{/GM}}

<Bao. Bao and his men. I wouldn't pay them... wouldn't accept their protection...>
<...Proud...I was too proud...>

{{GM}}A cold light flares from somewhere deep its throat.{{/GM}}

<...They tore me apart... butchered me like a duck... they...>
It searches the sky, the ground - tearing at the memories inside itself. As it relives its own death, a network of deep cuts opens in its waxy skin, spattering black ichor on the ground.
The cold light within it grows brighter. It pulses up the thing's throat and into its mouth, forcing its jaw to unhinge like a snake's.

A burning radiance pours out of the spirit's mouth like vomit, spattering to the ground in an ectoplasmic flood of anger and despair.
Well, *that* was nasty.
If I were in your shoes, I'd want revenge.
Maybe you can help us.
<Bao... Bao and his men...>
Yes, we want to find them.
You want them to pay, don't you?
{{GM}}It looks confused. Lost.{{/GM}}

<I... can... I don't...>
<...YES!... REVENGE!...>

{{GM}}The resonance of the words penetrates you. Scrapes at something inside you.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Gobbet gives you a sidelong glance.{{/GM}}

Careful, $(l.lastname). Cheng didn't want any Yellow Lotus killed.
<RE... VENGE...>

{{GM}}The spirit's spidery fingers twitch. They begin to curl, then taper, then blacken until they're a set of wicked-sharp hooks. The spirit looks at you expectantly.{{/GM}}
See those guards? They're Bao's men. Bao - the one who had you cut to pieces.
Wait. Maybe you should let all that hatred go. Be better than them. Could you get me into Bao's Lotus Den peacefully?
{{GM}}The cold light flames even brighter. It gleefully shambles toward the unsuspecting triad soldiers.{{/GM}}

<DIE, PIGS!>
{{GM}}The spirit's eyes roll in its head and it shudders, struggling to let the passion dissipate.{{/GM}}

<...I... I had a... friend...>

{{GM}}It squeezes its eyes shut as it struggles to remember.{{/GM}}

<A smuggler... of... animals... He had a space... hidden... secret...>
Yes, spirit. Tell me about the secret space.
You know what? Screw it. You deserve your revenge. See those guards? They work for Bao - the man who had you killed.
<...An entrance... in the sublevels...>

{{GM}}The spirit clasps its head in its hands.{{/GM}}

<A chute... a door... red paint ...and numbers... 5-4-6-5... 5-4-6-5...>
Thank you, spirit.
{{GM}}The entity squeezes its eyes shut and turns away.{{/GM}}

<...5-4-6-5... 5-4-6-5... 5-4-6-5...>
{{GM}}Is0bel gives you a sidelong glance.{{/GM}}

Cheng didn't want any Yellow Lotus killed, $(l.lastname).
<...Help?...>

{{GM}}It looks confused. Lost.{{/GM}}

<I... can...>
You can get us past Bao's guards and into the Walled City. So we can find him.
You could take out Bao's guards. Give them some of what they gave you.
<...The... last thing...>

{{GM}}The spirit searches the sky for an answer.{{/GM}}
<...Spirit...?>
His expression changes. Moves from lost to found.
<...Still...?>

{{GM}}It raises its hands to examine them, blank eyes sweeping over dead flesh.{{/GM}}

<...How...?>
Class A Drone Mortar
Force 5 Devil Rat Fetish
Summons a Force 5 Devil Rat spirit. The fetish is consumed when used.
Mana Static
An area effect spell that increases the cost of magic by 1 AP. Lasts for 3 RNDS.
Mana Static: Spell AP Cost +1
Wired Reflexes
A network of neural boosters and adrenal stimulators that effectively supercharge a user's reflexes. Passive: +1 Movement. When triggered, gain +1 AP. Lasts 2 RNDS. Cost: 0 AP. Cooldown: 4.
Wired Reflexes: AP +1
Bomb
Explodes self.
{{GM}}The woman eyes your uniform. She smiles.{{/GM}}

Something I can do for you?
Just a routine check for maintenance issues. Things in running order here?
Not really. See you around.
Absolutely. We have no problems here. But my office rarely does - our Sales team is Tsang's top performer.

The Contracts & Acquisitions team to the south of us, however... I'd check in with them, $(l.sir). They're bound to be mired in technical problems, as one would expect from professional slackers.
Oh, hello...

{{GM}}The woman's eyes search you, like she's trying to remember whether she's met you before.{{/GM}}

Can I help you?
I'm fine. Just have a few minutes before my next meeting. Taking a look around.
Just passing through.
{{GM}}Her expression sours.{{/GM}}

Then I suppose you must be from Contracts & Acquisitions. When will your team stop pestering us?
I think you have me mistaken for someone else.
Calm down, I'm not from Acquisitions. Sounds like you're not fond of that team, though.
Oh, I'm so sorry, I just assumed...

You must be here for an interview, then. Should your meeting go well, my team - the Sales division - is the most successful in the department, and has even exceeded company expectations. As an apology, if you apply to Sales, I'd be happy to put your application on the top of our review queue.
How considerate.
{{GM}}She crosses her arms. Satisfaction radiates from her smile.{{/GM}}

That's Sales for you. And if Acquisitions happens to approach you, just tell them you're with us.
I appreciate that. See you around.
{{GM}}She crosses her arms.{{/GM}}

Well, don't think for too long. Opportunities to join my team are highly coveted. This offer won't last forever.
Oh, I'm so sorry, I just assumed...

You must be here for an interview, then. Word of advice: don't apply to the Contracts & Acquisitions team. They're nothing but a bunch of slackers, with no work ethic and little in the way of professional manners. At least once a day, they send someone over here to gather intel on our performance.
Listen, about before: should your meeting go well, my team - the Sales division - is the most successful in the department, and has even exceeded company expectations. As an apology, if you apply to Sales, I'd be happy to put your application on the top of our review queue.
How can I help you, $(l.sir)?
Got word of a level-eight maintenance issue right here in your office. If it's not fixed now, things will get messy. I need everyone out of this room for the next half hour.
{{GM}}Her mouth drops open, but after the initial surprise drains away, she looks doubtful.{{/GM}}

What kind of issue are we talking about?
{{CC}}Strength:$(story.Global_Skillcheck_Medium){{/CC}} I don't have time to explain the intricacies to a suit. It'll go right over your head. Now get your people out of here before I quarantine the area!
{{CC}}Etiquette: Academic{{/CC}} Bolivian creeping mold. Building's been struggling with it since '51. It's toxic if you inhale its spores, and you've got it in your air ducts.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(scene.alarmCharismaValue_Medium){{/CC}} A very serious issue. I know how valuable your time is, so this repair job is top priority. I'll be in and out in the time it takes you to grab a soykaf.
The kind you won't live through unless you and yours get the hell out of here and let me do my job.
{{GM}}She visibly pales.{{/GM}}

Y-yes, $(l.sir)!
{{GM}}She stifles a gasp, and then glances nervously around the room.{{/GM}}

I heard about that on the trid!
{{GM}}Her voice rises.{{/GM}}

Everyone, this $(l.man) has just informed me that there's a maintenance emergency in our area. I need all of you to drop what you're doing and leave so $(l.he) can make $(l.hisher) repairs.
{{GM}}She straightens up and immediately takes on an air of authority.{{/GM}}

Our time *is* valuable, as befits a team of our importance. I appreciate the respect and high priority that we've been given. We'll return shortly, so you'd best be finished by the time we're back.
Oh, and don't leave a mess.
No problem. I'll have it fixed in a flash.
I'll mess up your face if you keep givin' me that attitude...
See that you do.
Your best, hopefully. Be back soon.
I'm sorry, I didn't get that. What did you say?
Uh... I said I'm your ace. You have my gratitude.
Nothing.
Yes, yes. Now get to work.
Oh. Well, don't just stand there. Get to work.
{{GM}}Her upper lip curls in anger.{{/GM}}

You have no right to traipse in here and start making unfounded demands of me and my workers. Any and all repairs you need to make must be made after we've left at the end of the business day. If you have a problem with this, take it up with security.
What is it? We're very busy here.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Corporate{{/CC}} Prior to arriving for my meeting for today, I was informed that an impromptu fire drill is going to be performed around this time. It'd reflect well on your team if you left now. But if you wait and get caught up in the mess, you and your team might lose face.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(scene.alarmCharismaValue_Hard){{/CC}} People are starting to clear out of this floor. I asked around and heard that Knight Errant's doing a security audit. It sounds pretty serious, so I thought I'd let you know since you and your team are still here.
You guys heading home anytime soon?
{{GM}}Without a word to you, she raises her voice and addresses the office.{{/GM}}

Everyone, out! A fire drill's about to hit, and I want us in our safety station before the other departments even hear the alarm. Let's move it!
{{GM}}She hesitates. Looks at her workers, then back at you.{{/GM}}

Yes... Yes, I appreciate you telling us. It won't do to have our team be the last ones leaving the vicinity. We have a reputation to uphold.

All right, everyone. No time to pack up! We need to go.
{{GM}}She narrows her eyes.{{/GM}}

No. Why?
Looking for a nice place to sit until my meeting starts.
This is an office workspace, not a lounge. And, like I said before, we're hard at work with little time to spare. Please wait elsewhere.
{{GM}}The woman glances at you from over her clipboard.{{/GM}}

I've no time to take outside inquiries right now. Please come back another time.
Paydata: Prototype Deck Info
Is0bel was able to glean and take down some key design features of a bleeding edge cyberdeck. This information could be very valuable to a number of parties out on the Shadowland.
The man standing at the Aztechnology demo station looks strangely out of place at a decker convention. He isn't carrying a cyberdeck, and you can't see any sign of cyberware on his person - not even a datajack.

He looks up from the kiosk, blinking.
Did you want to use this? Am I in your way?

{{GM}}He sounds preoccupied. He shifts his body, and his movements are unnaturally smooth and graceful.

As he moves, you can see that the kiosk's screen is flickering. Apparently, the demo software has glitched out.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Spellcasting or Conjuring{{/CC}} {{GM}}Use Astral Perception to read the man's aura.{{/GM}}
No, that's all right. It looks broken anyway.
I'm just passing by, man. Didn't mean to bother you.
Your third eye slides open, and the world around you goes gray. The flashing screens and blinking lights of the DeckCon show floor fade to nothing.

The aura of the man in front of you crackles like a bonfire. He's magically active - very much so. His entire body scintillates with barely contained magic.
{{GM}}As your third eye flutters shut, color and vibrance return to the world. The man in front of you clears his throat.{{/GM}}

So, uh... if you're not here for the kiosk, was there something else that you needed?
{{GM}}He glances down at the screen.{{/GM}}

Oh. Yeah. I guess that it's not supposed to do that.

I wasn't really paying attention.
{{GM}}He clears his throat.{{/GM}}

So, uh... if you're not here for the kiosk, was there something else that you needed...?
{{GM}}Examine his visitor badge.{{/GM}}
You aren't a decker. You're an adept.
You aren't a decker, are you?
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}} I've gotta run. Take care.
The badge hanging from his lanyard is a cheap day pass, only good until the show floor closes tonight. The name field says "GAMEGE" in block letters.
{{GM}}His demeanor changes. Goes from tired to suspicious.{{/GM}}

Why do you say that?
Because I read your aura.
Are you kidding? With your catlike reflexes, what else could you be?
Then you're as out of place here as I am.

Look. I'm here to relax and get off the streets. They've got free clams and free wine, and everybody but you seems happy to keep to themselves. So just leave me in peace, okay?
{{CC}}Etiquette: Shadowrunner{{/CC}} Look. I think that you're here on a job. I am, too. Just wanna make sure that we don't step on each other's toes.
You're here for the clams? Really?
Hey, whatever you say.
{{GM}}His eyes flit to the far door again. Slowly, they shift back to you.{{/GM}}

...My target's name is Ez3kiel. Extraction job. Should be quick and quiet.

You?
Rhombus. Intimidation gig. Doesn't sound like we have any overlap.
I'm here for someone else. We should be good.
{{GM}}He nods thoughtfully.{{/GM}}

No. Doesn't sound that way. Good looking out.

Now, if you wouldn't mind, I really need to keep my eyes on that door. When he comes waltzing through, I need to be there with a plate of clams and a chloroformed rag.
Yeah, man, do your thing. Best of luck.
Chloroform, huh? Pulling out the old classics?
Why the clams?
Yeah. You, too.
If it ain't broke...

{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

Anyway. Best of luck on your run.
{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

Because they're free. And I like clams.

Anyway. Best of luck on your run.
That's a relief. The last thing I need is another team coming in and complicating things.

Now, if you wouldn't mind, I really need to keep my eyes on that door. When he comes waltzing through, I need to be there with a plate of clams and a chloroformed rag.
{{GM}}He tenses up, clearly irritated.{{/GM}}

Yes. I love clams. Clams, mussels, oysters... if it's a bivalve, I wanna eat it. Butter and lemon are my best friends, and right at this moment, I'd kill a man for wine in a plastic cup.

Is that okay with you?
Hey, calm down. It was just a question... I didn't mean anything by it.
Hey, man. Knock yourself out.
Not really.
Sorry. I'm just... a little tense right now.

Honestly, you'd probably have more fun talking with someone else.
*Thank* you.

{{GM}}He waves you away.{{/GM}}

Now please, go do your thing and let me enjoy the show in peace.
Go away, then.

{{GM}}He waves you away.{{/GM}}

Find someone else to bother. Enjoy the show.
Thank you.
{{GM}}He sighs.{{/GM}}

Look. I'm here to relax and get off the streets. They've got free clams and free wine, and everybody but you seems happy to keep to themselves. So just leave me in peace, okay?
Because you're at a software demo kiosk, and you didn't notice that it was glitching out on you.
Because I don't see any chrome on you... or a cyberdeck, for that matter.
{{GM}}He sighs.{{/GM}}

Yeah... I guess that was kind of a giveaway, wasn't it?

You're right, I'm not a decker. But I'm enjoying the show, so if you wouldn't mind...
If you're not into all of this decker stuff, what is there here to enjoy?
No, not at all. Sorry to bother you.
No worries. Enjoy the show.

{{GM}}He turns back to the kiosk, his eyes fixed on the far door.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}He sighs.{{/GM}}

Yeah... I guess that's probably kind of a giveaway, isn't it?

You're right, I'm not a decker. But I'm enjoying the show, so if you wouldn't mind...
Later, then. Enjoy the show.

{{GM}}He turns back to the kiosk, his eyes fixed on the far door.{{/GM}}
Oh... okay. That's fine.

{{GM}}He turns back to the kiosk, his eyes blank.{{/GM}}

Enjoy the show.
Oh, it's you again.

Can I, uh... can I help you somehow?
This panel's door is hanging open, the wires inside sparking occasionally. It looks like someone was recently in the process of working on the cabling but was called away. This might provide useful access to ship systems.
Searching through the wires and cables, it looks like someone was in the process of upgrading the internal camera system for the Nalchi. They've left the wires exposed - anyone with basic electronics knowledge could patch their commlink into the feed.
{{GM}}Have Is0bel hack the cameras.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Intelligence: $(story.global_skillcheck_easy){{/CC}} {{GM}}Re-wire the camera feeds.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Have Racter re-wire the cameras.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Is0bel hooks her cyberdeck up to the diagnostic port, and a few moments later several lights flash green.{{/GM}}

We're all set. They must have bought this setup from some cut-rate junk dealer in the Golden Mile. What a piece of junk...
You deftly re-wire the panel's electronics, and shortly thereafter your commlinks begin recieving the ship's camera feeds.
{{GM}}Racter rapidly begins re-wiring the electronics panel, swapping plugs and wires across several boards. After a moment, the panel emits a soft beep.{{/GM}}

There we are. You should be receiving the camera feeds on your commlink now.
Poison Darts
Ares made stealth suit.
Secure Ninja Clothing
Adept ninja outfit that grants the wearer +1 Dodge.
Summons a Force 3 Devil Rat spirit. The fetish is consumed when used.
Pommel Strike
Does an additional 1 AP DMG. Ignores the weapon's HP damage. -10% to hit.
Cause AP damage to targets.
Eos
A rigger, equally talented with drones and submachine guns.
Mercenary: Drone Rigger
Headshot
Single Target. One bullet. -10% to hit. Increases chance for critical DMG.
Explosive Detonator
A mechanical key with accompanying detonator for standard military grade explosive charges.
Poisoned Ghoul Fist
A poison fist that does DMG and then causes -2 HP for 1 RND.
Controlbox
Summons a Force 4 Devil Rat spirit. The fetish is consumed when used.
Ancient Talisman
An ancient talisman made of tarnished bronze.
The man standing before you looks cleaner than most of the other squatters on the Sinking Ship. There are no streaks of grease on his cheeks, and his clothes look freshly laundered.

He leers at you as you approach.
Well. What have we here? Strangers on our humble raft, exploring her leaking bowels?

{{GM}}The man grins, revealing the cavernous gap in his teeth. He hefts a snifter brimming with cognac in salute.{{/GM}}

Welcome to the Sinking Ship, strangers. Now tell me what you want.
We're looking for a friend of ours. An ork, ninteen years old. Goes by the name of Gobbet.
We're taking the Sinking Ship back from the Rat King. Will you help us?
What do you do on the raft?
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}} We'll leave you to your business.
You may address me as Mercurio.

{{GM}}He bows slightly, the cognac sloshing in his glass.{{/GM}}

At your service.
Oh? And she ran away from you, did she?

{{GM}}He grins.{{/GM}}

Ran all the way here, to our little palace on the water?
Have you seen her, or haven't you?
Insistent little thing, aren't you?

{{GM}}He puts his lips to the crystal of his snifter and slurps up a mouthful of liquor.{{/GM}}

No. I haven't seen your runaway friend. But if I do run into her, I'll tell her that you're looking.
{{GM}}He shakes his head sadly.{{/GM}}

No. I'm afraid not.

I'm a lover, not a fighter.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Socialite{{/CC}} I can see that you're a man who enjoys the finer things in life. You'll never have them as long as the Rat King is in control.
{{CC}}Strength: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Medium){{/CC}} If you don't get off your scrawny ass and fight, I'll snap you in half like a twig. How does that sound?
{{CC}}¥500{{/CC}} Y'know, five hundred nuyen could buy you a lot of brandy...
This is your way out of here. Don't you see that?
{{GM}}He pauses, considering.{{/GM}}

You raise a valid point. Things *have* been going to hell recently.

It's getting to the point where it's almost impossible to get my hands on a decent bottle of brandy. Even the Chilean stuff is hard to find.
So are you going to fight for us, or not?
{{GM}}He takes another sip of cognac and sighs. A bead of amber fluid hangs precariously on his lip.{{/GM}}

Yes, my dear, I think that I will. After all, what is the purpose of a life without luxury?

When you make your move, I will do what I can to assist you.
{{GM}}He stares at you, and his smile vanishes.{{/GM}}

Fair. It sounds fair. Please don't hurt me.
That was satisfying.

{{GM}}She stares the local down.{{/GM}}

When the fighting starts, you take our side. Got it?
Yes. Yes, of course.

You can count on me.
Yes. Yes it could.

{{GM}}He snatches the credstick out of your hand.{{/GM}}

Very well. when the fighting starts, I will do what I can.
Of course I do. I'm not a fool.

But fighting the Rat King would also be a wonderful way for me to get myself killed, and I'm not keen to have that happen.
Listen, if we can't rally enough support to make this mutiny happen, we're sinking the raft.
If you're too much of a coward to fight for your home, I don't need you.
Ah.

I suppose that I don't have much choice, then. Count me in.
Good. I'm glad that we've got that covered.

{{GM}}He waves you away.{{/GM}}

Now bugger off.
A bit of this, a bit of that. I'm an artist... or rather, I used to be. An artist, and a socialite, and a man about town.

{{GM}}He spreads his hands.{{/GM}}

By "town," I mean "raft," of course.
Now, I mostly find myself shut away here, on the Sinking Ship's upper deck. I've been festering away here for months, desperately clinging to the finer things in life.

{{GM}}He sniffs.{{/GM}}

Quite the tale of woe, really.
That's it? You just loiter around and socialize?
So what you're saying is that you're basically useless.
A fine and noble profession.

{{GM}}He takes another sip, swilling the brandy in his mouth.{{/GM}}

But you're a street level operative, no? Blue-collar work. I wouldn't expect you to understand.
{{GM}}He pauses for a moment, considering.{{/GM}}

Speaking of blue collar work, I have something here that might interest you. Would you like to see it?
That depends on what it is.
{{GM}}He turns to a nearby table and lifts a battered lozenge of black plastic. He holds it out to you.{{/GM}}

It's just a datapad... nothing sinister. This belonged to a maintenance tech that I once knew.

I have no idea what happened to her, but she hasn't been seen in weeks.
And you're giving this to us? Why?
I'll look after it. Thank you.
To earn your favor. You've come to the Sinking Ship rather well-armed, after all.

{{GM}}He shoots a glance at Is0bel's rifle and raises an eyebrow.{{/GM}}

I'd rather ingratiate myself to you now, before the bullets start flying.
{{GM}}Take the datapad.{{/GM}} We'll take it. Thank you.
Anytime. I wasn't using the thing anyway... the schematics on that device are all quite arcane to me, I'm afraid.
Now, if that will be quite all...

{{GM}}He glances at the door.{{/GM}}
I wouldn't expect you to understand. You're a street level operative, no?

Blue-collar work. The termite to my social butterfly. We're different creatures, you and I.
You're back.

{{GM}}He smiles down at Is0bel, saluting with his glass.{{/GM}}

Tell me why.
Breath of Life
The power of the spirit heals all allies within 3 tiles of their most recent wound.
Tsang VP's Core Access Chip
A one of a kind chip that only works the Tsang VP's Core System access terminal.
A small PDA sits on the table, the dull glow of the screen illuminating the surface around it. It does not appear to be locked.
{{GM}}Check recent email.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Leave the PDA alone.{{/GM}}
>> Nadir O.S. 3.11 Email Client

Please select a file.
{{GM}}> New location in garage.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}> Re: Where the heck is Kang?{{/GM}}
{{GM}}> Elder Murders{{/GM}}
Wilson - we've got the go-ahead from the Whampoan Elders to move into the parking garage. Whatever fight happened there has really spooked the locals, and they're superstitious about moving back into a place that could be filled with angry ghosts. It's a bunch of bull, but whatever - the bottom line is, we have a new place to set up shop.

Their only requests are that we pay a percentage of our sales back to them, and we keep anyone nosy out of our turf. Works for me.
I don't know where Kang is. Last I heard from him, he was checking out the storm drains, looking for a place to use as a drop so we wouldn't have to stash all the chips up here in the garage. When he came back up, he said something about seeing a monster down there. He described it as man-sized, but covered in gore and speaking some kind of 'monster language'.
He was so spooked he dropped his key to the drains on his way out. Total idiot. So I told him to take a few days off.

If you're still looking for him, check his flat in San Po Kong. He's probably drunk off his ass or something.
Unfortunately, that means we don't have any more keys to the storm drains. I know that Porter Lam has some - maybe you could ask him.

There's also some elf woman named Rainbow Smite that's been down there, hunting paracritters. Maybe we could buy her key from her.
I don't know if any of you have heard about the way the Elders have been getting picked off one by one, but stay out of it. They've been nice enough to let us set up shop here, but their business isn't our business. If anyone asks you to look into it, tell them to talk to me.

I don't want to get mixed up in whatever politics are ripping those crazy tech-junkies apart.
The only good thing to come out of all of this is that we picked up Tong's BTL stash earlier tonight. Yuen saw somebody go into Tong's shop right before closing time, and when he came out, the door was unlocked. Tong was ripped apart. Maybe he was the killer, maybe he was just picking the place over like we did.

Either way, let me say it again for you boneheads: STAY. OUT. OF. IT.
This door is heavily reinforced and barricaded. It'd take a bulldozer to get it open.
There are deep gashes in the steel wall of the container. They look like they were made by a blade of some kind... there's no way that rat claws could do this.
These scratches look like they were made by claws, but they're much bigger than anything that a devil rat could make.
The holes in this wall were caused by large-caliber bullets... much bigger than you'd need for something the size of a devil rat.
This doesn't look like the blood of a devil rat. The spread pattern tells you that whoever it belonged to was beaten with a blunt object.
NOTICE: Due to recent weather issues, only 3 people are allowed on the top deck at a time. Report violations of this policy.
Some tags, they seem relatively fresh. They haven't been here long.
NOTICE: All lower decks are OFF LIMITS until further notice. - Maintenance
Monsoon
THE SINKING SHIP
Hung Hom Bay. Captain Jomo's converted speedboat chops through the rough water like a cleaver through chicken bones, launching you skyward with every wave that it hits. Your destination: The Sinking Ship, Gobbet's former home.

The ork pirate laughs and opens the throttle. Wind and rain lash your face as the floating amalgamation of shipping containers grows larger. You can see that it's stacked at least three containers deep, an inelegant brick of corrugated weathering steel. An assortment of pontoons, buoys, and other floatation devices have been lashed to the base of the raft to prevent it from tipping.

You don't know what's happening here, or why Gobbet felt the need to go face it alone... but one way or another, you're about to find out.
Player 0
Player 1
Devil Rat
$(scene.Global_Name_CompelledLocal1)
$(scene.Global_Name_CompelledLocal2)
$(scene.Global_Name_Local5)
$(scene.Global_Name_CadmusSupporter1)
$(scene.Global_Name_Cadmus)
$(scene.Global_Name_Local2)
$(scene.Global_Name_LocalFriend)
A devotee of Rat. Specializes in spirit control, barriers, and area of effect damage spells.
Shaman
Ship Inhabitant
$(scene.Global_Name_Local1)
$(scene.Global_Name_Local3)
The Rat King
Demon Rat
Investigate the Disturbance on Sinking Ship
Find Gobbet
Get Below Deck
Find Cadmus
Find Malvina
Organize a Mutiny
Scuttle the Sinking Ship
Stop the Rat King
Reach the Bottom Deck
Find & Rearm Final Scuttling Charges
Use the Alarm to Warn Cadmus
Divert Power to the Scuttling Charges
Escape the Sinking Ship!
Keep Your Crew Alive.
Single Target. One bullet. Increases accuracy by 15%.
Basic Medkit
The most basic medkit that heals you or any team member. Consumed when used. Can be used outside of combat.
Disarm
On a critical hit, you force your opponent to drop their weapon. There is a -15% to hit.
Does an additional -3 HP. Ignores the weapon's AP damage. -15% to hit.
Looks like this terminal has an unguarded jackpoint.
Territoriality
Augment Skill:
Ranged Combat
Gobbet spends some more time at the firing range, increasing her Ranged Combat skill and and SMG specialization by 1.
Augment Spell:
Poison Fog
Gobbet's Poison Fog is upgraded to Acidic Fog, doing AP DMG to those affected as well as HP DMG.
Wuxing Lined Coat
Wuxing Corp developed this coat for their executive's magical bodyguards. Rigid plates are concealed between layers of ballistic cloth inside.
Augment Spell: Haste
Gobbet formulates a new version of the Haste spell that harnesses the latent wild magic of Hong Kong. Channeled Haste increases a friendly target's AP by 1 for 4 RNDS. When cast, Gobbet's accuracy is increased by 15% for 4 RNDs. Shares a cooldown with other Haste spells.
SIN-less rags
Gain Rat Totem:
Destroy Spirit
Gobbet's Rat Totem invocation does 99 DMG to any hostile Spirit. This spell can only be used on Spirits.
Aztechnology Person
Gain Spell:
Plague Barrier
Gobbet gains a conjuring spell which sets 4 Heavy Cover barriers that last 3 RNDS. Anyone that enters takes -14 HP and -1 AP DMG.
This woman sports brilliantly-hued hair that shifts colors, scintillating with every passing moment. She is powerfully built - a natural athlete, or someone who works out a great deal. Notably, a large shotgun rests on an arcade cabinet next to her.

She affords you a short glance as you approach. When she speaks, you note a peculiarly lyrical accent to her voice.
Somethin' I can help you with there, friend?

Yer throwin' off me game, and I'm tryin' to beat my best score!
That's... some interesting hair you have.
Tank War Europa? I haven't seen one of those cabinets in years.
Well, sure isn't it the reason they call me 'Rainbow'. Rainbow Smite.

{{GM}}She kicks one foot toward the shotgun laying against the cabinet.{{/GM}}

That shooter's why there's also a 'Smite.'
{{GM}}The woman's mouth twists up into a wry grin.{{/GM}}

Aye, me neither. Managed to find this one near by accident. But I heard the music and thought 'Hold on there, Rainbow... You know that tune.'
{{GM}}After a few moments, Rainbow's game is suddenly over - her tank obliterated by a barrage of air-to-ground missiles. She hisses her breath in through clenched teeth.{{/GM}}

Piss on your ma! A right robbery, that was.
Right, then.

{{GM}}Rainbow shakes her head again, and turns to face you fully.{{/GM}}

You don't seem like them Whampoans. They're all a might touched, yeah? Maybe you are too, but you don't advertise it like they do. What's your story?
I'm looking into the murders that have been happening.
Just here on a job, that's all.
Ahh, that's some nasty work. Bodies hacked up, chunks bitten out of them...

Make sure you're loaded for something big and ugly, that's for certain.
Ahh, right... The murders and whatnot, I expect.

Best of luck with that. Seems like a nasty business - and one that I didn't care to get involved with.
Ey, good to see you again. Something else I can help you with?
Where are you from? I can't place the accent.
What're you doing in Whampoa Garden?
Do you have a key to the storm drains?
I found something pretty strange down in the sewers. Can I ask your thoughts on it?
See you later, Rainbow.
Born and raised in Dublin, down on the banks of the Liffey. Spent most of me early life there, workin' security on 'sacred spaces'. You know - historical sites, or undeveloped land.

The green movement was big in those days. It was a bit like being a park ranger, but sure didn't it beat some dead-end desk job.
Spent a lot of time around County Dublin and Wicklow. I always loved animals, and I found out bein' a ranger put me in close with 'em. It was a good time, yeah?

Making sure the budding new species like the bogies and centaurs didn't upset the ecology of Wicklow National Park much. Also kept the nastier bits like the each-uisge from runnin' amok across populated areas.
What's that? An 'eat whiskey'?
An each-uisge? Isn't that a demon horse?
Nae. Each-uisge - uisge's just the word fer water, which is how whiskey got it's name.

It's a cannibal horse, basically. Ifn' you've never heard of an each-uisge, be glad - it drags you into bogs to kill you. Sometimes people call 'em kelpies, on account of the water plants they pop out of.
Anyway, as I was sayin'...

Problem was, I started to develop this wee knack... Just a small thing. I keep magic from workin' when I'm around. Spells don't go, spirits fall apart, and the paracritters get real feisty, yeah?
Ta make things worse, this was around the time Liam O'Connor threw his coup, and formed Tir Na Nog.

With all his fancy talk about Elves and ancient magic, 'twas a bit scandalous to have a woman guarding 'ancient sites' that wasn't just mundane, but also killed magic around her. So I got fired.
You're older than Tir Na Nog?
Bang on! And I don't look a day over twenty five, do I?

{{GM}}Rainbow flexes one arm, grinning widely.{{/GM}}

Aye. I'm Irish, not one of them Noggins. Pack of punters, the lot of 'em. Always going on about their ancestral lands and the glory of the past and all that bullshite.
I saw them kick dozens old Irish families off their land just because their ears weren't pointy enough, or they didn't meet some stupid arbitrary criteria of old nobility.

It was that kind of thing that brought back the IRA, just like in the bad old days of the Troubles.
The skivers in the new Tir didn't pay for the land they took - they just had a pack of bullies with guns.

{{GM}}Rainbow scrunches her face up into a disgusted sneer, and mock spits at the ground.{{/GM}}

I've always been sympathetic to the little guy in a fight. They offered to pay for my help, so I said yes, simple as that.
So you became a terrorist?
Feh, don't be so dramatic! They fixed me up with a cyber-stitcher and gave me a lot of the kit I've got in me now, in exchange for going overseas to work for them.

Smuggling, runnin' guns, makin' contacts in Europe. Same kinda shite all revolutionary groups do.
Seein' as how me own fam got kicked outta their house, I was glad to do it.

I still do work for 'em these days, but there's a lot less of it. Lady Deigh cracked down on dissidents but good.
Aye. That's right - they're cannibal horses, basically. Nasty buggers that drag people into bogs and drown you.

Sometimes people call 'em kelpies, on account of the water plants they pop out of.
Me? I'm a bit of a big game hunter these days. I get into strange places, look for some kind of paracritter I've not seen before... And then I put a bullet in it.

Only the nasty ones, though - no point in huntin' a Talis Cat or such. It's only things like Gargoyles, Barghests, and whatnot. All the work I did with 'em in my youth does a good job of keepin' me alive.
I was out in Jakarta last year, hunting one of them Indonesia vampires... You ever heard of 'em? Call 'em pennanggalans. Their heads and guts come out of the body cavity, and they fly around like a giant messy pile of pasta.

{{GM}}Rainbow bares her teeth and pantomimes floating around{{/GM}}

Took me a solid two months to track her down, but I did.
Once the job was done, I asked myself: "Ok, Rainbow... where's the best place in East Asia to find some action?" So Hong Kong it was.

All the qi-whatsits here mean a bigger concentration of odd critters than you'd usually find in a city.
Been spending a lot of time down in the storm drains these days. I heard rumors of a 'rat king' down there - where a mess of devil rats get all tied together into some kind of big, awful, rat-beast. Haven't tracked it down yet... But I figure it's only a matter of time, yeah?

{{GM}}She pats the barrel of her shotgun affectionately.{{/GM}}
Of course I do. How else would I get down to look for strange creepy-crawlies, ey? Why d'you ask?
Can I borrow it? I want to investigate something down there.
Aye, sure. Watch your step down there, though... The drains are a might bigger than people'd normally expect.

{{GM}}Rainbow tosses you the key.{{/GM}}

Best of luck!
Sure. What'd you find?
A pile of severed limbs stacked like firewood.
{{GM}}Rainbow doesn't answer immediately. Instead, she stares at you like you're some kind of alien.{{/GM}}

Oooookay. That's not the answer I expected. What do you mean, stacked like firewood? Can you describe the pile in more detail?
It looked like somebody had made an organized pile of body parts - a little pyramid that wouldn't fall over.
There's no beastie I know of that'd do a thing like that. Some animals store food for later, but they don't stack them like that. I'd suggest whatever did that wasn't an animal, but a person - albeit a very disturbed one.

Maybe you're lookin' at some kind of vampire or infected - a wendigo, maybe? But they generally have a cult of cannibal followers.
That's organized behavior. That means the culprit is precise and careful. Also, given that it wasn't stored in the... lair, I guess... would mean the it doesn't want to risk the eventual smell drawing people toward where it sleeps.

That's rather good, in terms of foresight, don't you think? Them that're killers are right crafty lot, if they've a mind better than that of a beast.
Shuriken
A well-crafted throwing star with a carbon steel edge. May do additional AP DMG.
Tigath fidgets nervously as you approach him. His entire body is tense, and his eyes flick rapidly around the market, as if searching for unseen threats.

As he notices you, he relaxes somewhat - but only a small amount.
Oh, thank god you're here... I'm at my wit's end. I could swear that I'm being watched everywhere I go.

{{GM}}He continues to glance nervously around.{{/GM}}

I don't like being out here. It's too exposed.
{{GM}}In the distance, a police siren wails. Tigath's hand dives under his jacket, but as the wailing recedes, he relaxes again.{{/GM}}

Listen, did you bring the stuff? The faster I can get that stuff and leave Hong Kong, the safer I'll be.
{{GM}}Wu sweeps his goggles over the elf, their dull glow pulsing in the early morning darkness.{{/GM}}

Calm your ass down, man. That piece clears holster, I start to get nervous, too. Let's not have any accidents.
{{GM}}Tigath stops fidgeting, takes a breath, and nods.{{/GM}}

Okay, okay. I'm calm.

Can we just get this over with?
{{GM}}Gaichu cackles and lays a hand on the hilt of his katana.{{/GM}}

You stink of fear, little man. Calm yourself. If a threat arrives, we will deal with it for you.
{{GM}}Racter curls his lips up in disgust.{{/GM}}

Sir. Keep your hands in the open. Shaking as badly as you are, I think you'd only embarrass yourself if you tried to shoot something. Leave violence to the professionals.
{{GM}}Is0bel rolls her eyes at the elf's antics.{{/GM}}

Calm down. We don't have time for a jumpy guy shooting at anything that moves.
{{GM}}Gobbet laughs, holding her hands up to her face. Her rats crawl out from her sleeves, one sitting on each palm.{{/GM}}

Look here, babies. It's a man who's going to get himself shot if he pulls that gun, because he's got no idea how to use it.
You've got bigger problems. Somebody's on to you.
That's not my problem. Payment is.
What about your family?
{{GM}}Tigath regards you incredulously.{{/GM}}

What do you mean, somebody's after me? I told you that already! It's the Seoulpas!
They called me on the Nalchi, right after I called you. They knew we'd talked.
I think it's time you told me what's really going on.
Like, they were listening in on the conversation?! Holy shit, holy shit...

{{GM}}Tigath goes white and shifts back and forth on his feet, as if he's about to break and run.{{/GM}}

What am I going to do?!
Get a grip. Panic won't help you.
Calm down, Tigath. We'll get you through this.
Don't worry about it, I took care of them.
You're right... I can be calm. Well, shit, what do we do?
{{GM}}Is0bel rolls her eyes.{{/GM}}

You get the hell out of Hong Kong after we get paid. Idiot.
I'd suggest paying us and getting out of Hong Kong, actually.

{{GM}}Racter's annoyance is palpable as he jabs instructions into his bracer.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Gobbet yawns, shaking her head.{{/GM}}

You hide, dumbass. What the hell do you think?
{{GM}}Wu snorts and shakes his head in disbelief.{{/GM}}

You hide, that's what you do. We make the trade and you get the hell out of Hong Kong.
You hide. Hide until you can use the data and samples to your advantage.

This is not a complicated proposition.
We make the trade, and you go into hiding.
{{GM}}The elf runs a shaking hand through his hair and nods.{{/GM}}

Yeah... Yeah, that makes sense. Okay.

You ready to make the trade?
{{GM}}Before you can answer, a shout rings out.{{/GM}}

Keep your hands where I can see them, you assholes!
{{GM}}Tigath eyes you uneasily. He pulls at one fingernail as his eyes dart over the darkened market behind you.{{/GM}}

Like... For good? They're dead?
There's enough lead in them to poison a small town.
They won't be bothering you again.
{{GM}}Tigath closes his eyes and lets out a long, shuddering breath. He stands silently for a long moment, with his eyes closed. When he finally opens them again, his expression shifts from one of fear to that of cold professionalism.{{/GM}}

Good. That shifts the balance of power considerably.
{{GM}}Before you can act, he puts one hand to his ear and utters a single sentence.{{/GM}}

Move in and secure the area.

{{GM}}There is a sudden sound of running - boots on concrete. In the split second you glance over Tigath's shoulder, he's in motion.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Tigath fidgets a nervously, regarding you with suspicion.{{/GM}}

What do you mean by that?
It means, jackass, that we know the score.

You're no corp wage slave. You're a goddamn Tir spy.
It means we know you're from Tir Tairngire, you son of a bitch.

And we know you've been lying to us the whole time.
It means, elf, that your lies have caught up with you. We know you are a spy for Tir Tairngire.

We also know you have been lying to us deliberately.
It means you're a liar and a spy. We know you're from Tir Tairngire.

Come clean. Tell us what's really going on.
Sir, we know you're a spy. We know you're from Tir Tairngire. And we know you've been lying to us.

Tell us the whole story.
I mean you're not with Eastern Tiger at all. You're a spy for Tir Tairngire.
What?! What makes you think that?
We saw camera footage of you meeting with your mercenaries, earlier tonight.
{{GM}}Tigath grits his teeth. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and opens them again.{{/GM}}

Right. I know I'm not paying you to care, but if you give me the data and tissue samples, you can get all that money you care so much about.
That's not the only problem. Somebody's tailing you.
{{GM}}Tigath waves a hand in front of his face impatiently.{{/GM}}

Yes, yes! Of course I've got to work on that, too. But what matters right now is me getting out of Hong Kong safely.
Somebody's watching you. They know what you're up to.
You have bigger problems. Your commlink's been hacked.
I got a call from the Seoulpas that are tailing you.
{{GM}}Tigath swears under his breath, wiping a hand over his damp forehead.{{/GM}}

Shit, what!? That must be how the Seoulpas have been staying on me the whole time.
You should have been more careful.
Right, obviously.

{{GM}}The elf gestures at you impatiently.{{/GM}}

Well, hand over the data and samples, and you can get paid. Then we can all go home safely.
Not until you tell me what's really going on.
{{GM}}Racter fixes Tigath with a suspicious glare.{{/GM}}

Not just yet. None of this makes logical sense, you realize. What about your family? Publishing the data?

Your concerns have changed to a remarkable degree.
{{GM}}Is0bel narrows her eyes at Tigath's urgency.{{/GM}}

Not yet. Your story's full of holes. What about your family? If you have the data, nothing is stopping Eastern Tiger from killing you and taking it back.

I don't trust you.
Yeah... You know something? I don't trust you.

{{GM}}Gobbet watches the elf as he fidgets, shaking her head slowly.{{/GM}}

If you cared about your family, you'd want the data out of Eastern Tiger's hands. If they're on to you, they can just kill you can take it.
{{GM}}Gaichu wrinkles his nose, sniffing at the night air. He slowly shakes his head.{{/GM}}

I do not trust you, little man. If your goal is to survive, it is safer for us to keep the data until you are out of Hong Kong. If you have it, Eastern Tiger can kill you with ease, and retrieve it.
Uh uh. Not yet.

{{GM}}Wu grits his tusks against his upper lip in a contemptuous sneer.{{/GM}}

If you really cared about safety, you'd already be gone, and have us take the data somewhere else. We give it to you, Eastern Tiger only has to take out one target to get their way.
It means we know you're from Tir Tairngire, you son of a bitch.

And we know you've been trying to get this shit since Tacoma.
It means, elf, that your lies have caught up with you. We know you are a spy for Tir Tairngire.

We also know you have been after the Eastern Tiger data since Tacoma.
What?! A bunch of crazy psychopaths spin a story about me and you're gonna believe them?!
This Seoulpa Ring is local. You could have left Hong Kong and paid me remotely.
ETC has enough surveilance in Seoul to make sure your family will never get out. You'd know that if you worked for them.
If you wanted to get clear, you’d get the hell out of Hong Kong and have us send you the data and samples via secure courier.
Your story just doesn't add up, Tigath. You're lying to me.
{{GM}}The elf's expression abruptly changes. His fear washes away, abruptly replaced by cold professionalism. His fidgeting ceases almost instantaneously.{{/GM}}

I see. Well, now that the cat's out of the bag, I need to figure out what to do about this snarl.
Keep your hands where I can see them.
{{GM}}Gobbet has an evil glint in her eye as she leans toward Tigath.{{/GM}}

No sudden moves. I'm feeling awfully nervous. You move too quickly, accidents can happen.
{{GM}}Koschei whirrs menacingly, weapons focusing on Tigath.{{/GM}}

I would suggest not making any sudden moves. Koschei's threat analysis software is prone to striking first.
{{GM}}Gaichu runs his claws over the hilt of his katana.{{/GM}}

I cannot see you, elf, but I will know if you pull a weapon. Slow movements only, for your sake.
{{GM}}Wu lifts his rifle into a ready position.{{/GM}}

Slow movements only. Keep your hands where I can see them, or accidents might happen.
{{GM}}Is0bel watches Tigath closely, her rifle at the ready.{{/GM}}

No sudden movements. I'm awfully nervous. I wouldn't want this rifle to go off by mistake.
Don't be melodramatic. I'd rather avoid bloodshed, if it can be helped.

If you're amenable, the deal can proceed as planned.
You're going to answer some questions first.
I'm a professional. I'm still here to get paid.
You try and screw me, you're a dead man.
I suppose I can indulge you. You've worked out as rather good hires so far.
What's Tir Tairngire's interest Eastern Tiger?
Tell me about Omega Sequence #358 G.
What do you intend to do about the Seoulpas?
Frankly, nothing. Zero. Eastern Tiger just happened to be the company researching into things that it shouldn't be.

My orders are to terminate that research.
Research into longevity, telemeres, the Elven metagene. You've heard the rumors, I'm sure - immortal elves, hiding in positions of power for centuries, manipulating world events. Total rubbish, all of it.

The Council of Princes wants the research shut down. Not only is it unethical, it stokes the flames of anti-elven sentiment.
With every resurgent rumor that our people could live forever, we run the risk of another Night of Rage. No other government cares for Elves like Tir Tairngire, so we take it upon ourselves to destroy this kind of research where we can.

Surely, you understand, don't you? You've seen the resentment in the faces of other metatypes?
That's a pretty flimsy excuse.
I guess so. It's not pleasant.
Psh. I shouldn't have expected you to understand. You're a creature of lawlessness and chaos, not of order and good breeding.
No, it's not. That's why I need to get this data out of Hong Kong, and back to Portland. We can have it thoroughly debunked there.
Research into Elven metagenetics. Abhorrent stuff - deliberately mutating Elven genes in an effort to take the best qualities and imprint them onto other metatypes.

Ridiculously, they seemed to think they'd be able to unlock the secrets of immortality.
That seems crazy.
I don't see the problem, honestly.
Yes, rather. Plenty of advances into so-called "immortality" are already being made - gene therapy, Leonization, even magical treatments.

Eastern Tiger's method just happens to be cheaper - and more horrible.
Well, then you're absolutely as moral as I'd expect a shadowrunner to be.

Still, I can't be a picky man while in foreign lands.
I don't intend to do anything about them. I intend to leave this horrible little island.

The question is: what do YOU intend to do about them? You live here, after all.
Don't worry about the Seoulpas. They're dead.
Well. That saves time. I should thank you, although I'm certain my security forces could have handled them.

What do you intend to do now, hmm? I have your money, and you have the data and samples.
I think you're a liar, and I don't trust you.
I intend to give you what you want and get paid.
Ahh. That's unfortunate.
An excellent choice. Unfortunately, I won't be able to pay you the full amount I'd initially promised.

Operational costs have reduced my budget for your services. You understand, I'm sure.
I don't think so. The full amount, or I air you out here and now.
Whatever. I just want to be done with this.
A wise decision.

{{GM}}You make the exchange. Better to be done with this now.{{/GM}}
Well, that's good. I'd hate to think you'd suddenly developed sour grapes over a little white lie.

What do you intend to do about the Seoulpas?
{{GM}}Before you can answer, a shout rings out.{{/GM}}

Yeah... What are you gonna do about me?
An excellent choice. Unfortunately, I won't be able to pay you the full amount I'd initially promised.

Operational costs have reduced my budget for your services to only XXX nuyen. You understand, I'm sure.
A wise decision.

{{GM}}You hand the data and samples to Tigath, who passes back a certified credstick.{{/GM}}

Farewell, $(l.name). And good luck.
Please. Your posturing, while admirable, is unnecessary. I have my own security forces on call, and they'll be more than enough to handle you.
Please. Your posturing, while admirable, is unnecessary. I have my own security forces on call, and they'll be more than enough to handle you.

The real question is what you intend to do about the Seoulpas.
{{GM}}Tigath's eyes bulge in shock.{{/GM}}

What?!

How did they know to call you?
Your commlink's been hacked. They've been tracking your movements.
Not so fast. I've got some questions that need answering.
{{GM}}Signal Hwang{{/GM}} I don't think I'll be handing anything over just yet.
{{GM}}Tigath's face snaps back as if he's been slapped.{{/GM}}

My life is on the line, and you want to ask me questions? Do you have any idea how stupid that sounds?
Don't got much choice, do you?

{{GM}}Gobbet pulls a handful of peanuts out of her pocket, feeding one to each of her rats before popping the rest in her mouth.{{/GM}}

You want the data and samples. We want some answers. The glory of the free market, neh?
You have your concerns. We have ours, too.

{{GM}}Racter consults his bracer momentarily, not deigning to look up at Tigath as he speaks.{{/GM}}

We need to protect ourselves from possible reprisals, you see.
You don't have a choice.

{{GM}}Is0bel squares herself, planting a fist on one hip.{{/GM}}

If ETC has a Seoulpa Ring tracking you, we need to know what we might be facing after you're gone.
{{GM}}Gaichu expels a low laugh across bared teeth.{{/GM}}

You say this as if you are the one in control here. You are not. We are simply covering our own security, I assure you.
This isn't negotiable. You've got thugs after you, and by extension, so do we.

{{GM}}Wu cocks his head, curling his lip up on one side of his mouth.{{/GM}}

We need to make sure we're in the clear.
Fine, fine! Whatever.

{{GM}}The elf's sour expression is annoyance writ large.{{/GM}}

Ask whatever the hell it is you need to know. I just want to get this over with.
What's this change of plans going to mean for your family?
How do you think Eastern Tiger found out what you were up to?
You didn't seem too at risk in the video I found.
{{GM}}Signal Hwang{{/GM}} I've heard all I need to.
{{GM}}The elf runs a hand through his hair, expelling a heavy sigh.{{/GM}}

I don't know. But if they've got criminals hunting me, they'll obviously have my family under guard as well.
{{GM}}Is0bel's expression is impassive, but her eyes search Tigath's face like a hawk hunting for prey.{{/GM}}

They haven't contacted you? No threats or demands?
Has Eastern Tiger offered a deal? Made any threats?

Have they contacted you in any way?
You mean they haven't contacted you yet?

{{GM}}Wu cocks his head, gauging Tigath carefully.{{/GM}}

That's strange. They should be issuing demands or making threats.
{{GM}}Gobbet tosses another handful of peanuts down her gullet.{{/GM}}

That's funny. I mean, not ha-ha funny, but...

They should be making threats or issuing demands to you, if they know.
{{GM}}Racter utters a soft and thoughtful hum, cocking his head.{{/GM}}

They should have contacted you by now. Making threats or issuing demands.

That's standard corporate procedure.
Shouldn't they be making threats or issuing demands?
Well, aren't you the goddamn expert!

I don't know. Maybe they think it's easier to just eliminate me.
{{GM}}Tigath throws his hands up in the air.{{/GM}}

All I know is that I thought I could get away with exposing them.

I guess that was just a pipe dream.
{{GM}}Tigath's face twists into a rueful, pained grin.{{/GM}}

If I knew that, don't you think I'd have taken extra precautions when I landed in Hong Kong?
Maybe they've been spying on me for longer than I suspected. Or maybe they only suspect what I'm up to, but don't know for certain.
Maybe you should let us keep the data. That way if they find you, they won't get it back. It's a more powerful position.
It seems that a safer plan would be for us to keep the data.

That way, if they find you, you can still bargain.
Let us keep the data. If you are caught, you can still deal from a position of power.

After all, if you don't have what they want, they can still be exposed.
{{GM}}Is0bel snorts.{{/GM}}

Let us keep the data. We put it in a dead drop. If you don't contact our server every few days, it automatically gets exposed.

A dead man's switch.
Even an idiot like you should be able to see that's the safest plan.
Well, maybe we keep the data. Hide it somewhere.

If they catch you, they can't just kill you and hope the data disappears. Safer that way, yeah?
The safest plan is for us to keep the data. If they capture you, they're still at risk.

That way you can bargain with *some* kind of power.
{{GM}}Tigath's expression is pained.{{/GM}}

I *can't.* I can't take the chance, okay?

I want my family and my life back. If that means giving in, so be it.
{{GM}}Confusion splashes over the elf's face. He regards you cautiously.{{/GM}}

What?

What video are you talking about?
{{GM}}Signal Hwang{{/GM}} The traffic camera video. You and your mercenaries.
{{GM}}Like a bolt of lightning through a clear sky, your words flash through Tigath Wright.

In their wake, his nervousness is gone. All that remains is a coldly professional frown. His stance shifts, speaking promises of murder.{{/GM}}

I see. You're very resourceful. But what does that mean for our deal?
{{GM}}The elf's expression twists up in confusion.{{/GM}}

Wha... What do you mean?
{{GM}}From deeper in the marketplace, a shout shatters the night's stillness.{{/GM}}

It means I'm here to collect the goods, you lying little bastard!
{{GM}}From deeper in the marketplace, a shout rings out.{{/GM}}

It means I'm here to collect the goods, you lying little bastard!
A venom spray that does -18 HP DMG and does -2 HP DMG that last for 2 RNDS.
A crushing claw attack that does HP DMG.
Serrated Machete
Melee: A brutally crafted blade that causes bleeding damage, and strips 1 Armor on hit. May do AP DMG on a critical hit.
Bleeding: HP -4 per RND
Whoa, slow down there. This is a restricted area. I'll need to see your ID.
{{GM}}Show him your Tsang security passes.{{/GM}} Weren't you told? I'm a consultant.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Security{{/GM}} I'm here to evaluate your procedures. Now *step aside.*
{{CC}}Charisma: $(scene.alarmCharismaValue_Hard){{/CC}} No need to be alarmed, sir. I'm here by request of Ms. Tsang herself. Lab Twelve is performing a protocol review.
The one day I leave my ID at home... Can't you make an exception just for today? Front-door security already let me through.
C'mon. Is that really necessary?
Issat right?

{{GM}}The guard lifts his commlink. After a moment, he speaks.{{/GM}}

Got someone here saying $(l.he)'s a company consultant. We have anything like that scheduled?
Yeah. Here at the labs. Should I give $(l.him) clearance?

{{GM}}A pause.{{/GM}}

Understood.

{{GM}}His commlink clicks off.{{/GM}}
Apparently we've had some security passes stolen recently.

{{GM}}He raises his gun.{{/GM}}

Nice try, whoever you are.
Hey, not so fast!

{{GM}}His hand flies to the gun at his side.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Charisma: $(scene.alarmCharismaValue_Medium){{/CC}} Sir, this evaluation is integral to internal operations. Do you really think I'd have gotten into the building and past front-door security without legitimate credentials? Now, I'll say it again: step aside.
{{GM}}His hand relaxes.{{/GM}}

Yeah... Okay. You're right. Sometimes security can be a little overkill here - I get it. Please, go right ahead.
I didn't hear anything about a review. And why would Lab Twelve care about what's happening in this department?
I have Ms. Tsang's direct line if you need to hear it straight from her. However... I'm not supposed to dial it unless there's an emergency. But it seems to me you're "making" this an emergency.
{{GM}}His uncertainty turns to anger, but he submits.{{/GM}}

Damnit. You Lab Twelve people think you can do whatever you want, don't you? Just get on with your review already.
Good day, sir.
Appreciate it.
Glad you're seeing things my way. Now, excuse me.
Jerk.
{{GM}}He looks you over.{{/GM}}

Just a second.
{{GM}}The guard lifts his commlink. After a moment, he speaks.{{/GM}}

Got someone here who left $(l.hisher) ID at home. Anyone come through security like that?

Yeah. Here at the labs.
{{GM}}A pause.{{/GM}}

Understood.

{{GM}}His commlink clicks off.{{/GM}}
It's policy. No exceptions.

Any Tsang employee would know that...
{{GM}}He raises his gun.{{/GM}}

Nice try, stranger.
Whoa, slow down there - this is a restricted area. I'll need to see your ID.
{{GM}}Show him your Tsang security passes.{{/GM}} Maintenance sent me up to replace some light fixtures. Company wants to see if different lighting makes employees more productive.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(scene.alarmCharismaValue_Medium){{/CC}} Calm down, I'm from maintenance. Just here to replace some lights. It's not like I *stole* this uniform or something. Now, if you don't mind...
The one day I leave my ID at home... Can't you make an exception? Front-door security already let me through.
Issat right?

{{GM}}The guard lifts his commlink. After a moment, he speaks.{{/GM}}

Got someone here saying $(l.he)'s with maintenance. We have anything like that scheduled?
{{GM}}His uncertainty turns into an embarrassed chuckle.{{/GM}}

Yeah... you're right. Between you and me, sometimes security can be a little overkill around here.

Anyway, I won't hold you up. Good luck.
Lightning Slash
The magical sword shoots a lightning bolt. Adds 2 HP DMG over the weapon's base DMG.
An well armored synthleather vest with pockets for foci, fetishes, and spellbooks.
The thing that looms over you is horrifying. A twisted amalgamation of woman and swarm, knotted and tied together into a single whole.
Gobbet.

{{GM}}The voice that pours from the creature is disturbingly human. A woman's voice, crisp and cultured.{{/GM}}

You have returned to me, little mouse.
{{GM}}Gobbet's nose crinkles in revulsion. Madness and Folly chitter and shriek.{{/GM}}

Save me the speech, Malvina - or whatever you are. You didn't sell the whole "benevolent monarch" thing very well when you were human, and the new body isn't doing you any favors.
{{GM}}The Rat King's voice grows to a bone-shaking roar.{{/GM}}

INSOLENT GIRL! YOU FORGET YOURSE--
Oh, fuck this.

{{GM}}She pulls back the slide on her weapon.{{/GM}}

We're sinking this boat, and you along with it.
Bite
{{GM}}The owner of this shop barely looks from his PDA while greeting you. His tone is one of immense boredom.{{/GM}}

Welcome to Minh Vuong Matrix Materials, aka MVMM. What can I get you?
Show me what you have for sale.
Tokko
An illegal street drug. Adds +1 Body, +1 Strength, and +1 Willpower for 5 RNDS. Every time the user is attacked, Strength increases.
Tokko: Body +1, Strength +1, Willpower +1
Lab Safe Keycard
A keycard for opening Taylor and Hardingham's lab safe.
Experimental Data
Process and results data from the Omega Sequence #358 D files.
Rigger and roboticist. Fights with the aid of his milspec walker-form drone, Koschei.
Crew: Rigger
You come upon a heavily muscled triad soldier screaming at a bearded old man holding a bleeding nose.
{{GM}}The punk wags a cheap, disposable credstick in the old man's face.{{/GM}}

*This???*

{{GM}}The bright plastic case would look cheerful if it weren't smeared with blood.{{/GM}}
This isn't *enough.*

You've got two options, old man: you can find a way to pay me ALL the money, or you can drag your bony ass deeper into the Wall. Find a spot for yourself there, with the pimps and the predators.

They should find a nice use for you. Your choice.
{{GM}}The old man wails.{{/GM}}

It's not fair! I can't just pack up and leave!

I've been living here twenty-two years, and I--
Is this how it's going to be?

{{GM}}He rolls his burly shoulders.{{/GM}}

Fine by me.
Colt Manhunter (Smartlink)
Pistol: A heavy pistol created to perform under the most extreme situations. Includes a Smartlink for greater accuracy.
Strangler Bao's Code
Activate Toxin Exhaler
Melee range. A toxin sac implanted above the larynx sprays a poisonous mist into the target's face. Ignores all armor.
Rat Totem
The power of Rat steals control of a hostile summoned spirit. Lasts 3 RNDS.
Stolen
Force 3 Earth Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 3 Earth Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
It might be possible to use the network connection on this police motorcycle to do some damage to their local network. Il semble être possible d'utiliser la connexion réseau de cette moto de police pour endommager leur réseau local.
{{CC}}Decking: 2{{/CC}} {{GM}}Deactivate the drones.{{/GM}} {{CC}}Decking: 2{{/CC}} {{GM}}Désactiver les drones.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Drone Control: 2{{/CC}} {{GM}}Send a remote command to override the local drones' IFF routine.{{/GM}} {{CC}}Drone Control: 2{{/CC}} {{GM}}Envoyer une commande à distance pour surcharger les routines IFF des drones.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Back off.{{/GM}} {{GM}}Reculer.{{/GM}}
The police drones power down.
The police drones will now ignore previous orders and fire on their masters.
Force 2 Earth Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 2 Earth Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Packed with phosphorus, this grenade causes an additional -4 HP for 3 RNDS. Strips 3 Armor from affected targets.
Force 6 Abomination Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 6 Abomination Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
For that professional rigger look. Grants +1 Drone Combat and +1 Drone Control.
The MTR train awaits. With it, the promise of safety and freedom from any more unforseen complications.
{{GM}}The Jarl nods in appreciation, extending a hand to you.{{/GM}}

Thanks for all the help tonight. I don't know if I'd have been able to get out of there without you. The world's better off with people like you in it.
What will you do now?
Good luck out there, Jarl.
{{GM}}He shrugs and grins.{{/GM}}

The usual. Make a handoff, get paid. Probably take a few more jobs out here. Got a lot of debts to pay off, you know?

Nothing's free in this life.
You keep safe out there, okay? We all gotta stick together.

If we don't, we end up with bullets in our back.
Take care, Jarl.
Thanks. I could always use some better luck.

I hope yours changes, too. You seem like you could use a milk run, after that debacle.
{{GM}}Opti exhales a sigh of relief.{{/GM}}

It's not every day you have a run go that sideways and live to tell about it. I don't think I'd have been able to get out of that jam without your help.

Still... Beats the hell out of a desk job.
Good luck out there, Opti.
Gotta get more jobs. Too many debts, not enough juice. And I got a lot of friends back in the UCAS that're counting on me.

That's life for you, right? Always gotta hustle just to scrape by.
{{GM}}Opti extends a hand to you.{{/GM}}

Keep safe out there. This world's tough enough without losing more decent people, you hear me?
Take care, Opti.
Hey, same to you! After this run, you could use it...
Another run over, and I'm still breathing. Bad as this run was, I'll always take that result.

I don't know if that'd be the case if you didn't stick your neck out for us back there.
Good luck out there, Dizzy.
{{GM}}Dizzy waves a hand noncommittally.{{/GM}}

I don't know. More work out here, I guess? It's a big city, and there's a lot of call for shadowrunners these days. I always have bills to pay, so why not stay where the work is?
You keep safe out there, okay? This is a tough damn life, but it's better for having you in it.
Take care, Dizzy.
Aww, thanks! Seems like we could both use some better luck after tonight, eh?
{{GM}}Wiping his brow with the back of one hand, Bull nods toward you.{{/GM}}

You saved the hell out of my bacon tonight. Thank you - seriously. Not a lot of people'd stick their necks out for another runner like you did.

I ain't gonna forget this, I promise you that.
Good luck out there, Bull.
Gotta keep working. I've got a hell of a lot of friends back in Chicago that are counting on me to get 'em out of the containment zone. That takes a hell of a lot of money.

Once that's done, I don't know. Maybe head back to the UCAS. Maybe check out Denver for a bit.
You keep safe, all right?

There aren't enough decent folk in this world. Be a shame if you got killed.
Take care, Bull.
Hey, we both need better luck after tonight! Maybe a nice milk run to smooth it out...
Force 5 Earth Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 5 Earth Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Aimed Burst
Two attacks in one action. Low critical damage. Increases accuracy by 10%. Uses four bullets. Shares a cooldown with other Aim attack abilities.
Auto-Repair Prototype Data
A collection of specifications, whitepapers and research notes on the construction of a drone auto-repair system.
Force 3 Abomination Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 3 Abomination Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Kunai Ninja Suit
A Renraku-made suit that is a street favorite. Grants +1 Throwing Weapons and +1 Movement.
Force 4 Earth Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 4 Earth Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
This old rusted water valve might be able to close off the flow of water that's pouring out of the broken pipe.
{{CC}}Strength: 3{{/CC}} {{GM}}Wrench on the shutoff controls.{{/GM}}
Duncan, can you give me a hand with this?
The flow of water ceases. Less clean water will run off into the streets now.
{{GM}}Duncan steps up to the valve.{{/GM}}

Sure thing. Shouldn't be too hard...
Service Door Key
Rooster has been using a service entrance here at the Shangri-La to stay out of view of most security and patrons. This has let him go undetected in his visits for years. This could mean a discreet way out.
Racter's Secure Coat
Docks Gate Key Clé du portail des docks
A swipe key found on a triad member in Victoria Harbour. Un passe d'accès trouvé sur un membre de la triade à Victoria Harbour.
Your mind wrenches - inverts - and then violently jerks back into your skull. Your stomach cramps hard and the taste of bile burns your throat. A thin trickle of cold sweat slides down the small of your back and your eyes refuse to focus.

Your crew fares no better. Gobbet pulls herself from the floor, Madness and Folly squeaking worriedly in the folds of her clothing. Is0bel grips a railing, her back to the group, retching silently.
Racter's leans against Koshei, his face ashen staring at the ceiling. He blinks rapidly, processing.
Gaichu stands perfectly still in the center of the car, hands at his sides, his face impassive.
{{GM}}Wu breathes deeply, his hands on his knees.{{/GM}}

That wasn't a dream.

{{GM}}He shakes his head like a lion's mane and spits on the floor.{{/GM}}

That was something *else.*
{{GM}}Gobbet's breathing is shallow. She's covered in a thin sheen of sweat.{{/GM}}

It was a vision.
I saw some sort of *machine* inside the Walled City.

{{GM}}Is0bel turns, squinting in concentration. Her lips are white.{{/GM}}

It was *churning* something.

It felt... wrong... impossible. I think it was ripping... I don't know...
*Reality.*

{{GM}}The ork girl shudders.{{/GM}}

It was ripping a hole in reality.
Something is here, my friends. Something has... arrived.
I believe we have just fallen in over our heads.
{{GM}}Wu straightens up, drawing the back of a wrist across his mouth.{{/GM}}

What the hell *was* that, Raymond?
No answer.

Wu spins to find Raymond cowering, his head in his hands, shuddering and weeping.
She's here.
Oh, crap. Who's here, Raymond?
What the *hell* is going on?
{{GM}}Place a hand on his shoulder.{{/GM}} Breathe, Raymond. Breathe.
The Queen... With a Thousand Teeth.
She's here.

The Queen With a Thousand Teeth.
{{GM}}Raymond rocks in place, hugging himself, starting past you at someone only he can see.{{/GM}}

I left Prosperity in there.
I left Prosperity in there.
I left Prosperity in there.
Uh-oh. Looks like Raymond's gone bye-bye.
Shhh! Gobbet!

{{GM}}Is0bel whispers her admonishment.{{/GM}}
Take it easy, Raymond. You're with me. $(s.firstname).
{{GM}}Snap your fingers in front of Raymond's face.{{/GM}} Ray. Ray. *Back here,* Ray.
{{GM}}Gently squeeze his shoulder.{{/GM}} Edward, can you hear me?
{{GM}}The old man looks at you as if seeing you for the first time.{{/GM}}

$(l.firstname)... y-you came.
{{GM}}The old man's brow furrows at the name.{{/GM}}

Prefer... ... prefer... Raymond.
{{GM}}Raymond blinks his eyes open. His voice is weak. Hesitant. Disconnected somehow.{{/GM}}

A-are we in the... s-subway?

{{GM}}The right corner of his mouth twitches noticeably.{{/GM}}
Why is he stuttering?
He's not. I used to stutter... and this doesn't sound like a stutter to me.

Something else is going on.

Could be the visions. Could be the aborted brain surgery. Or some combination of the two.
Something b-bad is happening... b-began a long time ago...

And I'm responsible.

{{GM}}His eyes open wide.{{/GM}}

The Queen... Prosperity...
The Queen With a Thousand Teeth - these dreams, visions - they've been coming to you for a long time, haven't they?
Okay, that it - time you explained what the hell is going on here.
What is Prosperity, Raymond? Why is all this happening?
Yes. Oh yes. I've been plagued by the n-nightmares... for a l-long time.

{{GM}}Raymond's lips start to tremble.{{/GM}}

They began years ago... sporadically at first. Vague dreams... wrapped tight with guilt. With shame.
{{GM}}Raymond's eyes roll back in his head and he closes them tight.{{/GM}}

... until this last year when... the... the...

{{GM}}He searches for the word.{{/GM}}

...the *frequency* began to increase. Then the imagery clarified... started to r-repeat.
Teeth. Thousands and thousands of teeth.

{{GM}}He sways for a moment, dizzy.{{/GM}}

And the sound... the sounds of s-suffering... began to drown out... even my w-waking thoughts.
That's when I knew I had to come back.
To do what?
The truth, Raymond. Why did your mother have you kidnapped? Why try to erase your memory?
To correct a mistake... I made a long time ago.

{{GM}}He puts a hand out and steadies himself on Wu's arm.{{/GM}}

My fault...

Prosperity...

All those p-people... those poor, poor p-people...
To stop me from correcting a mistake... a mistake I m-made a long time ago.

{{GM}}He puts a hand out and steadies himself on Wu's arm.{{/GM}}

My fault...

Prosperity...

All those people... those poor, poor p-people...
{{GM}}Gobbet interposes herself between you and Raymond.{{/GM}}

Hey, take it easy, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). Can't you see he's sick?
You're right, Gobbet. It's just that this whole thing has been nuts and I still don't understand what's going on.
I don't care. Shit's fucked up and he's got something to do with it.
Sorry Raymond. I just need to understand why all of this is happening.
{{GM}}Raymond turns his head towards you, trying to focus.{{/GM}}

I understand the f-feeling...

It was only recently... that I f-figured out what was going on, $(l.honorific) $(l.lastname).
{{GM}}He puts a hand out and steadies himself on Wu's arm.{{/GM}}

My fault...

Prosperity...

All those people... those poor, poor p-people...
I don't just have... s-something to do with it... $(l.honorific) $(l.lastname).

This is my fault.
{{GM}}Raymond turns his head towards you, trying to focus.{{/GM}}

I understand... it's just a s-story that I'm... ahhh...

{{GM}}He snarls it out.{{/GM}}

...*ashamed to tell.*
Raymond turns his head towards you, trying to focus.
This is all b-because of me... and m-my mother. Something we did... a long time ago.

{{GM}}He puts a hand out and steadies himself on Wu's arm.{{/GM}}

My fault...

Prosperity...

All those people... those poor, poor p-people...
When you worked on the Walled City?
The Prosperity project?
Yes. We r-rebuilt it in 2031. A new approach to... to...

{{GM}}He fidgets with his gauze bandage.{{/GM}}

...low-income housing.

I was in charge of a s-special project... an experimental project. One that would help c-countless p-people... if we were successful.
{{GM}}Wu's tone gets a little sharper.{{/GM}}

We know. We already covered this, Raymond.

Prosperity.
{{GM}}Shame eclipses the old man's face.{{/GM}}

You know... about Prosperity?
Yes. Sort of.

{{GM}}Wu's tone gets a little sharper.{{/GM}}

We already covered this, Raymond. We know that it's in the center of the Walled City. And that Edward Tsang built it.
And we have Edward Tsang here to explain the whole thing. Right Edward?
Why don't you start at the beginning, Raymond? Tell us what all this is about.
Edward. Yes. That's m-me. Edward Tsang is Raymond Black.

I know. I c-can explain.
The beginning... some time in the '20s... my... mother was awarded the...

{{GM}}He searches for the word.{{/GM}}

The CONTRACT!... the contract to rebuild th-the... housing development... the Walled City...
Well... uh, from the results, I'd say your mom kinda blew it. Prosperity failed.
{{GM}}Frustration appears in the old man's tired eyes.{{/GM}}

I told you! The Walled City *wasn't* the Prosperity project.

Prosperity was the FORTUNE ENGINE I built at the *center* of the Walled City.

My s-special p-project.
Fortune Engine? What are you talking about?

{{GM}}Wu sneers.{{/GM}}

You can't create fortune, Raymond.
You kinda can, Gun Show. Some practitioners of feng shui believe they can do it. Ever heard of the Bagua of the Eight Aspirations?
{{GM}}Wu looks at Gobbet flatly.{{/GM}}

No, Gobbet. I must've skipped school that day.
Me too. And I want to skip it now. Let's cut to the chase.
Keep going, Gobbet. I want to hear this.
Sure, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). No need to know were electricity comes from. You just flip the switch and it works, right?

{{GM}}She looks sidelong at Raymond.{{/GM}}

So what does your Fortune Engine do?
{{GM}}Gobbet wrinkles her nose at Wu.{{/GM}}

It's neo-feng shui. The Masters of the craft can map the flow of qi and how it corresponds to different aspects in someone's life:

Fame, relationships, creativity, inner knowledge, health... and fortune.
That's six. I thought you said there were eight aspects.
{{GM}}The little ork shrugs.{{/GM}}

I don't remember the other two. But one of 'em was definitely fortune.

{{GM}}She looks sidelong at Raymond.{{/GM}}

So what does your Fortune Engine do?
The Fortune Engine was d-designed to improve the balance of qi in a negative-qi environment.
A negative-qi environment?
Somewhere shitty. Like a slum.
{{GM}}Raymond corrects her.{{/GM}}

Like a l-low income housing project.

I believed that with the Fortune Engine... the r-rebuilt Walled City might never *become* a slum.
{{GM}}He drifts off for a moment, remembering. Then he squeezes his eyes shut and lowers his head.{{/GM}}

But the machine... malfunctioned.
Malfunctioned how?
How does this thing work in the first place?
How do you know how to create magic machines, Ray? I thought you were an industrial engineer.
The mechanism I created to... circulate negative qi in the Walled City...

{{GM}}He brings a liver-spotted hand to his mouth.{{/GM}}

... it... got stuck.
Stuck on what?
Raymond rises slowly, pulling himself from his crumpled heap.

His tone turns instructive - the old Raymond. But this time, his explanation is halting and weary.
Think of the Fortune Engine as a sort of... p-propeller blade moving through... through... Astral Space... circulating qi... keeping it...

{{GM}}He hunts for the word.{{/GM}}

...fresh.
When qi flows... when the r-rhythm is right... the results are positive.

Fortuitous.
When I brought my design for the Fortune Engine to... m-my mother, she *embraced* it.

{{GM}}He exhales.{{/GM}}

She more than embraced it... she bankrolled it... put an entire *division* of Tsang Mechanical under me to develop it.
Sounds like a big bet.
{{GM}}Raymond nods rapidly.{{/GM}}

The biggest of her career.

Mother said that if the m-machine could bring... fortune to the... l-l-l... *less* fortunate, it would p-prove my theory...
And if it could help the poor, imagine what a Fortune Engine could do for Josephine Tsang.
{{GM}}Wu's jaw clenches.{{/GM}}

But that's not what happened, was it? Something went wrong.

The people in the Walled City *didn't* benefit from your Fortune Engine, did they Raymond?
The old man bows his head. Doesn't answer.
Raymond. Why didn't your Fortune Engine work?
Answer the question, Raymond! What went wrong?
Dad? Dad, what happened to your Fortune Engine?
It got... stuck.

{{GM}}He doesn't raise his head.{{/GM}}

The m-mechanism I... c-created to circulate n-negative qi in the Walled City... got stuck.
{{GM}}You can see Wu's patience blowing away like autumn leaves in a high wind. He rubs his head viscously in frustration.{{/GM}}

Stuck on *what,* Raymond?
The old man gets a confused look on his face. His lips move soundlessly for several moments.
{{GM}}Wu leans in close. Drops to a whisper. Seethes in his foster-father's face.{{/GM}}

Stuck on *what?*
{{GM}}Raymond winces at Wu's tone and stumbles back a step. But it does the job and the old man focuses.{{/GM}}

S-s-s... s-something in Astral Sspace... I wasn't sure what.
Uh, that sounds bad.
The machine started... *pooling* negative qi...

{{GM}}The old man's breathing begins to accelerate.{{/GM}}

... and the Walled City started to *fill* with it.

Fortunes turned b-bad.
I've been in places where the feng shui was really bad.

That's not what I felt when I was in the Walled City.
No. Qi needs to flow.

Eventually, the enormous pool of negative qi became... *toxic*

Fortunes turned from b-bad to worse.

Much w-worse.
{{GM}}Raymond's shoulders slump.{{/GM}}

Mother's vision for a rebuilt... revitalized Walled City f-fell to ruin. It only took a few years... for the trapped toxic qi to turn a brand new housing development into... a hellish slum.
That was a staggering failure.
Why didn't you turn it off?
That was almost twenty years ago!
The Fortune Engine... causing th-thousands to suffer... m-miserably... that was a tragedy.

What we did next... was the *real* failure.
What was that?

{{GM}}Wu's baritone rasp lowers.{{/GM}}

What did you *do,* Raymond?
Nothing.

{{GM}}Raymond can't meet Wu's eyes.{{/GM}}

Not one damn thing.
Did you forget to design an *off* switch? Why the hell didn't you stop the damn machine?
I couldn't.

Something... happened... part of the malf-f-f...function.

We couldn't turn it off.
Then why didn't you blow it up? Wrap it in C6 and turn it into a scrap heap.
Mother refused.
{{GM}}Wu's tone turns icy cold.{{/GM}}

Why?
I never found out... she wouldn't tell me. She would only say that it wasn't worth spending the additional r-resources to figure out how to fix it.

Or even how to turn it off.
{{GM}}Words start spilling out of the old man.{{/GM}}

She sealed off the maintenance room... our engineers poured a...a...a...*sarcophagus* of thick concrete around it so n-no one would ever find it... ever find out what we had done.
Then she wrote the project off as a business loss and moved on like nothing had ever happened.

Right?
Yes.

{{GM}}His face flushes and he fidgets with the gauze bandage on his head.{{/GM}}

After that, I left Hong Kong... started a new life in Seattle...

Found you t-two.
You should have stayed! Tried to *do* something about it!

{{GM}}Wu grimaces, disappointed.{{/GM}}

You were a coward, Raymond.
Yes.

{{GM}}Raymond stands up straight, takes a shaky step towards Wu.{{/GM}}

Yes, Duncan. I was a coward.
And the guilt... the b-burden of my cowardice gripped me like a v-vise that never loosened... it's eaten me from the inside for twenty years.

{{GM}}He licks his lips, tries to breathe.{{/GM}}

And then the... the... nightmares began... horrible.

Still, I kept working on the problem, night and day.
Did you ever figure out how to stop it?
That's the work that kept you in your study until all hours of the morning!
It took me years... even after you left... to make the connections... find... what to do.

But I did. I figured it out.

And still the nightmares intensified... until... they became unbearable. I knew I had to come back. Fix what I had done.

That's why I contacted you - to help me see it through.
Wu mumbles something but all you can make out is the word "coward."
What about the... rip in reality we saw in our vision?
Wait. There's still a piece missing. What's causing the visions we're all having?
{{GM}}Raymond's voice flattens.{{/GM}}

When the machine... malfunctioned... when the circulator became... stuck in Astral Space... it lodged in another... d-domain.

{{GM}}He sways and his lips begin to tremble.{{/GM}}

And something lived there.
Not good.
{{GM}}The old man begins to drift.{{/GM}}

After twenty years of c-constant force... the circulator finally began t-t-tearing... Astral Space... created a r-rupture in *her* d-domain...

{{GM}}He begins rocking in place.{{/GM}}

And now she's pushing through.
And now she's pushing through.
And now she's pushing through.
Yeah, she's pushing through all right.

{{GM}}Wu snarls at his foster-father.{{/GM}}

The Queen With a Thousand FUCKING Teeth!

A thing *you* brought here, Raymond!
{{GM}}Raymond stops his rocking. Becomes fully lucid. He snaps back at Wu.{{/GM}}

I *understand* that, Mr. Wu! That's why I came BACK!

I believe she is... only *partially* here!

She hasn't pushed all the way through yet!
She's probing her new h-hunting g-ground... must...

{{GM}}The emotional strain of his snap at Wu rattles him again.{{/GM}}

I know what to do now... how to e-e-extract the circulator... shut the machine down... before she can...

...f-fully... manifest.
Just get me to the center of the Walled City... to the Fortune Engine... I will do the rest.

Please. Help me.

Help *them.*
You helped us overcome some some hairy mistakes when we were kids, Ray. Now we get to help you fix yours.
Duncan's right. There's a *thing* in there and it needs to be sent home.
These visions are turning my guts inside out. I'm need to stop them at the source.
The Walled City is a serious revenue source for the triads. If we fix this, Kindly Cheng is gonna shower us in gold.
That machine has caused unspeakable misery. It needs to be shut down.
I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I can go back in there.

{{GM}}The little decker's eyes open wide - more white than iris. Her breathing becomes faster, shallower.{{/GM}}

It's not just a thing in there, $(l.name). It's a Yama King.

A demon goddess.
We're trapped, Izz. We can't run, and believe me, I *want to.* It's all I've been thinking of.

{{GM}}The rat shaman's shoulders rise with tension.{{/GM}}

But the APB is still out on us and those visions... I got a feeling they're not gonna stop unless we *make* 'em stop. And that fragile old man's the only way to do it.
{{GM}}She looks down at her friend. Her voice is gentle.{{/GM}}

We've got to take him in there, Izz. We've gotta help him fix this.
I, for one, wish to see this Fortune Engine. I am intrigued.

{{GM}}Racter's pale eyes glint.{{/GM}}

I willingly go.
{{GM}}Gaichu's face remains impassive but his eyelids lower in anticipation.{{/GM}}

I have the opportunity to kill a god. I cannot allow the opportunity to pass unanswered.
{{GM}}Wu's voice drops to a mumble.{{/GM}}

I hate this fucking country. I hate this life.
$(l.firstname) is right.

We owe you, Raymond, and I'm not walking away from that. I'll help you fix your mess or die trying. Then we'll be even.

{{GM}}He stares evenly at Raymond, his voice cold.{{/GM}}

I'm no coward.
{{GM}}The little decker's eyes open wide - more white than iris. Her breathing becomes faster, shallower.{{/GM}}

It's not just a thing, $(l.name). It's a Yama King. A demon goddess.

I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I can go back in there.
We're trapped, Izz. We can't run, and believe me, I *want to.* It's all I've been thinking of.

{{GM}}The rat shaman's shoulders rise with tension.{{/GM}}

But the APB is still out on us and those visions... I got a feeling they're not gonna stop unless we *make* 'em stop. And that fragile old man's the only way to do it.

We've got to take him in there, Izz. We've gotta help him fix this.
I hate this country. I hate this life.

{{GM}}Wu's sets his jaw and hooks his thumbs into his belt. He stares evenly at Raymond, his voice cold.{{/GM}}

But I owe you, Raymond, and I'm not walking away from that. I intend to make us even.

I'll help you fix your mess or die trying.
{{GM}}The little decker's eyes open wide - more white than iris.{{/GM}}

Do you understand what you're saying?! The source isn't just a *thing,* $(l.name). It's a Yama King.

A demon goddess.
{{GM}}Her breathing becomes faster, shallower.{{/GM}}

I don't... I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I can go back in there.
{{GM}}The little decker's eyes open wide - more white than iris.{{/GM}}

Gold?! Are you out of your mind? It's not just a *thing* in there, $(l.name). It's a Yama King.

A demon goddess.
Whatever misery the machine's caused is nothing compared to what's gonna happen now.

{{GM}}The little decker's eyes open wide - more white than iris.{{/GM}}

It's not just a *thing,* in there $(l.name). It's a Yama King. A demon goddess.

{{GM}}Her breathing becomes faster, shallower.{{/GM}}

I don't... I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I can go back in there.
IT GOT STUCK!

{{GM}}He grabs his head with both hands, squeezes his eyes shut.{{/GM}}

The mechanism I created to...to... to... circulate negative qi in the Walled City... got stuck.
{{GM}}Raymond's response is barely audible.{{/GM}}

It got stuck.

The mechanism I created to...to... to... circulate negative qi in the Walled City... got stuck.
I am.

I also have several... a-advanced degrees... doctorates in Physics... Taoist Alchemy.

{{GM}}The old man shrugs shakily.{{/GM}}

My m-mother pushed me... hard... to reach my p-potential.
{{GM}}Wu stares at him blankly.{{/GM}}

A doctorate in Magic. Great. Something *else* we didn't know about you.
You guys can work through your family secrets later.

{{GM}}Is0bel leans in and speaks gently to Raymond.{{/GM}}

How did the machine malfunction?
Shouldn't have waited. Shouldn't have hid.

{{GM}}He looks up at you with bloodshot eyes.{{/GM}}
Street Brawler Set
A SecureTech vest elevates this armor's protection while still retaining mobility for streetwear use.
Activate Reflex Trigger
The body's reflexes are amplified, causing you to be able to dodge the first attack made against you each round.
Killjoy Lvl 1
Does -1 AP to single target.
Force 5 Abomination Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 5 Abomination Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
On the elevator wall is a large panel covered in buttons. A keypad is mounted beside it.

The buttons are left unlabeled, but you know from the Plastic-Faced Man's data which floors have security stations.
{{GM}}Enter the second code.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Floor B3: Utility Sub-basement{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Floor G1: Lobby{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Floor 26: Sales and Acquisitions{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Lab Twelve{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Floor 49: Thaumaturgical Research{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Enter a numerical code.{{/GM}}
44526
VERIFYING...

Sequence accepted: access to Special Projects granted. Please have your Omega ID ready at check-in.
25301
VERIFYING...

Numerical code accepted. Please enter second sequence.
The terminal winks to life at your approach.
It's still drawing power. That's promising.

{{GM}}Her gaze traces across the screen.{{/GM}}

Thing isn't even password-locked. The display looks corrupted, though... lots of garbled text and gibberish on that screen.
{{GM}}Use the terminal.{{/GM}} There's only one way to find out.
As long as we can open the door with it, we're good. We don't need it for anything else.
{{GM}}Use the terminal.{{/GM}} Let's find out.
>>TSZNGMECH4NIC4L S3RV1C3S<<
>>SPECIAL PRZJXCTS D57ISION<<
IFIE_____W.XLFNNX__2302VF3__*/1

>>PROSPNRITY ADMIN0SYSTEM<<

<<1.//OP1N TESTBED DZOR>>
<<O.//SEDC_##135345@XV>>
<<Z.//QQV1__RRPWED__3R>>
{{GM}}Attempt to open the door to the Fortune Engine's testbed.{{/GM}} Here goes nothing...
You select the door controls from the computer's menu and command them to open.

The screen flickers, then goes dark.
Damn it. Let me take a look--
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a wave of nausea grabs you by the guts and twists.

It doubles you over, then fades.
{{GM}}Duncan turns to face you, wincing.{{/GM}}

What was--
As you straighten, you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straight. A buzzing sensation washes over you, drowning out your companion's words and filling your head with white, warm static.

In the center of the room, something blossoms into the world.
The figure from your dreams looms over you, enormous and alien. The creature is beautiful and terrifying in equal measure, a thing of billowing silk and carved ivory.

Qian Ya stands, still as a statue, peering down at you from behind a mask of sculpted gold. Smaller spirits take up positions around her, bowing their heads in deference.
Well. Um.

{{GM}}Her hands tighten on her weapon as the color drains from her cheeks.{{/GM}}

Shit.
Stay calm. We can handle this.
Suddenly, I'm beginning to doubt our plan.
That's... a lot bigger than I expected.
I've been looking forward to killing this thing all day.
Slowly, with a broad, languid motion, Qian Ya's body begins to shift.

The crescent-shaped ivory horns that crown her head cut through the light as she moves, casting strange shadows on the wall behind her.
You are here.

{{GM}}The voice that pours from behind the thing's mask is indescribably beautiful. The tones are high and musical, and seem to hang in the air long after she finishes speaking.{{/GM}}

You have come to us.
{{GM}}In the corners of the room, servitor creatures echo their queen's words, the garbled sounds piping through gaps in their enamel-lined carapaces.{{/GM}}

...coooome to usssss...
We called to you across the breadth of space and time. And now you are here, standing before us.

Just as you were meant to be.
Why did you call to me? What do you want?
You don't get to dictate what I'm meant to do. My choices are my own.
You're not a god or a queen, Qian Ya. You're nothing but a glorified parasite.
We call to all who will listen.

{{GM}}Her voice is joyous. Triumphant.{{/GM}}

All are welcome in our court.
...aaallll are wellllcome...
...And all are welcome in our larder.

{{GM}}The Yama King spreads its arms, its movements full of malevolent grace.{{/GM}}

You belong here, slave-thing. With us. Now, and for all time.
I'm not your slave. In fact, I'm here to make a deal with you.
You're no queen. I don't even know what you are.
I'm gonna blow you back to whatever hell you crawled out of.
DEBUG: Skip to Phase 2 Warps
{{GM}}She blinks.{{/GM}}

Wait. What?
{{GM}}The Queen With a Thousand Teeth lowers her head contemplatively. Her incandescent veil ripples like silk as she moves.{{/GM}}

Such a thing could be arranged... perhaps. If you are worthy.
How do I prove myself worthy?
I am.
{{GM}}Qian Ya's gown parts as she raises a forearm. Your mind rebels against the alien biology that you see underneath - the wet, glistening crenelations of flesh, enamel, and keratin that make up the Yama King's body.{{/GM}}

We will judge your worth, slave-thing. Determine whether you are better suited in our court, or in our stomach. We will test you.
Your part is simple.

{{GM}}The musical tones of the Yama King's voice are high-pitched and giddy.{{/GM}}

You need only endure.
It opens its arms to you, offering a view of the chisel-like teeth that protrude from its flesh. Saliva glints on bone-white enamel.

All around you, the gibbering of the Queen's servitors grows to a fever pitch.
{{GM}}Racter stares up at the creature, his jaw hanging open in awe.{{/GM}}

Magnificent. Absolutely magnificent.
The Queen With a Thousand Teeth lowers her head, and the unnaturally thick air turns rank and cold.

Waves of nausea wrack your stomach as a foul wind slides over you like mud.
You will be tested, meat. If you are found wanting, we will rip your nerves out at the root and gorge ourselves on your flesh.

{{GM}}Her musical voice builds to a towering crescendo that crashes into you like a sledgehammer.{{/GM}}

PROVE YOURSELF TO US, MEAT. PROVE YOURSELF OR SERVE US FOREVER.
{{GM}}Gobbet stares up at the creature, her eyes darting across the shimmering expanse of its body.{{/GM}}

Well, it's official. I'm terrified.
{{GM}}Gaichu stares up at the creature. Grunts.{{/GM}}

Impressive.
{{GM}}Duncan stares up at the creature, his jaw clenched.{{/GM}}

I'm scared shitless, $(l.name). Not ashamed to admit it.
{{GM}}Is0bel stares up at the creature, her eyes darting across the shimmering expanse of its body.{{/GM}}

Fuck.
The hell did you just say?
Interesting.
{{GM}}Gaichu grunts.{{/GM}}

Hmm. Interesting.
{{GM}}The thing cackles, its throat pulsing rhythmically. The sound catches in your spine like a razorblade.{{/GM}}

The slave-thing presumes to speak to us as though it were our equal.
{{GM}}Qian Ya's iridescent gown parts as she raises a forearm. Your mind rebels against the alien biology that you see underneath - the wet, glistening crenelations of flesh, enamel, and keratin that make up the Yama King's body.{{/GM}}

It is mistaken.
It is chattel. Meat. And we have been starving for a thousand years.

{{GM}}The musical tones of the thing's voice are high-pitched and giddy. It opens its arms to you, offering a view of the chisel-like teeth that protrude from its flesh.{{/GM}}
We will rip your out your nerves at the root. Milk the misery from your protesting body.

{{GM}}Her glistening claws weave strange patterns in the air.{{/GM}}

WE WILL FEAST ON YOUR SORROW, NOW AND FOREVER.
You? Kill *us?*

{{GM}}The thing cackles, its throat pulsing rhythmically. The sound catches in your spine like a razorblade.{{/GM}}

Oh, the noises you make. Such sweet, foolish sounds.
The slave-thing thinks that it can kill us. It is mistaken. It cannot even *comprehend* us.

{{GM}}Qian Ya's iridescent gown parts as she raises a forearm. Your mind rebels against the alien biology that you see underneath - the wet, glistening crenelations of flesh, enamel, and keratin that make up the Yama King's body.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The thing begins to cackle. Its body shudders as the laughter peals out of it.{{/GM}}

The meat presumes to lecture us. Spews its ignorance like bile.

Watch your tongue, slave-thing, or we will twist it around our finger.
...slaaaave-thiiiing...
{{GM}}The Yama King spreads its arms, its movements full of malevolent grace.{{/GM}}

You belong here with us, little puppet. In our court, and in our larder.

Now, and for all time.
{{GM}}Duncan stares up at the enormous being, and the color drains from his cheeks.{{/GM}}

Fuck me. It's really here. The thing from our dreams.
It's here.

{{GM}}She speaks in a small voice, filled with terror.{{/GM}}

A Yama King.
{{GM}}Duncan stares up at the enormous being, an awestruck expression on his face.{{/GM}}

I can see her aura. She fills the room, chokes it with her girth.

It's beautiful.
Ready yourself, my friend. We stand in the presence of a demigod.
{{GM}}Gobbet turns to face you, wincing.{{/GM}}

What was--
{{GM}}Is0bel turns to face you, wincing.{{/GM}}

What was--
{{GM}}Racter turns to face you, wincing.{{/GM}}

What was--
{{GM}}Gaichu turns to face you, his teeth bared.{{/GM}}

What was--
As you straighten, you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straight. A buzzing sensation washes over you, filling your head with white, warm static.

In the center of the room, something blossoms into the world.
Unfortunate.

Perhaps the issue is mechanical. I could take a look--
Well, that's just great. What do we--
Wonderful. So what do we--
Perhaps it can still be used to open the door...? We won't need it for anything else.
It's still drawing power. Promising.

{{GM}}His gaze traces across the screen.{{/GM}}

This terminal isn't password-locked. The display looks corrupted, but I suppose that it might still be usable.
Well, at least the thing is still running.

{{GM}}She frowns down at the terminal's display.{{/GM}}

The display looks corrupted as hell, though. I wonder if we can even use this thing...?
Something's gone right for a change. The terminal's still running.

{{GM}}He frowns down at the terminal's display.{{/GM}}

Display looks corrupted as hell, though. I wonder if we can even use this thing...?
The terminal winks to life at your approach.

A wall of corrupted text fills the screen.
This is an LTG access jack, used for maintenance and diagnostics. A decker could use this to check recent traffic cameras, adjust GridGuide and power flow, and manipulate basic utilities in the local area.
Walk away.
A pack of wild-eyed civilians are trapped behind this makeshift barricade. You can hear them speaking - a maddening stew of slurred words and strange noises, all mixed together into an unintelligible stew.

Some appear to be crying. Others are clearly wounded.
A group of Tsang officers surround the gibbering civilians. They're clearly agitated, some as wild-eyed as the people they're accosting.

Their body language takes you back to the corporate prison, and the years that you spent incarcerated there. This was what it looked like when the guards were about to remove an inmate from the gene pool.
Penned up as they are, the civilians will be helpless to fight back. Unless someone lets them out of their cage, they're as good as dead.
We can't go in, $(l.name). Not unless you're actively looking to get hurt.

{{GM}}She waves a hand in the direction of the corralled civilians.{{/GM}}

I've dealt with these people - they're not right in the head.
What do you mean by "not right"?
You're telling me that a vampire is afraid of a bunch of helpless people?
Then what do you suggest?
Their feeble minds have succumbed to the forces at play in this city. Whatever conscience used to govern their thoughts has degraded or gone... maybe even for good.

They're no longer in control of their actions, and they're dangerous.
They are *not* helpless.

I'm telling you, if you let these people out, things are going to get messy.
We leave. Those people are a threat to us, just as much as those officers are to them.
{{GM}}She sighs.{{/GM}}

...But if you're set on helping them, I suppose that you could use that fusebox over there to blow the barricade.

Who knows? Maybe it'll distract the officers, or something.
{{CC}}Biotech: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Hard){{/CC}} {{GM}}Examine the civilians.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Take a closer look at the explosives.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Leave the civilians to their fate.{{/GM}}
The penned civilians display an odd mix of symptoms, some that you'd associate with brain injury and others with mass hysteria. The slurred speech, animal noises, and unusual behavior are all indicative of low-level brain damage, but the glossolalia is more closely associated with people in the grip of a religious experience.

The fact that these people are even standing is unnerving.
You scan the area. It appears that the only way forward is through the barricade. And with the Tsang officers closing in, you need to make a decision - fast.
You spot two detonation charges: one rigged to the barricade, the second rigged to the bridge.

It looks as though blasting your way forward will also destroy your only known avenue of retreat. If you do this, you could wind up stuck here.
{{GM}}Approach the fusebox to destroy the barricade.{{/GM}}
Aztechnology Secure Coat
Aztechnology created this kevlar tactical coat for their combat mages to have quick access to spellbook and salves.
Doc Wagon Beacon
Sets a doc wagon beacon on a dead runner
Force 2 Abomination Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 2 Abomination Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Cast nervestrike
Fuchi's line of urban wear used by street deckers. Grants +1 Intelligence and +1 Decking.
Locker Code
>2627
Force 1 Earth Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 1 Earth Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
An armored secure coat and suit created for awakened CorpSec operatives. This one must have fallen off a truck.
Predator
Increased Accuracy
Racter's drone, Koschei, gains a +5% accuracy boost for all attacks.
The dream is suffocating - the shifting tunnel of glass and steel, the towering silhouette of dark majesty, the shadowy doorway...

...and the teeth.

They snap at your heels as you as you claw your way back to consciousness.

You open your eyes to Duncan looming over you.
{{GM}}He shakes your shoulder roughly.{{/GM}}

$(l.firstname)!

C'mon, $(l.firstname), wake up! We gotta go talk to Kindly. The others already left.
What's your problem, Duncan?!
That was one rough night.
Was I drooling?
{{GM}}He lets go of your shoulder and cocks a thumb at the hatch.{{/GM}}

We gotta go. I've been trying to wake you for awhile now. You were thrashing around in your sleep.
{{GM}}He lets go of your shoulder. Cocks a thumb at the hatch.{{/GM}}

We gotta go. I've been trying to wake you for awhile now. You were thrashing around in your sleep.
Thrashing around?
Thanks. Let's get going. We don't want to keep a mob boss waiting.
Glad you did. I was having one hell of a nightmare.
Yeah, you were clawing at the air.
Clawing, huh? Did I say anything?
I was having a dream.
Nah, you just mumbled a bit. Nothing I could make out.

{{GM}}He scowls.{{/GM}}

I didn't sleep well either. Bad dream.
What about?
Sorry to hear that. Let's get going.
No kidding? I had a hell of a nightmare last night, myself.
My thinking too. I'm good to go.

{{GM}}From the expression on his face, he doesn't look good to go.{{/GM}}
You look kinda raw.
Yesterday was a tough one.
Did you get some rest?
{{GM}}Wu shrugs.{{/GM}}

Didn't sleep well. Bad dream.
Me too.
{{GM}}He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck.{{/GM}}

Tell me about it. I still have a lot to process. It's gonna take me awhile.

{{GM}}His fingers hit a knot. He winces.{{/GM}}

Plus, I didn't sleep well last night. Bad dream.
Me too. Guess that's why I was thrashing.
{{GM}}He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck.{{/GM}}

Enough I guess.

{{GM}}His fingers hit a knot. He winces.{{/GM}}

I didn't sleep well last night. Bad dream.
Sorry to hear that. You ready to go?
Guess so. I'm not surprised we both had nightmares though.

{{GM}}He stretches his shoulders.{{/GM}}

Nothing's gone right since we stepped foot in this country.
{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

I never remember my dreams all that well. It was probably motion sickness. Not used to sleeping on a boat.

I woke up a little while ago and hit the head. Then I came back and woke you.
You doing okay?
We should go.
Yeah, no sweat.

{{GM}}He stretches his shoulders.{{/GM}}

Today better be a step up from yesterday, $(l.firstname). Nothing's gone right since we stepped foot in this country.
I hear you.
{{GM}}He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck.{{/GM}}

Yeah, I didn't sleep well either. I had a bad dream last night, too.
You okay?
I'll survive.

{{GM}}His fingers hit a knot. He winces.{{/GM}}

But man, nothing's gone right since we stepped foot in this country.
I'll tell you something though - and this is after a full night's sleep - I don't believe Ray's dead.
He's dead, Duncan. You heard the news report. You saw the surveillance footage.
I hope you're right, but I gotta say, it doesn't look good.
What makes you say that?
And you believe everything you see on the news? Because last I checked, we were international terrorists or something.

And that surveillance footage? We never saw Raymond get shot. The camera was hit by stray gunfire.

{{GM}}His passion is intense, but contained. Focused.{{/GM}}

Raymond's alive, $(l.firstname). I know it.
I'm right. Think about it.

That statement from the cops on the newscast could be fake. Ours was. And that surveillance footage? We never saw Raymond get shot. The camera was hit by stray gunfire.

{{GM}}His passion is intense, but contained. Focused.{{/GM}}

Raymond's alive, $(l.firstname). I know it.
Think about it.

That statement from the cops on the newscast could be fake. Ours was. And that surveillance footage? We never saw Raymond get shot. The camera was hit by stray gunfire.

{{GM}}His passion is intense, but contained. Focused.{{/GM}}

Raymond's alive, $(l.firstname). I know it.
You make a good case, Officer Wu.
So what do you want to do now?
Raymond is dead, Duncan. We need to accept that and move on.
{{GM}}He smiles. His teeth are white and straight and perfect.{{/GM}}

Shoulda been a detective instead of a head-buster, right?

{{GM}}His smile fades.{{/GM}}
I don't know. Wait for a lead to turn up, I guess.

{{GM}}He smiles. His teeth are white and straight and perfect.{{/GM}}

I'm just the muscle, remember? You're the brains of this outfit. Just like when we were kids.
So you're just going to walk out on him again, huh?

{{GM}}He deflates visibly.{{/GM}}

Figures.
God, I feel like I'm twelve years old again - *squatting* on a stinking trawler.

My partner's gone. Raymond's gone. Hell, *I'm* gone - I don't even have a *name* anymore.

And now I can't even go to sleep and hide from it all without having a nightmare.
{{GM}}His jaw tightens and his teeth grind so loud you can hear it.{{/GM}}

What else is gonna be taken away from me?
You still have that piercing you got in Tacoma?
Hold it together, Duncan.
Nothing. It's time for us to turn the tables. Do some taking of our own.
I'm here, Duncan. And I'm not going anywhere.
I had to drop that. Hygiene issues.

{{GM}}Wu struggles to smile. He fails.{{/GM}}

What the hell did we fall into here, $(l.firstname)? I mean, what's coming next?
Isn't it obvious? Look around. We're SINless. Living in the shadows. Dealing with criminals.
I don't know. But whatever it is, we'll deal.
Wu is silent for a moment. All you get is a blank expression.
You're thinking of becoming a shadowrunner.

{{GM}}He says it without judgment - just a statement of fact.{{/GM}}
What do you think that jaunt into the Walled City was?
I think we already *are* shadowrunners.
Aren't you?
He crosses his arms, considering.
It was a test. The triad woman was testing us.

Shadowrunners.

Oh man. I have to *think* about this.
*I* think --

{{GM}}He stops and crosses his arms. Considers.{{/GM}}

I think this whole thing has been a blur. I haven't been able to really stop and think for a second.
I wasn't, no. This whole thing has been a blur. I haven't been able to stop and think for a second.

{{GM}}He crosses his arms. Considers.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}He shakes his head slowly. Lets out a groan.{{/GM}}

This isn't the way it's supposed to be.

I'm *supposed* to be a cop.
You get to keep your gun. That's something.
That was then. This is now.
And I want a pony. But we play the cards we're dealt.
Don't mess with me, $(l.man).

{{GM}}He checks his watch.{{/GM}}

Gobbet and Is0bel left awhile ago. We should get going too. See what that triad lady has to say.
{{GM}}He drops his hands to his hips and takes a couple of deep breaths.{{/GM}}

That's right. That's right.

It's like Ray always said --
"Shut up Duncan, and let $(s.firstname) do the talking."
"Life is improvisation."
"When the winds of change blow, some people build walls, others build windmills."
{{GM}}He chuckles. Finally.{{/GM}}

I don't remember Raymond saying that.
He said it under his breath. A lot.
Don't mess with me, $(l.man). You know I've got anger management issues.

{{GM}}He checks his watch.{{/GM}}

Gobbet and Is0bel left awhile ago.

We should get going too. See what that triad lady has to say.
Yeah.

{{GM}}He chuckles. Finally.{{/GM}}

Raymond liked to talk in bumper stickers.
Wu drifts off for a moment, the curl of a smile surrounding his tusks. Then his head dips a bit and the smile fades. He draws a ragged breath.
Whatever.

{{GM}}He checks his watch.{{/GM}}

Gobbet and Is0bel left awhile ago. We should get going too. See what that triad lady has to say.
{{GM}}He chuckles. Finally.{{/GM}}

Raymond never said that. It was our housekeeper, Mrs. Malony.
She had it tattooed on her back, right? How'd you see it?
Oh yeah, right. Never liked her.
Me either.

{{GM}}He checks his watch.{{/GM}}

Gobbet and Is0bel left awhile ago. We should get going too. See what that triad lady has to say.
I'm not sure I have anything left to *hold* together.

{{GM}}He crosses his arms.{{/GM}}

What the hell did we fall into here, $(l.firstname)? I mean, what's coming next?
{{GM}}Wu's head cocks like he's got the scent of something.{{/GM}}

I've heard that tone before. What are you talking about, $(l.firstname)?
What tone? I don't have a tone.
Don't be dense, Duncan. That old woman is setting us up.
Please. I've known you since you're *twelve.* You think I don't know your "Let's make some trouble" tone?

{{GM}}He takes a step forward.{{/GM}}

What are you thinking?
That Kindly Cheng wants to be our Fixer. It makes sense.
What are *you* thinking? That our little jaunt into the Walled City was just a favor?
I'm thinking we just started our new career.
{{GM}}He crosses his arms, considering.{{/GM}}

*Shadowrunners.*

Oh man. I have to think about this.
What the hell are you talking about?

{{GM}}Wu stops. He closes his mouth and starts to connect the dots.{{/GM}}
Yeah, it feels that way to me, too. But setting us up for what?

What are you thinking?
{{GM}}Wu's mouth tightens.{{/GM}}

Too soon, $(l.name).

{{GM}}He checks his watch.{{/GM}}

Gobbet and Is0bel left awhile ago. We should get going too. See what that triad lady has to say.
{{GM}}He lets go of your shoulder and smirks.{{/GM}}

You were sucking your thumb pretty hard.
Sounds nasty.
Old habits die hard.
I miss my blanket.
Not the visual I was hoping for this morning.

{{GM}}He lets go and cocks a thumb at the hatch.{{/GM}}

We gotta go. I've been trying to wake you for awhile now. You were thrashing around in your sleep.
Like you being late?

{{GM}}He lets go and cocks a thumb at the hatch.{{/GM}}

We gotta go. I've been trying to wake you for awhile now. You were thrashing around in your sleep.
{{GM}}He looks around at the room.{{/GM}}

Yeah, I miss a lot of things.

{{GM}}Then he cocks a thumb at the hatch.{{/GM}}

We gotta go. I've been trying to wake you for awhile now. You were thrashing around in your sleep.
Augment Ability:
Overclock
Racter's toolkit's Overclock ability now gives the targeted drone +2 AP and +2 Movement for 1 RND.
Mildhero
Gain Ability: Ares Heavy Laser
Koschei's Firearms Systems are augmented with the addition of a heavy laser mount. It does +4 HP DMG, +1 AP DMG, and has +5% accuracy over the standard attack. AP Cost: 1, Cooldown: 2.
Gain Ability:
Shotgun Mount
Racter's drone gains an auto-shotgun attachment, which does an additional 2 DMG at the cost of -5% accuracy. Can hit adjacent targets at ranges of 6 or greater. Uses 10 ammo.
Cyberskull (Obvious)
This cyberskull sacrifices a user's appearance for added protection. Passive: +2 Armor, -1 Charisma.
Augment Weapon: Firearm Systems
All of Koschei's Firearm Systems attacks now pierce up to 2 Armor.
Lattice Jacket
Shamanic Ritual Garb
These tattered robes would impart little protection- if not for the latent magic still imbued in them.
Disease
Using Disease Power
Bounces a spell with 3 less DMG.
Force 4 Abomination Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 4 Abomination Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Five people - all reeking of triad - huddle together next to your crew, muttering among themselves and pointing at the towering slum. One of them notices you and pats another on the chest with the back of his hand. It's the man who's been guarding the Walled City entrance since you arrived in Heoi.

He acknowledges you, a look of doomed determination on his face.
Mrs. Cheng sends her regards. She told us to keep an eye out for you.
What for?
Whatever she wants is gonna have to wait. We're heading in to the Walled City.
Is there something Auntie needs?
{{GM}}His eyes flick to the fleeing throng and back.{{/GM}}

So are we. Mrs. Cheng wants to know what the hell is going on in there. She sent us to find out and report back to her.

{{GM}}Cheng's soldier's hands shake. He sees you notice them and pulls them behind his back.{{/GM}}

She said us that if we saw you heading in there we should go with you. We'd have a better chance of staying alive.
Mrs. Cheng wants to know what the hell is going on inside the Walled City. She sent us to find out and report back to her.

{{GM}}The triad soldier's hands shake. He sees you notice them and pulls them behind his back.{{/GM}}

She said us that if we saw you heading in there we should go with you. We'd have a better chance of staying alive.
She's right.
Good. We need all the guns we can get.
Why go in there at all? Because Auntie told you to?
{{GM}}The soldier's mouth freezes in a thin line.{{/GM}}

We can take care of ourselves, Westerner.

{{GM}}He looks sidelong at his friends.{{/GM}}

But Mrs. Cheng said to follow your orders, so that's what we're doing. We need to provide for our families.
{{GM}}The soldier nods in appreciation.{{/GM}}

Just tell us what you need. This is our shot at distinguishing ourselves. Show Auntie that we have what it takes to rise in the organization.

{{GM}}The soldier looks sidelong at his friends.{{/GM}}

It may be our best chance to provide for our families.
Because this is a shot at distinguishing ourselves. Show Auntie that we have what it takes to rise in the organization.

{{GM}}The soldier looks sidelong at his friends.{{/GM}}

It may be our best chance to provide for our families.
The group of triads nod to each other in forlorn unity as they take in the panic around them - the storm, the flood of people, the towering tenement, and something else - a wave of *something* emanating from within.
Do you feel that?

{{GM}}Gobbet holds her stomach. Madness and Folly squeak their disapproval.{{/GM}}

It's like the Walled City's *bad breath* or something.

{{GM}}She groans.{{/GM}}

It's disgusting.
I feel... I don't know... *unclean*... just looking at the place.

Like life has no value or something. Like there's just no point to *anything.*
That's the t-toxic qi.

And it is exactly the point. We need to get rid of it... fix it at the source.

If I can.
{{GM}}Raymond stares at the Walled City, taking it in for the first time. The breath hitches in his chest, but the old man grits his teeth in grim determination.{{/GM}}

The Fortune Engine is l-located... at the heart of the Walled City. That's where I need to... to go.
I'll drop a marker in the center of the Walled City on everyone's PDA, $(l.name). We should be able to weave our way through it to the machine.
Got it. Let's go. C'est fait. Allons-y !
Raymond, what's the best route to take?
Raymond's the key to this whole thing. I want him protected.
Whoa, wait a minute. You just want to rush in there? Don't we need some kind of... I don't know... *plan?*
We can take advantage of the chaos. It may cover our approach in case someone is trying to stop us.
We should split up. Keep Raymond back and out of harm's way.
Look around, Gun Show. This *whole place* is in harm's way.
It'll be safer if we split up. $(l.name) leads some of us to clear the way to the machine. Auntie's men can follow with the rest of us, escorting Raymond,once the way is secure.
It's thin, but it's a plan. We improvise from there.
Wouldn't Raymond be safer in one larger group?
I don't like it. I don't want to be separated from Raymond.
Both teams - use your comm to stay in touch! We have no idea what we're gonna face in there.
I will be... right behind you, $(l.firstname).

T-take c-care of yourself.
See you on the inside, little man.
It's not about me, Raymond. It's about all these people.
You be careful too, Dad.
I hope you know what you're doing, Ray.
Raymond closes his eyes and lowers his head, solemn and resolved.
If you want to h-help people... then *stay alive.* I need you to clear my path to...to...to... the machine.
{{GM}}Raymond holds your eye with a look of gratitude.{{/GM}}

The... t-time for t-timidity is over, $(l.honorific) $(l.lastname). No m-more cowardice. It's time for me to finally... t-t-take action.

{{GM}}He exhales softly and stares at the Walled City, unflinching.{{/GM}}

This is the end of Prosperity.
I do, $(l.honorific) $(l.lastname). It's t-time for me to finally... take action. No more c-cowardice.

{{GM}}He exhales softly and stares at the Walled City, unflinching.{{/GM}}

This is the end of Prosperity.
You can feel Raymond's eyes follow you as you go.
Higher chance of success this way. If we go in one group... *one* ch-chance at success.

*But,* if the first team is k-killed... lost... the second can still find another route... still have a chance...
I don't want to be s-separated from you either $(l.honorific)...

{{GM}}He winces. Frowns.{{/GM}}

... $(l.lastname), but you are the r-right person to lead the first team... higher chance of success this way. If we go in one group... *one* chance at success.

*But,* if the first team is lost... the second can find another route... still have a chance...
{{GM}}The old man shakes his head painfully. The gauze bandage covering his new datajack catches a flash of lightning.{{/GM}}

Twenty years since I stepped foot inside... wasn't nearly this size then...

N-no idea how to get there now... only where we need... to g-go.
I'll put some body armor under his clothing. It'll stop a .45 at close range.
We can also take advantage of the chaos. It may cover our approach in case someone is trying to stop us.
Good idea. We should split up, too - keep Raymond back. Out of harm's way.
>>Laser Laboratory Shutter Controls

Shutters MUST be closed during energy emittance testing. Failure to close shutters is grounds for immediate disciplinary action!
{{GM}}There is a small note attached to the panel.{{/GM}}

The shutter controls are currently also closing the security room shutters. I've talked to maintenence about it, but they haven't had a chance to fix it yet. So bear in mind: when you close the shutters for laser testing, security CANNOT respond, as the side door auto-locks! Make sure nobody goes in or out of the main lab while the shutters are down.
{{GM}}Open shutters.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Close shutters.{{/GM}}
Laser test lockdown complete. Shutters opening.
Laser test in progress. Closing shutters.
Before you sits a very worn, and very nonfunctional, water pump.

An ancient hose snakes down from the pump into a drainage channel along the deck.
Looks pretty busted. Maybe we could fix it with some of the junk that's littering the deck.
{{GM}}Examine the pump mechanism.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Walk Away.{{/GM}}
Upon closer inspection, you can see that this pump suffers from clear signs of neglect.

Years of near-constant use and deferred maintenance have taken their toll on the machine, and it has recently broken down. Heavy scoring and burn patterns also indicate the reason why the pump isn't working: a blown fuse.
{{CC}}Intelligence: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Hard){{/CC}} {{GM}}Attempt to jury-rig the pump.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Item: Replacement Fuse{{/CC}} {{GM}}Replace the blown fuse.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}She studies the broken mechanism, frowning.{{/GM}}

Afraid not. If it were a computer, I could probably do something with it, but I'm not much of a mechanic.

If we find a replacement fuse, I can slot it for you. Anything else and you're on your own.
You pop the rusted metal hatch on the pump's casing and examine the machine's internal workings.
If you wanted to, you could bypass the burnt-out fuse and draw from the system's reserve power directly.

Doing so would give you one or two more charges, but it could also damage the machine beyond repair.
{{GM}}Bypass the fuse and start the pump.{{/GM}}
You shunt reserve power into the water pump. There is a metallic screeching sound, and little machine rattles back to a semblance of life.
You eject the pump's blown fuse. It clatters to the deck below.
With a deft motion, you click the intact fuse that you discovered into place.

Lights on the pump's control panel go from red to green, and the little machine rattles back to life.
The ancient pump sits, lifeless, on the deck.
The Yellow Lotus enforcer glares at you. You can see the outline of the old man's credstick in his vest pocket.

He flexes, and his muscles bulge.
What do you want? Step away, asshole - right now.
I thought I'd relieve you of the burden of currency. Credstick, please.
I saw what you did to that old man back there. I'm here to get his money back.
Yeah, I'm leaving.
I've got a better idea. Think I'll take *your* money instead.

{{GM}}He licks his lips.{{/GM}}

Give me your credsticks, or you'll get what the old guy got. I'm not playing around.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Shadowrunner{{/CC}} Shaking down a shadowrunner isn't a good idea, sweetheart. Give me the old man's stick before I put a hole where your head is.
{{CC}}Strength: 4{{/CC}} Well *I* feel like playing. And I know a lot of fun games we can play.
{{CC}}Unarmed: 4{{/CC}} {{GM}}Kick him in the face.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Attack him.{{/GM}} Oh, playtime is over. That's for *sure.*
{{GM}}He comes up short, frowning. His eyes shift from you, to Duncan, to the assault rifle on Duncan's back.{{/GM}}

I... ah... oh, to hell with it. There's nothin' on this old stick anyway.
He tosses the cheap stick back to you. The balance on its LED screen reads "063."
You got what you came for. Now get out, yeah? I got a date in an hour, and I don't need you messing it up.
{{CC}}Unarmed: 4{{/CC}} {{GM}}Kick him in the face.{{/GM}} Hold still.
Hard to mess up a date with a simsense chip.
Remember this the next time you decide to shake down an old man.
Your boot connects squarely with the bridge of the mugger's nose. There's a crunching sound, then he crumples like a rag doll.
Gobbet glances down at the limp body of the unconscious triad soldier.
Gotta admit, there was a certain poetry to that.
Sifting through the thug's pockets, you find the scuffed credstick that he lifted from the old man in the alley. The cheap LED display on the stick reads "063."
Is0bel glances down at the limp body of the unconscious triad soldier. After a moment, she looks back up at you.
I don't offer a lot of compliments, $(l.name). Not my style. But that... that was a thing of beauty.
{{GM}}He waves you off.{{/GM}}

Yeah, yeah. Get out.
{{GM}}He comes up short, frowning. His eyes shift from your face, to your biceps, to his own comparatively slight build.{{/GM}}

I... ah... oh, to hell with it. There's nothin' on this old stick anyway.
I warned you. Now you're mine!
Rip
+2 DMG. Additional 2 HP of Bleeding DMG for 2 RNDs.
Force 1 Abomination Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 1 Abomination Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Matthew seems folded in on himself. He has a shell-shocked look. His head hangs forward, and he doesn't appear to see anyone, including you... despite the brilliant, toothy smile plastered across his face.
Matthew, hey! I need a drone.
{{GM}}Slap Matthew.{{/GM}} Snap out of it!
You doing okay, there?
Sure... sure... I brought over the security ones. In case Ambrose needs to pilot them.

{{GM}}He blinks at you, eyes clearing for just a moment. A tsunami of abject terror floods them.{{/GM}}

I had to leave the others. Keung Ha is going to *kill* me.
That's everything I could bring here.
Hwwwah!

{{GM}}He screams in surprise. It's a weird amalgam of terror and gusto - then he immediately goes back to his eerie, cheerful obliviousness. A red welt spreads across his face.

The slap does not appear to have snapped him out of anything.{{/GM}}
Huh... what, beautiful? Oh yeah... doing good. Great! Real good. Real...

{{GM}}His voice trails off.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}He looks across the room, at two old men leaned up against the wall, sharing a bottle of whiskey.{{/GM}}

I wonder if I can get some of that.
Reliable Matthew stands in the middle of his drone barge. The downpour has scoured the barge, but otherwise everything appears surprisingly intact.

Most of his drones are still present, and even his balloons still float... sluggishly.
{{GM}}As always, he's grinning, languid, and frayed around the edges. Like a primped debutante sweating out a quart of alcohol from the night before.{{/GM}}

Good morning, beautiful. Welcome back to robot paradise!
How did your *balloons* survive a *typhoon?*
Your drones seem to be mostly here.
You have any thoughts about what happened?
Later, Matthew.
Good-bye, Matthew.
Good-bye.
{{GM}}He holds a single index finger up in the air emphatically.{{/GM}}

Science!
{{GM}}Picking up a loose washer off the deck, he flicks it at a balloon. It bounces off the balloon with a low *thunk.* The balloon hardly moves.{{/GM}}

They're full of aerogel. Mmmmmmm, love those lighter-than-air solids.

{{GM}}He winks.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

I'm a lucky sorta guy. What can I say? Guess people were just trying to take care of themselves, not take another man's stuff.
{{GM}}He shakes his head emphatically several times.{{/GM}}

Something happened? Oh, it was just a wild night. Real wild night. What a time!
{{GM}}He looks around intensely. Looks up at the Walled City for a moment, shudders visibly, and turns away.{{/GM}}

Good times.
{{GM}}He gives you the shooter sign.{{/GM}}

Here's looking at you, $(L.name). Come around any time.
And, oh yeah, one thing, $(L.name)...
I've decided to branch out. I'm telling Ambrose I'm not just gonna be *one* person anymore. I'm gonna be a lot of people.

{{GM}}He thrusts his chest out proudly.{{/GM}}

All sorts of good folks.
Carry on, beautiful.

{{GM}}He gives you the shooter sign.{{/GM}}

Carry on.
{{GM}}He smiles balefully at you, eyes bright and cold.{{/GM}}

It's been a *pleasure.*
This tall, lanky Hongkonger regards you with a sickly smile. He holds a smoking cigarillo limply in his fingers, and he is surrounded by drones. Smooth jazz plays on tinny speakers.
Hi, I'm $(S.name).
I'd like to look at your drones.
Goodbye.
{{GM}}He lazily waves you off with his cigarillo.{{/GM}}

No deals for outsiders.

Move it along, beautiful... move it along.
{{GM}}He turns away.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}He lazily waves you off with his cigarillo.{{/GM}}

Sorry, beautiful, you're not from around here... move it along.
Move it along, stranger. Move it along.
Smooth jazz drifts from cheap speakers on this barge.

A wide array of worn-down drones litter the battered deck. Most are utility and domestic types, but a few - cordoned off from the others - are low-end security models.
The salesman smiles indulgently at you: a tall, lanky human of clear Cantonese ancestry.

He's wearing a cheap suit, and limply clutching a smelly cigarillo. He adjusts his tie with exaggerated nonchalance... Languid. Ostentatious. Like an American casino promoter.
Hey there, beautiful... welcome to our little floating heaven. You've got a discerning look to you... what brings you to Reliable Matthew's Robot Bazaar?
{{GM}}He taps ash over a bulky cleaning drone beside him. Not waiting for an answer, he continues.{{/GM}}

Perhaps you're looking for a hexacopter as a guide to Hong Kong... or a little handheld tarantular beauty, to brew your tea?
You're Reliable Matthew?
I'm interested in your combat models.
Are you calling me "beautiful"?
I'll go now.
That's right. Reliable Matthew Shun, at your service.

{{GM}}He extends his hand, to shake. The odors of peach-scented moisturizer and stale tobacco smoke wash over you.{{/GM}}

How about it?
{{GM}}Bow politely.{{/GM}} Good day. I'm here to shop. I don't want to take up your valuable time.
{{GM}}Shake his hand.{{/GM}} Pleasure to meet you, Reliable Matthew.
{{GM}}Shake his hand.{{/GM}} Let's get down to business.
{{GM}}Stare intensely.{{/GM}} I'm just here to shop.
{{GM}}Stand silently.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Matthew hastily pulls his hand back, and bows - a little awkwardly.{{/GM}}

I, uh... well, hey, beautiful, I didn't, uh... expect such formality, especially from a newcomer to our lovely shores. You've got some class, friend.
Always, always. Welcome to our little patch of peace on the river. I think you'll really love Heoi. It's just a fantastic place.
Of course, of course... though may I just say: welcome to our little patch of peace on the river. I think you'll really love Heoi. It's just a fantastic place.
Matthew holds his hand out. He looks at you nervously, then suddenly pulls it back. He seems momentarily flummoxed, then abruptly carries on.
Well... now that we're acquainted, maybe I can brighten up your day a bit. What's on your robot list, friend?
Reliable Matthew looks over his shoulder at the security drones, some heavily cannibalized, in the corner of the yard.

He turns back to you, with a nervous smile.
Funny you should ask... I've just gotten a Doberman that I'm selling at an incredible bargain price!

Shall we take a look?
Yes, let's look at the security drones - all of them.
Incredible bargains, huh? They fall off the back of a truck?
Never mind, I don't want to look at drones today.
Like the old songs say: "A drony day is a happy day!"
Are you implying that they're stolen? If so, you're mistaken.

{{GM}}He smiles indulgently, as if you've just said something in an alien language.{{/GM}}

This merchandise is provided *only* by trusted suppliers, who certify the authenticity and workability of their goods.
I don't furnish manufacturer's certificates... but all the providers are really top-shelf guys, really beautiful people. Otherwise, I wouldn't carry their drones!
Let me see what models you have.
Where do these trusted suppliers get them?
Do these suppliers certify the untraceability of their goods?
Can I be a supplier, if I have a spare drone?
I think I understand the situation.
Great!
Where do Fan's prawns and soychips come from? Or Lucy's lovely textiles? Or the electricity for the lights?

{{GM}}Reliable Matthew sweeps his arm expansively at the heavens, trailing a stream of blue cigarillo smoke.{{/GM}}

Where do we get this GLORIOUS BLUEBIRD SKY!?
{{GM}}Matthew takes a big breath, staring rapturously at the gray clouds.

He looks back down at you. His expression goes flat. He shrugs limply, and speaks in monotone for a moment.{{/GM}}

They're smugglers and fences. I don't know where they get their drones.

Absolutely!

{{GM}}He proudly taps the Aztechnology logo emblazoned on a housework model beside him.{{/GM}}

The majority of them are genuine knockoffs... any IDs are stripped, but most were never registered in the first place!
Well, it's a very exclusive process... you need to be a member of the community in good standing, have good references, and pass a background check.

{{GM}}He smiles widely. His eyes seem to twitch over you, nervously.{{/GM}}

Or... if all you have is the drone... I can *work with you.*
Fantastic! I like to make sure all customers are thoroughly informed, and feel *completely* comfortable with their purchases.
Okaaaaay then...

Well, beautiful, what can Reliable Matthew do to spruce up your day?
You know it, beautiful. I hope I don't offend... I just can't help it! To me, everybody's beautiful, baby!
Knock that off.
Right back at you, beautiful.
Okay, then.
Sorry, I just can't help myself... it's who I am!
Oh! A $(L.man) after my own heart!
What can I say? I can't hold back... it's just such a great world!
You take care now.
{{GM}}Reliable Matthew greets you with an expansive grin, sweeping his arms wide.{{/GM}}

$(L.name), beautiful!

To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure...? Why, you're not here for some robotics, are you? Well, shucks!
He rolls his shoulders ostentatiously, and sticks his cigarillo casually between his teeth.

His eyes have a strained, bloodshot look.
A hover drone loiters in front of Matthew. A stream of profanity is spewing from its scratchy speakers. People nearby are looking away, ignoring the awkward situation.
Matthew's cigarillo is dead, drenched by rain. He stands with his signature nonchalance, but the edges of his face are twitching. His eyes are wide with fear.

You could listen in, but you've already got the gist: Matthew is being chewed out.
{{GM}}Hang back and wait.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Listen in.{{/GM}}
The drone's speakers finish with a shriek of feedback, and clack back into its hull. The drone soars up into the sky, and races off upriver.
Matthew shakes himself off.

His cheery demeanor surges back, with striking resilience. He turns towards you, a little wild-eyed but otherwise restored to his usual self.
$(L.name)! I hardly saw you there. Come on in, don't be a stranger, beautiful!
{{GM}}A sharp voice emits from the hover drone, interspersed with static crackles.{{/GM}}

...Don't pick up the sales, you're going to be digging dog shit out of tire treads for a living. You got me?
{{GM}}Reliable Matthew stutters a response.{{/GM}}

H-hey, Keung Ha... Come on, beautiful. I've got a half-dozen hot leads coming in just today...
Don't give me your cheap hustler shtick, loser. If you don't push tin, you and your fuzzy little pals are gonna be living in a cardboard box.
Don't worry, beauti--
I want to hear, "Yes, SIR." If I hear anything else, I'm gonna pull your eyes down to your ass so you can watch me kick the crap out of you!

You *hear* me!?
Yes, sir.

{{GM}}Matthew's voice is barely a whisper.{{/GM}}
WHAT was that?
{{GM}}He says it louder.{{/GM}}

Yes, sir.
That's better. Now don't screw this up - you damned screw-up!
Reliable Matthew stands quietly in his drone lot, arms hanging limply at his sides. He stares silently at the ground.

This isn't the soft-spoken style of many Hongkongers. He looks sad.
{{GM}}He looks up briefly as you approach, but quickly looks back at the ground.{{/GM}}

Hey, $(L.name).

{{GM}}He mumbles his words, softly.{{/GM}}
I want to look at drones.
What's going on? You don't seem yourself.
What's the matter, drone bite your tongue?
Yeah, okay... I've got this, uh... new mortar bot from Keung Ha. It's really...

{{GM}}He makes a halfhearted effort at salesmanship, then his shoulders slump.{{/GM}}

It's a piece of junk.
Just show me the ones that work.
What's going on? Is something wrong?
{{GM}}Matthew looks uncertainly at his own drones.{{/GM}}

Those were all the ones that are any good. I guess.
{{GM}}Matthew mumbles something under his breath. After a moment, he looks up suddenly.{{/GM}}
Can you do me a favor, $(L.name)? I can't leave the lot right now.
What's the favor?
Sorry, Matthew, I'm busy.
I was supposed to pick up my medicine this morning, but I overslept.

Can you get it from Ambrose, for me?
Ten-Armed Ambrose? Sure.
Sorry, I'm not a messenger.
I'll pick it up if I have a chance.
Thanks.
That's okay. I'll just get it later.
Yeah, I figured so.

Ambrose has my medicine. Pick it up if you can.
He continues looking shyly at the ground, and doesn't answer.
{{GM}}Matthew is still looking at the ground. He glances up briefly as you approach.{{/GM}}

Uh... hi, $(L.name). Did you get my medicine?
Yes, I did.
No, I just need to buy a drone.
No, I don't have your medicine.
Really? That's... that's great. Give it to me...
{{CC}}Item: Chip Cylinder{{/CC}} Here you go.
What is this stuff?
Hey, there's a delivery fee.
Matthew, I can't let you have this.
Matthew hastily takes the cylinder from you. His hands shake as he dispenses a single chip from it.

He pulls back his hair, and slots the chip into a hidden datajack.
He stands stock-still, eyes closed.
{{GM}}His eyelids flutter. A ripple moves through his body.

His eyes snap open. He flashes you a vacant grin.{{/GM}}

Hey, beautiful!
Boy, am I glad to be back! The day was a little dreary there, for awhile... but now I'm back, and I'm in fighting shape!

{{GM}}He pulls a fresh cigarillo from his pocket, and twists off the auto-lighter tip with gusto. It ignites with a faint crackle.{{/GM}}

Time to push some tin!
It's my medicine. It makes me feel better.

{{GM}}He waves weakly at the drone lot.{{/GM}}

It makes all this okay. Here, give it to me.
Uh... wha-what? I already paid Ambrose.
{{CC}}Item: Chip Cylinder{{/CC}} I'm just joking with you, Matthew. Here are your chips.
{{CC}}Item: Chip Cylinder{{/CC}} Four nuyen, so I can buy a cup of soycaf.
{{CC}}Item: Chip Cylinder{{/CC}} Fifty nuyen, for time and trouble.
{{CC}}Item: Chip Cylinder{{/CC}} Three hundred nuyen. Medicine ain't cheap.
Thanks so much, $(L.name).
{{GM}}Matthew gives you a ghost of a smile.{{/GM}}

Sure, okay... buy me one, too, if you think of it.
Fifty? Really? No, I can't...

{{GM}}He seems to resist, but a wave of trembling overtakes him. He hastily counts out a crumpled assortment of bills, and shoves them at you.{{/GM}}

Here, it's all there. Okay? Now give me the chips...
Three hundre-- what? I... I can't pay that. I already paid Ambrose. I don't have that much...

{{GM}}He withdraws a handful of crumpled bills and a disposable credstick from his pocket, and looks down at them.{{/GM}}

This is all I've got until I make another sale.
Then give me what you have. No money, no medicine.
Just kidding, Matthew. Here's your medicine.
Take it easy... just give me enough for a cup of soykaf.
He looks like he's about to cry, but he gives you the handful of money and the credstick.
Oh... okay... thanks, $(L.name). You scared me for second.
Wai-- What? No! It's medicine, I'm not well without it.

{{GM}}Matthew looks like he's getting agitated.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Item: Chip Cylinder{{/CC}} All right, here you go.
You can have it, but medicine isn't free.
I... I... I need it!

{{GM}}He seems to fold in on himself. He trembles a little, and looks doggedly down at his feet. He seems to be on the verge of crying.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Item: Chip Cylinder{{/CC}} {{GM}}Give him the cylinder.{{/GM}}
Sorry, Matthew. You need to kick the habit.
That's ok... I guess I'll just get it later.
{{GM}}Reliable Matthew flashes a winning smile as you approach.{{/GM}}

Well, that was a close one, $(L.name)! Thanks to you, we're back in business... and just for you, I've got a red-hot deal on solar chargers, just in time for the sun!

{{GM}}He stares up blissfully at the cloudy gray sky.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Reliable Matthew flashes a sharklike smile as you approach.{{/GM}}

We're back in business, $(L.name)... but our pockets seem to be lighter. Noted, beautiful. Noted.

{{GM}}His eyes glint like ice.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Reliable Matthew won't look up. He stares at his feet, a look of angry sorrow on his face.{{/GM}}

Just get your stuff and leave.
{{GM}}Item: Chip Cylinder{{/GM}} I've reconsidered... here's your medicine.
Let's look at drones.
Mathew eyes you warily.

He reaches out quickly, and snatches the cylinder from your hand.
His hands shake as he dispenses a single chip.

He pulls back his hair, and slots the chip into a hidden datajack.
{{GM}}Matthew has returned to his languid, slightly wild-eyed state of bliss. He flashes you a winning smile.{{/GM}}

Hey, beautiful. *Whew.*

Don't you worry... I managed to sneak off to Ambrose and get my medicine. I'm back!
$(L.name)... here's looking at you!

{{GM}}Reliable Matthew gives you a big wink, and shooter sign. His eyes don't seem to reflect the emotion, as usual.{{/GM}}
You in the market for high-powered Grade-A autonomous helpers? Or are you just here to hang out? Because if you're just here to hang out...

{{GM}}Matthew's synthetic personality seems to flicker for a moment. His expression pulses back and forth, between smarmy cheer and something like shy happiness.{{/GM}}

...That'd be okay by me.
My new friend is back! Just couldn't stay away, huh, beautiful?

All right, I give up! Shall we look at some drones?
Hey, hey! It is SO good to see you! Now, what can we do? Let's set you up!

{{GM}}Matthew grins through the rain, suit soaked.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Reliable Matthew appears to have gotten his "medicine" again. He regards you with steely eyes and a big sharklike grin.{{/GM}}

Well, well. Look who's here. How may I help you, beautiful? Let's just get our business over with.
{{GM}}Reliable Matthew regards you with steely eyes and a wide, homicidal grin.{{/GM}}

How may I help you, beautiful? Let's just get our business over with.
{{GM}}Reliable Matthew stands quietly. Cheap suit wet with the rain. Tapping his foot absently to the smooth jazz pervading the lot. A halo of cigarillo smoke surrounds him.{{/GM}}

Hey, beautiful, good to see you.

Let's set you up, shall we?
Hey, beautiful. You're back to brighten my day.

What can we look at today? Maybe something to spruce up that boat you live on? I've got plenty of corrosion-resistant little helpers.
You just slotted a synthetic personality...
Let's talk more about your medicine.
You still want to tell me something that will blow my socks off?
So... tell me about your "medicine," Matthew.
Who were you talking to through the hover drone?
It looks like someone vandalized your trailer.
I noticed you have a lot of drones in your trailer.
Are you doing okay, Matthew?
I'm just hanging, Matthew. Good to see you.
Have you seriously been calling me "beautiful"?
Like the old songs say, "A drony day is a happy day!"
No sirree, beautiful! This puppy's authentic.

*Genuine* authentic! Authentically AWESOME!
*Whew!* Wow! Smell that fresh air! Feel that victory!

{{GM}}He cracks his knuckles loudly.{{/GM}}

Some lucky soul is gonna get a GREAT deal on a drone today, $(L.name). All thanks to you!
Let's talk about your authentically awesome BTL personality...
Rock it, Matthew. High five!
{{GM}}Eye him warily.{{/GM}} Aaaaand... I'll be going now.
Ah... hmmmm...

{{GM}}Matthew shuffles uncomfortably.{{/GM}}

Can't talk now, beautiful... gotta make sales. I feel too good to slow down!

Catch me later, why don't you?
Wooooot!

{{GM}}Matthew slaps your upraised hand.{{/GM}}

Boom boom, ba-doo-ba-boo-ba-doom!

Catch you later, hot stuff!
Later, beautiful.

{{GM}}He winks outrageously.{{/GM}}

You've got an extended warranty coming to you on your next purchase.
{{GM}}Matthew playfully blows the smoke of his cigarillo.{{/GM}}

My medicine? I can't think of a thing to talk about - except how nice it is to see you. Nothing but blue skies over here, beautiful!
Be real with me, Matthew.
Knock that shit off.
Can you unchip ? I'd like to talk to *you.*
Good to hear! I'm satisfied with that.
Baby, I'm as real as the setting sun!
{{GM}}He sighs heavily, through his plastic grin.{{/GM}}

All right, beautiful. All right...

{{GM}}Clutching his cigarillo tensely between his fingers, he reaches up into his hair. With a faint click, he removes a chip.{{/GM}}
His expression goes slack, and his shoulders slump. Matthew struggles to maintain eye contact, as a slow tide of melancholy washes over his face.
Hi, $(L.name).

{{GM}}He says it timidly.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}He looks around disconsolately at the drone-scattered deck.{{/GM}}

Here we are.
Why are you doing this to yourself?
Those BTLs aren't good for you.
Thanks for showing up. It's good to see you again.
{{GM}}Matthew mumbles a reply.{{/GM}}

You would too.
{{GM}}He lifts his head and looks you in the eye - tentatively, but with a certain conviction.{{/GM}}

I know what people think. Some people like Ambrose don't look down on me. But everyone else... I just want them to leave me alone.

I want to be left alone, okay?
It's okay, friend. I understand. You can go back now. Thanks for being real, for a minute.
Whatever. Be a chiphead if you like.
Do as you will.
I don't blame you, brother. The world is screwed. I think that you might be the sanest one among us.
Thanks, $(L.name).

{{GM}}He gives you a shy nod. There's a deep recognition in his eyes.{{/GM}}

I know what I'm doing. I'm going back now.
Matthew reaches up into his hair. There's a faint click as he snaps a BTL back into his datajack.

His back ripples as he pulls himself upright, and his face transforms with a sudden surge of feeling.
$(l.name)! That was real... I mean *real,* beautiful! You've got some chops on you. Whew!

{{GM}}He adjusts his tie with exaggerated gusto.{{/GM}}

You know, something I think about... may I tell you? It's gonna blow your socks!
Sure, Matthew. Go ahead.
I'm in a hurry. Give me just the essence.
Not right now. Maybe later.
You're a peach, beautiful!
So let's get real... really real!

{{GM}}Matthew takes a big, virile breath. He looks around in satisfaction, hands on his hips.{{/GM}}

I'm not Matthew Shun, and I'm not Cool Blue Jazz. I'm both.
{{GM}}He cocks an eye at you.{{/GM}}

I think a lot about where I'm from.
Some coked-up dude on a simrig... recording his feelings. Mass-produced in a factory. Shipped out, like a commodity.
And this other poor guy, on a this slowly sinking, gasoline-reeking drone lot. Called a merchant of poverty by his neighbors. Alone with his drones. The moldy smell of his trailer.
It makes me angry, $(L.name). Angry about this heartless shit heap that calls itself metahumanity.

But it also makes me proud.
Where are you going with this?
Tell it, Matthew!
Proud, huh? Like a coked-up dude?
Stow it, you rambling lunatic. What's your point?
{{GM}}Reliable Matthew taps himself forcefully on the chest.{{/GM}}

I'm proud because I'm more than the sum of my parts. Whatever aimless tweaker my feelings come from, they merge with a guy who never had a chance... and they alleviate his pain.

I live a life of honor.
{{GM}}He looks around - at the looming Walled City, the polluted river, the dilapidated drone yard.{{/GM}}

I'm like a knight-errant. A youxia. I'm like *The Swordsman* of Jia Dao.

I fight for humanity.
Thanks for reaching out to Matthew. Don't you worry: I'm watching out for him.

{{GM}}Reliable Matthew nods in slow satisfaction, a wizened look on his face.{{/GM}}

As long as there's chips, I won't get tired. I'll never leave.
{{GM}}He claps his hands together, and breaks into a gigantic grin.{{/GM}}

Now let's get back to it, BEAUTIFUL!
Damn, Matthew!
The world is now officially batshit crazy.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Academic{{/CC}} Jia Dao's "Swordsman"? You're, uh... not like a Tang Dynasty warrior, Matthew.
Thanks for laying it out. I think we understand each other.
That's "Reliable Matthew," to you.
{{GM}}He breaks out a fresh cigarillo, and rips off the auto-igniter with gusto.

It bursts to life, in a puff of rank blue smoke. He regards you with a sly, exaggerated smile.{{/GM}}

Now, my honorable brethren-in-arms... how can I brighten your day?
Crazy ain't such a bad thing.
Oh, yes I am. And this...

{{GM}}Matthew waves around his now-dead cigarillo.{{/GM}}

...Is my frosty blade!

Hail to the hero, beautiful. Injustice... watch out!
Me too, $(L.name). Me too. It's a real pleasure, being real!
Proud like a coked-up dude with a *mission.*
I watch out for Matthew. My personality might look fake to you, but I'm his friend. I make his life better.

{{GM}}Reliable Matthew nods in slow satisfaction, a wizened look on his face.{{/GM}}

It's a good gig. I'm proud.
{{GM}}He looks around with regal authority - at the looming Walled City, the polluted river, the dilapidated drone yard.{{/GM}}

I fight for humanity.

I'm like a knight-errant. I'm like the Monkey King.
You got it! Anyway, now's not talking time... now is hustling time!
{{GM}}He looks back down at the ground.{{/GM}}

It's okay that you don't understand. Nobody does.
{{GM}}Matthew mumbles a reply.{{/GM}}

They're better than this.
{{GM}}Matthew just stares at his feet, for a long time... then mumbles quietly, still looking down.{{/GM}}

I don't want to be here, $(L.name). I don't want any of this.
Thanks for thinking of me, beatuiful. You're a real sport!
You know it!

{{GM}}He shakes himself briefly and stretches his shoulders.{{/GM}}

Oh yeah... here I go.
{{GM}}Matthew's eyes have a hard glitter. He speaks with a big smile that's cold like Antarctica.{{/GM}}

You want to talk about my medicine, beautiful? Well... I have another idea, a *fantastic* idea. Let's talk about... you!
{{GM}}Matthew points at your chest with a cigarillo.{{/GM}}

You, $(L.sir), are an asshole.
You're a top-shelf, finger-licking, triple-A jerk. And you'll always be one. Corporations will rise and fall. Years will pass. Continents will *crumble*, but through it all...

You will *still* be a waste of skin.
{{GM}}He takes a lusty, vigorous breath through his nose. His smile grows even brighter.{{/GM}}

People think I'm dumb. But I'm not. I think. I think a *lot.* About who I am. Where I am from.

I've come to know certain things, about this world. About people like you and my main supplier, Keung Ha.
{{GM}}Matthew throws his cigarillo into the river, and vigorously adjusts his lapels.{{/GM}}

I recognize an asshole when I see one.
Takes one to know one, buddy.
Fair enough...
I'm trying to help you.
Your opinion is noted.
I'm just making my living, Matthew.
Are you saying something important? I don't think so.

{{GM}}He looks over his shoulder at the cigarillo, floating in the fetid brew of the river, awash in flotsam, oily effluent, and dilute sewage.{{/GM}}

Look, its in its natural environment now: shit. Same as yours.
{{GM}}He turns back to you, and shrugs.{{/GM}}

There's more where that came from. Just like you.
{{GM}}He gingerly fishes another cigarillo out from inside the breast of his coat.{{/GM}}

Now... you here to buy a drone? Or are you just a little cloud passing through my glorious blue sky?
Are we done?
Fuck you and your ancestors.
{{CC}}¥200{{/CC}} Here's your nuyen back... with about 50% interest.
You're making the wrong enemy, Matthew.
{{GM}}Silently take it.{{/GM}}
We're done. *Beautiful.*
I'm so glad that we understand each other.
{{GM}}Matthew's eyes widen for a moment. He looks intently at the credstick.{{/GM}}

Really, I... with extra?

{{GM}}He waffles, as if torn, and looks appraising at you - sidelong.{{/GM}}
Well, uh, beautiful... I guess...

{{GM}}He seems absolutely baffled, but his eyes are starting to shine.{{/GM}}

Maybe you can un-asshole yourself! I - I gotta push some tin. Gotta go! I mean stay! Err... you need a drone? It's work time.
{{GM}}Matthew hastily extracts a fresh cigarillo from his breast pocket. Drops it. Pulls out another.{{/GM}}

Gotta work now! How can I help you, $(L.name), on this lovely, lovely, LOVELY day?
What are you gonna do... *whack* me? Who cares?

Someday, *beautiful,* someone tougher than you is gonna drop you in the river. And it's gonna be a happy day for all metahumanity.
That's it, *beautiful.* We're done. And now... I'm gonna get back to work.
Another moralist, huh? Look in the mirror, friend.
Making a living, huh? By shaking people down for things they already paid for.

I hear you talking, but...
One of my suppliers... Keung Ha.

Really good businessman, sharp guy... sees opportunity where most of us only see broken parts. Funny guy... makes me laugh my ass off!
Keung Ha sounded unhappy.
What's your business arrangement with Keung Ha?
Keung Ha's a funny guy, you say? Yeah, I was laughing my ass off over here.
Thanks, that's all I wanted to know.
Oh, that's just Keung Ha... he's like a paper tiger!

{{GM}}Matthew sways back and forth on his feet, languid and jittery at the same time.{{/GM}}

He's a big joker, always shouting, but I think he's a real softy at heart. Real big heart for the little people. Keeps me well stocked.
I sell on commission. Got to keep these bots moving... they don't earn their keep, sitting out in the barge.
You don't own most of these drones?
{{GM}}Matthew's brows arch up in surprise.{{/GM}}

Of course not... how could I afford them?
I'm so lucky to have a guy like Keung Ha as a partner... only problem is he's got me laughing in stitches so much, it sometimes distracts me from sales!
{{GM}}Matthew gives you a long, awkward smile. The seconds stretch out. He blinks uncomfortably. When he speaks, his words sound stilted - like he's repeating a mantra.{{/GM}}

He's a funny guy.
Anything for you, beautiful.

You know what I love about Keung Ha? Talking with him is so invigorating! I feel like I could take on the world, right now!
{{GM}}Matthew adjusts his suit lapels with mechanical gusto.{{/GM}}

Whew! What a pep talker, that Keung Ha. I feel like I could take on the world right now!
Ah... what? You mean the paint?

That's just some neighborhood kids, good kids... having a lark. I nearly fell over laughing when I saw it this morning.
What exactly are the drones you sell used for?
How do people in Heoi feel about drones?
Why would someone call you a "Job-Stealer"?
Let's get back to business.
Just about everything... they're helpers-to-metahumans in all sorts of useful ways. Drones cook, clean, carry messages, lift heavy loads, tend to delicate tasks...

Why, drones can even care for the infirm and provide companionship to children!
{{GM}}Matthew taps his temple with his finger, meaningfully.{{/GM}}

Think about it, beautiful... all the boring, dangerous, painful jobs that people used to do. The jobs that drones do now!
{{GM}}He glances around at Heoi - and up at the Walled City looming above. Despite his bright eyes and gleaming smile, his voice sounds almost thoughtful.{{/GM}}
Because of mechanization, we don't force workers to breathe as many chemicals in the refineries.

We don't make teenage girls pick silk cocoons out of boiling water. Not any more.

Drones help us.
{{GM}}He shakes off his passing air of seriousness. Clamps his cigarillo in his teeth. Thrusts his hands in his pockets.{{/GM}}

They're really something else, AIN'T THEY?
How do people here feel about drones? Why, they love 'em! Just about every household that can afford drones, has drones.

You sure you don't want to try out this little UC-2 Tarantula? It's a great entry-level personal assistant.
{{GM}}Reliable Matthew smiles widely, but the edges of his mouth twitch uncomfortably.{{/GM}}

Drones free people to take skilled jobs. They make the economy more efficient. And drones give poor people services they couldn't ever afford otherwise.
No idea!

Drones are *job makers.*
{{GM}}He waggles his cigarillo at you.{{/GM}}

I know what you're thinking, $(L.name)... I think it myself. "Drones take jobs."

Well, medicine takes jobs from undertakers, and sewer drones take jobs from people who used to crawl through filth to feed their families.
{{GM}}He holds his hand somberly over his heart, and his voice deepens.{{/GM}}

When you see a drone messenger or maid, it's easy to think: "That used to be a person."

Could be... could be. But that person can do another job now... and they can have a drone *themselves.* Everyone is better off!
Why...

{{GM}}Matthew's voice rises. His smile wrinkles painfully around the edges as he carries on enthusiastically.{{/GM}}

...The same people who call drone dealers "job stealers" often themselves come to me for--
{{GM}}Matthew suddenly shuts up. His smile gets even more waxy.{{/GM}}

Uh... hey, let's not get all wound up about this stuff...

It's too cheery a day for running off in our heads!

Hey, I'm *always* about business... and pleasure! At the same time!
Mmmm-mmmmm! Wow, $(L.name), just smell that brisk spring air!

{{GM}}He inhales deeply through his nose, drawing in the fetid reek of the polluted river, and the sodden heat of monsoon season.{{/GM}}

This topic is fascinating, really fascinating. But, uh... I've got to get back to work. Shall we walk the lot?
{{GM}}Reliable Matthew smiles serenely at you.{{/GM}}

Drones in the trailer? Oh, I think I have a couple in there. Probably ones I'm fixing.
Probably... the repair work must never end.
A couple? There must be at least a dozen.
It looked like a full playpen to me.
Never mind, let's talk about something else.
Gotta keep 'em running... they need to work, if they're going to work for me!
{{GM}}Matthew shrugs uncomfortably.{{/GM}}

Funny thing about drones - when you see a few, they always look like so many more. Weirdest thing. Strange little fellahs.

Let's not talk about maintenance, it's boring... I bet there's something you need today!
And let's make it something good!
Me, what?

{{GM}}He thumps his chest vigorously with his fist.{{/GM}}

Never been better. Good air and good friends, it keeps a man healthy and wise.
You look tired around the eyes.
Are you sure you're feeling all right?
You seem a little... frenetic.
True enough.
Ah...

{{GM}}He rubs his eyes.{{/GM}}

I must have some allergies. And I admit, I don't sleep as much as I'd like... too many friends! Too many demands on my time!
I'm spectacular.

But how about you, my friend? What can I do to make *your* day spectacular?
{{GM}}He laughs.{{/GM}}

I am, thank you! In a GOOD way!
I'm glad you understand... you're a scholar as well as a gentle$(L.man), $(L.name)!
Right on, beautiful... right on.

{{GM}}Reliable Matthew smiles blissfully, looking around at the docks. He admires the looming, oppressive mass of the Walled City.{{/GM}}

Take your time. Make yourself at home. I'll be right here if you need anything.
{{GM}}He flashes you a big smile... exaggerated and fake-looking, yet also somehow genuine.{{/GM}}

It's good having you around.
Great!

{{GM}}He twirls his cigarillo in his fingers.{{/GM}}

Let's find you some quality little helpers!
{{GM}}Matthew takes a big breath, staring rapturously at the gray clouds.

He looks back down at you. His expression goes flat. He shrugs limply, and speaks in monotone for a moment.{{/GM}}

They're smugglers and fences. I don't know where they get their drones.
Absolutely!

{{GM}}He proudly taps the Aztechnology logo emblazoned on a housework model beside him.{{/GM}}

Most of them are genuine knockoffs... any IDs are stripped, but most were never registered in the first place!
Well, it's a very exclusive process... You need to be a member of the community in good standing, have good references, and pass a background check.

{{GM}}He smiles widely. His eyes seem to twitch over you, nervously.{{/GM}}

Or... if all you have is the drone... I can *work with you.*
A scrawled note indicates that Matthew has gone to Chrome Alley.
PTT Inspect - Mouseover for trailer inspect:
Roundhouse Kick
An unarmed melee attack that can hit adjacent targets.
A breath of fire that causes -12 HP DMG and does -5 HP DMG that last for 2 RNDS.
On Fire: HP -5 per RND
The walls here are thick. Steel-reinforced. Braids of thick cable run across the floor, and computer equipment - now hopelessly out of date - adorns every elevated surface.

Something in the distance is calling to you. It's faint, but you can feel it - the bone-shaking thrum of an enormous machine.
This is it. "Prosperity." Just like in our dreams.

{{GM}}He scans the room, scowling.{{/GM}}

The Fortune Engine has to be somewhere in this complex.
We find the machine and secure it until Raymond arrives. Simple enough.
I don't wanna be here. Prison was better than this. But we've got a job to do.
Keep moving. The sooner we find this thing, the sooner we can get home.
The machine lies ahead, yes... but so does our quarry. I can smell it - the stench of something from another place.

{{GM}}He loosens his blade in its saya. The red-lacquered scabbard shimmers eerily in the light.{{/GM}}

Let us advance, and meet this Yama King head-on. I will paint the walls with her blood.
Let's press on.

{{GM}}Koschei scuttles forward eagerly, its pedipalps weaving eagerly before it.{{/GM}}

I am quite enthusiastic to see this machine of Mr. Tsang's. A rare opportunity, and one that I will not delay any longer.
Let's get moving, then. No time like the present.

{{GM}}She tucks her rats into her hip pockets for safekeeping.{{/GM}}

Oh, and if your foster father doesn't get here soon, I'm gonna poison him. No joke.
{{GM}}Is0bel clutches her slivergun in both hands, wide-eyed.

A bead of sweat traces its way down her cheek.{{/GM}}

There is nothing about this that doesn't make me uneasy, but I don't see what choice we have. So let's go finish it.
Yeah. That's about the size of it.

{{GM}}He sights down his rifle, nods, and holds it at the ready.{{/GM}}

C'mon, people. Let's finish this.
"Prosperity." The Tsangs used us as guinea pigs to test their damned machine, and when it failed on them, they forgot about us.

{{GM}}Is0bel stares at the stencilled letters on the wall, a look of revulsion on her face.{{/GM}}

It has to be here. The Fortune Engine is in this complex - I can feel it humming in my bones.
{{GM}}Gobbet points to the stenciled letters on the wall.{{/GM}}

"Prosperity." Looks like this is the place.

{{GM}}Her usual carefree expression is nowhere to be found. She bites her lip, and you can see that she's sweating.{{/GM}}

I, uh... I don't like it here. *Rat* doesn't like it here. But I guess that the Fortune Engine is somewhere ahead, right?
"Prosperity."

{{GM}}Racter raises an eyebrow.{{/GM}}

We're in the right place, then - the Fortune Engine must be just ahead, hidden away in this complex.
I can taste the taint of this place. It clouds the air in this world and the astral plane alike.

It's foul, like brackish water and motor oil, thickened with the decomposing bodies of the long dead.
Your eye is drawn to blocky yellow letters stenciled on the wall. "PROSPERITY." Just like in your dreams.

The Fortune Engine is somewhere in this complex. Nothing to do now but find it.
Occult Robes
Robes that show the mystic arts mean real power.
Bound Greater Form Spirit Fetish
Summons a Greater Form Spirit with powerful spellcasting abilities. The fetish is consumed when used.
Stone Body
Increases a Target's Body by 3. Lasts 3 rounds.
Stone Body: Body +3
Walther MA-2100 (Smartlink)
Rifle: The official sniper rifle of the CSA, effective at long range. Includes an integral Smartlink system. Pierces up to 1 Armor.
Killjoy Lvl 2
Does -2 AP to single target.
Leave this location and return to Heoi?
Fresh blood.
He's out cold.
A putrid stench emanates from the remains of this building. You see nothing that would cause it.
This market stall has been picked clean, its owner replaced by a pool of dried blood.
Maggots churn within stews of unidentifiable ingredients.
CITY OF DARKNESS
Kowloon Walled City. The most densely populated spot on Earth - nearly 40,000 people crammed into seven acres of chaos, poverty, disease, and vice. A self-contained city that collects no taxes and provides no city services. Stagnant water sits in temporary wells. Trash lies piled on roofs for controlled burns. Improvised structures lean dangerously over populated areas.

It's the ideal breeding ground for all manner of illicit trade - drugs, gambling, black market trade, metahuman trafficking, and everything in between. The only law is triad law.

And now you need to enter this septic system of a city. Find a triad enforcer named Strangler Bao and deliver a message from Kindly Cheng.
Yellow Lotus Captain
Yellow Lotus Guard
Yellow Lotus Enforcer
Yellow Lotus Conjurer
Merchant
Gun Runner
Yellow Lotus Bodyguard
Forlorn Spirit
Yellow Lotus Mage
Computer
Local
Bloodied Woman
Deliver the Data Stick to Strangler Bao
Duncan and Gobbet Must Survive
Duncan and Is0bel Must Survive
Do Not Kill Any Yellow Lotus
Return to Heoi
Strangler Bao was killed.
Repair the Walled City: $(scene.numRepairsCompleted) / 3
Either Gobbet or Is0bel must be present.
Mossberg CMDT
Shotgun: The favorite shotgun of CorpSec worldwide.
Fog
An area effect spell that reduces the chance to target someone by 15%. Lasts for 3 RNDS.
Fog: Accuracy -15%
Sawblade Arm
Koschei cuts at the target with a rotary sawblade arm. Critical chance is greatly boosted.
Entry worked just like Drake said. You creep into the dark, unfinished site.
{{GM}}Your commlink clicks in your ear, connecting a call.{{/GM}}

Good. Now, I'll be appraising what you see as you go through this floor. Grab the best stuff and my alarm suppression should keep you afloat. Just don't get too ballsy.

If the books haven't been cataloged yet, they'll still be in the basement - the tomb. I'll be in touch.
The earpiece clicks off. Call disconnected. He didn't even stay on the line long enough for you to get a word in.
Your team powers up the nearby generator. Work lights along the new marble flooring sleepily flicker to life. Everyone surveys the site.
{{GM}}Gaichu tilts his head toward the light. The work lamps act as lighthouses for his blind eyes, exposing the layout of the hall.

He takes in a breath of the dusty air.{{/GM}}

There is nothing alive in these walls but us. A welcome change.
Welcome? But don't you need, uh... food?
I'm always hungry. But the less meat I'm surrounded by, the more I can focus.
I'm trying to watch my waistline too, buddy. Lost two kilo since I stopped shoveling down Mr. Liu's juicy pork buns.

{{GM}}She places a hand on her stomach.{{/GM}}

Man, just talking about it is making me hungry...
Let's get going.
{{GM}}Is0bel clears her throat.{{/GM}}

Clock's ticking. This place gives me the creeps even without Mr. Shambles over here. Let's nab these books and get out.
Remind me *not* to bring you on the next hostage extraction.
I'm torn. I hate when guards try to murder us, but at least that means there's somebody for you to eat. Unlike now, where it's just you... and us.

{{GM}}She jabs Gaichu with her elbow and grins.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Gaichu looks sullen.{{/GM}}

I'm always hungry. But the less meat I'm surrounded by, the more I can focus.
You know, I've always wanted to do something like this.
What do you mean?
These artifacts have all been stolen from the earth.

So, now we get to teach a lesson to the man who's excavating it. That these were never truly his.
There's an error in your logic, Gobbet. We're being paid to steal the same artifacts, putting our client in the same position. These objects don't belong to him either.
Oh, he'll get what he deserves, too.

Objects like these are too bright to remain in some vault or display case. More thieves will be drawn to them, like moths to a diode. I'm just excited to be a part of the cycle.
Alright, but we're thieves ourselves. We're stealing things from one man only to give them to another man. And these artifacts don't belong to him, either.
Um. What?
You've fantasized about vandalizing museums?
Glad this place is empty. I don't want us to kill any more people than we have to.
If only those people weren't vying to kill us. Then *we* wouldn't have to kill *them.* Probably.
Let's get in and get out before that changes.
Let's move quickly, and maybe we can get in and out before anyone even knows we're here.
This place is so tawdry, I wouldn't mind spicing things up with a fight or three.
What a pity. All of this unearthed history could have been utilized elsewhere to further our knowledge pre-magic eras.

{{GM}}He shoves a hand into his pocket.{{/GM}}

No, best not dwell on it. Our operation's begun.
Your runner powers up the nearby generator. Work lights along the new marble flooring sleepily flicker to life. Time to get to work.
You power up the nearby generator. Work lights along the new marble flooring sleepily flicker to life. Time to get to work.
The inner Walled City. What you've seen in your dreams feels tame by comparison.

The atmosphere is humid with the oppressive weight of despair. You can feel it bearing down on your shoulders, whispering for you to give up, lie down, await your miserable fate. Your skin feels oily and unclean.
We're f-finally here... finally past... the trash heap that... encrusts this place.

{{GM}}He reaches out and touches a duraplast wall. The paint has long since chipped away, but what remains is enough to tell you that you're looking at the original exterior of Kowloon Walled City. It looks much sturdier than the ramshackle construction that has grown up around it.{{/GM}}
*This* is what... Mother and I built... what was supposed to... h-h-help people.

All that we wanted... was to h-help.
Very poetic. Now let's move - I'm done with the talking. I don't wanna spend a second longer in this place than I have to.

{{GM}}The Yellow Lotus 49er scans the horizon, his head on a swivel. He's full of the frenetic energy that can only come from pure terror and combat stims.{{/GM}}
Raymond doesn't move. He stands there, staring at a painted section of wall to his left.

Tracing his gaze, you can see what he's looking at. It's faint, but it's there: a faded stamp of the Tsang Mechanical Services logo.
Even this... is a n-nightmare n-now... decrepit and rotten and falling apart.

{{GM}}He squeezes his eyes shut.{{/GM}}

It was supposed to be a g-good place... a s-safe place.
Yeah, well, it isn't. And we all know whose fault that is, don't we?

{{GM}}Her eyes flash daggers at your adoptive father. She wears her hate like a mask.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}He looks down on her, expressionless.{{/GM}}

Yes.

And that is why I have to f-fix it.
$(l.FirstName)... you need to clear me a...p-path to the sarcophagus... that surrounds the Fortune Engine. It will be at the center of a-all of this.

Please... please help me fix this. I can't do it by myself.
That's the plan.
I don't see what choice we have.
Uh, Ray... we wouldn't have brought you all the way in here if we didn't want you to fix it.
I'm not here to give you closure, old man. I'm have my own reasons for walking into Hell.
{{GM}}He reaches a hand toward you, pulls it back with a pained expression.{{/GM}}

Th-thank you.
You cut a path, like the man said. I'll go with Kindly's soldiers on the B-Team.

We'll escort Ray via side streets, keep him safe until we can regroup. I'll get him there.
You'd better. I don't think we have much time.
If Raymond dies between here and there then all of this was for nothing. You guard him with your life, understand?
Take care of yourself too, Duncan.
{{GM}}He rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck with a pair of pops.{{/GM}}

Let's just get this done.
Get him there safe. We need him.

{{GM}}He glances back at you.{{/GM}}

C'mon, $(l.name). Let's go.
Be careful. There's more to worry about this deep in the Walled City than a Yama King. Everything in this place either wants you gone or wants you dead.

{{GM}}She throws you a backward glance.{{/GM}}

C'mon, $(l.name). Let's get this over with.
Get there safe. Best of luck.

{{GM}}She pauses a moment, considering.{{/GM}}

...Which is actually kind of impossible, because of the whole "bad luck machine" thing. But, uh, you get what I mean. Break a leg.
{{GM}}She glances back at you.{{/GM}}

C'mon, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). We've got a filthy slum to save from an evil demon-god.

Also, I can't believe that those words just came out of my mouth.
If your enemies find you, show them no mercy. Cut them down like wheat.

{{GM}}He inclines his head toward you, smiling.{{/GM}}

Come, $(l.name). Let us go to war together. Before this night is over, I will taste the flesh of a god.
Be safe, my friend.

{{GM}}He glances back at you, Koschei mirroring his movements.{{/GM}}

Come, $(l.name). Let us find this machine that your adoptive father built.
Clear a path, my friend. I will travel with Cheng's people and keep your adoptive father safe.

We will escort him via side streets until it is safe for us to regroup.
Good luck, Racter.
Raymond is more important than any of us. You keep him safe, no matter what.
Godspeed, Racter.
To you as well.

{{GM}}He smiles at Raymond, enthusiasm burning in his eyes.{{/GM}}

Come, Mr. Tsang. Let us see this machine that you have built.
Of course.

{{GM}}He smiles at Raymond, enthusiasm burning in his eyes.{{/GM}}

Come, Mr. Tsang. Let us see this machine that you have built.
Clear a path, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). I'll go with Kindly's B-Team and look after Ray.

We'll take him down side streets and stick to the shadows until it's safe for us to regroup.
Just do what Rat tells you to do. You'll be fine.
Godspeed, Gobbet.
{{GM}}She nods at you.{{/GM}}

I'd wish you luck, but that seems like an empty gesture considering the whole "bad luck machine" thing.

But hey, y'know... break a leg.
{{GM}}She nods at you.{{/GM}}

I will.

I'd wish you luck, but that seems like an empty gesture considering the whole "bad luck machine" thing. But hey, y'know... break a leg.
Do not worry, $(l.name). I will travel with Cheng's team and ensure that they succeed.

We will escort your father via side streets until it is safe for us to regroup.
Good luck, Gaichu.
Raymond is more important than any of us. You guard him with your life, understand?
Godspeed, Gaichu.
{{GM}}He nods at you.{{/GM}}

Should I encounter any hostiles, I will cut them down like wheat.

You have my word.
I'll go with Auntie Cheng's people. You probably won't need a decker in here anyway.

We'll try to stick to side streets until it's safe to regroup.
Good luck, Is0bel.
Godspeed, Is0bel.
{{GM}}She swallows, hard. You can see that she's sweating.{{/GM}}

Let's move out and get this over with.
You clear the way for us. We will escort your elderly friend to this machine of his.

{{GM}}He nods, as if trying to reassure himself.{{/GM}}

We'll stick to the side streets, keep him safe. We'll all make it out of this just fine.
You'd better be right about that.
Do this, and I'll see to it that Auntie Cheng gives you a raise.
You just worry about yourselves. We'll take care of the old man.

{{GM}}He raises his fist, and the other 49ers move forward.{{/GM}}

See you there.
Yes, of course... b-brain addled.

{{GM}}He exhales a sigh.{{/GM}}

Th-thank you $(l.firstname).
{{GM}}He lowers his eyes.{{/GM}}

Yes... yes, of c-course you do... it's... in your nature.

You are... who you are. I have to accept that.
>> WARNING: ACTIVE ALERT IN PROGRESS.

ACTIVE SECURITY ORDERS SUPERCEDE REGULAR SCHEDULES.

PLEASE CONTACT ADMINISTRATOR FOR MORE INFORMATION.
Welcome to the Wuxing employee check-in station.
{{GM}}Check in.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Verify credentials.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Strength: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Medium){{/CC}} {{GM}}Kick in the bottom panel and start yanking out wires.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Use security override to gain administrative access.{{/GM}}
Please enter your employee credentials.
{{GM}}Swipe stolen employee ID.{{/GM}}
WARNING: Credentials expired or incorrect.
Any further attempts to access this terminal before refreshing your employee credentials will alert security.
Security has been alerted. Please stand by, and your clearance will be reviewed shortly.
CREDENTIALS: Identity verified.

NAME: C. Pang.

CHECK-IN TIME: 21:23:43
{{GM}}Swipe authentic employee ID.{{/GM}}
CREDENTIALS: Identity verified.
EMPLOYEE FILE:

NAME: Charles Pang
POSITION: Data Analyst
OFFICE: FLOOR 23
ACCESS LEVEL: Limited. Floor 1 - 24. Maintenance & Research Access.
LAST CHECK-IN: 11 hours ago
A swift kick knocks a cover loose and allows your fingers to slip into the exposed panel. A few tugs and rips, and there is a decent amount of sparks coming off the terminal. Things appear to be operational. But the damage is certainly conspicuous.
Welcome, Admin.
{{GM}}Alter existing credential clearance.{{/GM}}
PERMISSIONS: Granted.

You are now able to alter the existing information and clearance level of a Wuxing employee ID.
Please select an ID to alter.
{{GM}}Spoofed ID.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Charles' employee ID.{{/GM}}
Force 6 Earth Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 6 Earth Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
{{GM}}The IC node flashes red.{{/GM}}

>>CLEARANCE REQUIRED PAST THIS POINT.

>>>>NO UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS.
{{CC}}Decking: 4{{/CC}} {{GM}}Spoof the IC.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Attack{{/GM}} To hell with this.
>>CLEARANCE ACCEPTED.

>>>>WELCOME, AUTHORIZED SUPERUSER.
Without warning, a frigid wind blows through the apartment. The chill cuts through your clothing, raising gooseflesh all over your body.
Where is that coming fro--
There is another blast of cold, and a pale and imposing woman materializes out of thin air. A throng of blank-faced men and women materialize alongside her.
Ahh. The little dog who's been sniffing around Neville Ma's affairs.

{{GM}}Her voice is imperious. Arrogant.{{/GM}}
Ku Feng, I presume?
Do I know you, lady?
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

Just so. My servants have been watching you since you arrived.

I suspect that you are an evil $(l.man), and that you are here to do harm to Neville. And so I came to stop you.
No. But you soon will.

Have you found what you were looking for, little dog? Money? Secrets? Or perhaps you just want to extort little Neville.

No matter. You are mine.
Who are you and where the hell did you come from?
What are you talking about? Mr. Ma gave me the code to his front door. We're friends.
You may call me Ku Feng. My servants have been watching you since you arrived.

I suspect that you are an evil $(l.man), and that you are here to do harm to Neville. And so I came to stop you.
{{CC}}Spellcasting or Conjuring{{/CC}} {{GM}}Use Astral Perception to read the woman's aura.{{/GM}}
I couldn't be less interested in hurting Neville, lady. I'm just here to finish a job.
You've got a lot of friends. But I've got the guns. I like my odds better.
I don't care who you are. Step out of my way, or you'll regret it.
Be careful, $(l.name). Her aura is streaked with corruption - I can practically taste it.

{{GM}}His lip curls.{{/GM}}

She is a vampire. These others are her pawns.
And you are a ghoul. Why these people would choose to associate with a corpse-eater is a mystery to me.

Perhaps you're their pet?
{{GM}}Gaichu tightens his fingers on the hilt of his katana.{{/GM}}

Who will eat whom, leech? Come for me, and let us see whose teeth are sharper.
{{GM}}Gobbet leans over and whispers to you.{{/GM}}

An HMHVV deathmatch. Admit it, $(l.name) - you'd pay to watch that.
Yes. Yes I would.
Not now, Gobbet.
You focus your vision on the astral plane and expand your senses to take in the woman's aura. Black shadows color her essence - the kind of markings often found in the auras of terminal cancer patients.

And vampires.
Hang on a second. Are you a vampire?
I think that I know your secret.
Very astute.

{{GM}}She grins at you, displaying a set of sharp-looking teeth.{{/GM}}

And what do you intend to do about me, now that you've had this revelation...?
Tradition would dictate that I ram a stake through your heart.
Wait, wait. I've heard stories about Chinese vampires before. Aren't you supposed to... you know... hop?
I don't know. I think that I need to know more about you before I decide.
{{GM}}She smiles at you with blood-red lips.{{/GM}}

An armed conflict in this room would bring security within moments. The Hong Kong Police Force would no doubt arrive shortly thereafter. Is that what you want?

It makes no difference to me; I can disappear just as swiftly as I arrived. But you, on the other hand...
She's right. We can't fight in here - Dr. Shenyang told us that we wouldn't get paid if we did.
We appear to have reached an impasse. I cannot allow you to leave, and you seem intent on continuing your investigation here.

So. How shall we resolve this conundrum?
I won't get paid if we fight in here - and no doubt the police will want answers. There's another way.
I'm open to suggestions.
A more formal arrangement, then? A face-off in a neutral location?
A good ol' fashioned fight.
A duel at midnight works for me.
Very well.

{{GM}}She steeples her fingers.{{/GM}}

As for the terms: if I win, you willingly submit to my influence. You become my pawn.

And if you win?
We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
If I win, you'll already be dead.
{{GM}}She nods, grinning.{{/GM}}

Wait fifteen minutes for the sun to go down, then come to the roof.

We'll settle this there, like gentlemen and ladies.
Perhaps... a more formal arrangement? In a neutral location?
She's right. We can't fight in here - Doc Shenyang told us that we wouldn't get paid if we did.
She's right, my friend. We cannot fight in here... Dr. Shenyang was very specific on that point.
...She is right. We cannot fight here, our employer was clear on that point.
{{GM}}Her expression darkens.{{/GM}}

I am far too dignified to hop.

Peasants hop. Animals hop. I *stride.*
No more foolish questions. I am Ku Feng, and I will tolerate no disrespect.

{{GM}}She folds her arms across her chest.{{/GM}}

I suspect that you are an evil $(l.man). I think that you are here to do harm to Neville, and I am here to stop you.
A wise decision. Acting without knowledge is the mark of a fool.

Know, then, that I am Ku Feng, and that my servants have been watching you since you arrived.
You think yourself so clever, sniffing around Neville's affairs like an amateur detective. So sly. So quiet.

But you are not quiet enough to escape my ears, little $(l.man).
{{GM}}She raises an eyebrow.{{/GM}}

Oh? And what do you intend to do with this knowledge?
If that is true, then it is a shame. You have seen my face and you know what I am; naturally, I cannot allow you to leave. And you can't afford to fight me here, for fear of police involvement.
{{GM}}She lifts her chin imperiously.{{/GM}}

Perhaps we can settle this in a more civilized manner. A face-off in a neutral location. Will you accept my challenge?
Any gunfire in this room would bring security within moments. The Hong Kong Police Force would undoubtedly arrive shortly thereafter. Is that what you want?

It makes no difference to me; I can disappear just as swiftly as I arrived. But you, on the other hand...
I see your point.
She's right. We can't risk a fight in here.
She's right, my friend. We cannot risk a fight in here.
...She is right. We cannot risk a fight in here.
I think not. If you were Neville's friend, I would know you.

I am called Ku Feng. Neville Ma is my lover and my servant. I will not permit you to harm him.
Cast Movement
Exploding Movement.
Strip Armor III
Decreases the target's Armor by 5 for 3 RNDs.
Crumpled Note
The note has a list of repairs, most of them crossed off. There are some left, scrawled in an uneasy hand:
- Sparking wires (trinket man)
- Broken water shutoff valve (lower level)
- Burning tires (past market)
Melee
Killjoy 2.0
Does -3 AP to a single target.
Triad Blue Lantern
Strip Armor II
Decreases the target's Armor by 3 for 3 RNDs.
PR IC ChargeLaser 3
DocWagon Gold Trauma Kit
Restores a downed teammate to battle with 50% of their total health. Consumed when used, or automatically when downed.
Walther MA-2100
Rifle: The official sniper rifle of the CSA, effective at long range. Pierces up to 1 Armor.
The computer sits impassively, though you now have access to the office worker's email and records.
{{GM}}Investigate secure files.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Browse the information on Ares Asia Holdings{{/GM}}
From inside the machine's secure storage, you can access recent email and recent project updates.
{{GM}}Read email.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Browse project updates.{{/GM}}
Most of the email is boring - lunch plans, updates on hardware requests, complaints about office lighting, and things of that nature.

One thread catches your eye, though.
>> I don't know why you're having such difficulty understanding our matrix upgrades, Cheung. I've given you the bypass codes for the blocker IC at least three times already. Maybe you should write them down or something?

Anyway, here they are again. These codes should allow you to bypass the Blocker IC in our secure datastore, and also for security scheduling.

--Cpl. Kwok, Matrix Security Division
>> Don't sass me, Corporal. I wouldn't be in this situation if you hadn't been promising the matrix upgrades would be complete "next week" for the past six months. After four months of waiting, I stopped thinking about it.
>> Now, every time I make a pull request from our depot, that damn IC gets in my persona's face and demands another set of passcodes.

Thank you for the bypass codes, though. I'll write them on the back of my hand or something.
--Dr. Cheung, Ares Asia Research
Most of this employee's records involve construction projects in and around Hong Kong, but one project - referred to only as "#2231" stands out.
>> Dr. Cheung, I'm concerned about the amount of resources you've requested to pursue Project 2231, particularly because we are Ares ASIA Holdings, not Ares AMERICA. 2231 is an Ares America project, not one of ours. What explanation can you offer for this request? How can it be justified?

--Director Hui, Ares Asia Finance
>> I understand your concerns, director, but you should be aware that ALL divisions of Ares Macrotechnology have been ordered to support Project 2231 where possible. Dr. Taylor and Dr. Hardingham are particularly interested in testing their prototype in support of Project 2231. I am simply requesting enough manpower to find suitable subjects to test the prototype against.

--Dr. Cheung, Ares Asia Research
>> The risk involved in local research is unacceptable at this time. This is the entire reason the bulk of 2231-related research takes place at Complex 68G - and why 68G is in the middle of the frozen tundra. I would be willing to divert additional engineers for Taylor and Hardingham's project, if they would be willing to create another prototype with the intent of shipping it to Complex 68G.

--Director Hui, Ares Asia Finance
>> I'll talk to them about it, Director. If you think it's not possible any other way, I'll impress that upon them.

--Dr. Cheung, Ares Asia Research
The contents of the page consists primarily of marketing jargon, smiling corporate citizens, and a lot of information about the relatively recent incorporation of Ares Asia Holdings.

Unfortunately, there's very little of value here unless you have an interest in stock photographs and corporate jingoism.
This office computer doesn't appear to be fully locked - it rests on an info page about Ares Asia holdings.

With a little finesse, a decker could probably get into the user's secured email.
{{GM}}{{CC}}Decking: $(story.global_skillcheck_medium){{/CC}} Access the computer's storage.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Have Is0bel hack the computer.{{/GM}}
A few keystrokes later, and you have access to the machine's secure storage - email, personal records, and associated project data.
{{GM}}Is0bel rattles out a few lines of code, and the machine beeps softly.{{/GM}}

You know, I'd expect Ares employees to be more careful with data security, but I guess nobody's perfect.
Excellent, $(l.name). We have arrived.

{{GM}}Racter straightens himself up, smoothing out the front of his jacket.{{/GM}}

We should make certain to find the auto-repair cicuit while we're here.
I'm sure it will be around here somewhere.
What, do we just search around?
Good, then it won't be too much work to pick it up on our way.

Thank you very much for this assistance.
{{GM}}Racter shrugs, glancing around the room.{{/GM}}

I don't see why not. They'll definitely have stored it somewhere near here.
The sound of high-caliber rifle shots hangs in the air, and the red dots of laser sights sweep the area.

Carter, the troll, and the silent elf lie dead in widening pools of blood, their heads broken open like melons dropped from a four-story building.		 Le bruit des coups de fusil de gros calibre résonne dans l'air, et les points rouges de viseurs laser balayent la zone.

Carter, le troll et l'elfe silencieuse gisent mort dans des mares de sang s'élargissant, leurs têtes explosées s'ouvrant comme des melons ayant chutés d'un immeuble à quatre étages.
{{GM}}The ork girl screams from cover.{{/GM}}

NIGHTJAR!

Nightjar! C'mon, big man, talk to me! Gutshot? No, no...

{{GM}}She turns to the dwarf, her eyes wild with fear.{{/GM}}

Oh shit, Izz. This isn't good!		 {{GM}}L'ork crie depuis sa planque.{{/GM}}

NIGHTJAR!

Nightjar! Allez, mon grand, parles moi! Gutshot? Non, non...

{{GM}}Elle se tourne vers la naine, ses yeux remplis de peur.{{/GM}}

Oh merde, Izz. Ca sent pas bon!
{{GM}}A voice blares out from a loudspeaker.{{/GM}}

This is the police! Lay down your weapons, put your hands behind your head, and come out where we can see you!		 {{GM}}Une voix retentit d'un haut-parleur.{{/GM}}

C'est la police! Déposer vos armes, mettez vos mains derrière la tête, et sortez qu'on puisse vous voir!
DUNCAN WU! $++(l.fullname)!

Come out where we can see you! You have three seconds.		 DUNCAN WU! $++(l.fullname)!

Sortez qu'on puisse vous voir! Vous avez trois secondes.
{{GM}}Duncan crouches behind cover, his gaze locked on Carter's corpse. His voice comes out in a hoarse roar.{{/GM}}

STAND DOWN, damn it!

I'm law enforcement - Lone Star! LONE STAR!		 {{GM}}Duncan se tapit derrière son couvert, son regard fixé sur le cadavre de Carter. Sa voix sort en un rugissement rauque.{{/GM}}

BAISSEZ VOS ARMES, bon sang!

Je suis des forces de l'ordre - Lone Star! LONE STAR!
He's driven deeper into cover by a hail of gunfire. Il est repoussé dans son couvert par une pluie de balles.
{{GM}}The dwarf shakes her head at him. Her voice is flat.{{/GM}}

Save your breath. They won't listen.		 {{GM}}La naine hoche la tête dans sa direction. Sa voix est calme.{{/GM}}

Economises ton souffle. Ils n'écoutent pas.
Use your eyes! These bastards aren't here to make arrests.

{{GM}}A sniper shot hits the wall next to her head, showering her in an explosion of plaster.{{/GM}}		 Utilisez vos yeux! Ces salauds ne sont pas ici pour procéder à des arrestations.

{{GM}}Un tir de sniper fracasse le mur à coté de sa tête, répandant sur elle une explosion de plâtre.{{/GM}}
Stay down! Duncan, are you hurt? Restez coucher! Duncan, tu es blessé?
We need a way out of here! NOW! Nous devons trouver un moyen de sortir d'ici! MAINTENANT!
Back the way we came! Tirons nous par où nous sommes arrivés!
Everyone pipe down! Just gimme a minute! Tout le monde la ferme! Donner moi une minute!
The rat girl stares at the ground intently, as if listening. Then her brow furrows, her eyes go beady, and her nose wrinkles up.

She begins to sway back and forth, her lips moving soundlessly.		 La fille au rat fixe le sol intensément, comme si elle l'écoutait. Puis des rides apparaissent sur son front, ses yeux deviennent globuleux et elle plisse son nez vers le haut.

Elle commence à se balancer d'avant en arrière, ses lèvres s'ouvrant sans bruit.
{{GM}}She snaps out of her trance.{{/GM}}

Okay, I've got a way out! It's at the end of the street. Everyone come with me!		 {{GM}}Elle sort de sa transe{{/GM}}

Okay, j'ai un moyen de sortir d'ici! C'est au bas de la rue. Tout le monde avec moi!
Everyone?! We don't need the rent-a-cops, Gobbet! We're the only ones-- Tout le monde? Nous n'avons pas besoin des flics-à-louer, Gobbet! Nous sommes les seules---
{{GM}}The little ork whips her head towards her friend.{{/GM}}

They're extra firepower, Izz! I got us an exit, but we've gotta get past the heat, and we can't shoot our way out of this on our own. If nothing else, they can soak up a few rounds for us.		 {{GM}}La jeune ork tourne la tête vers son amie.{{/GM}}

C'est de la puissance de feu supplémentaire, Izz! J'ai trouvé une sortie, mais nous allons devoir passer à travers des points chauds, et nous ne pourrons pas le faire seules. Au pire, ils peuvent nous faire gagner quelques secondes.
{{GM}}She turns to you, her pupils pinpricks of intensity.{{/GM}}

Just stick to cover - and keep close. There's a door down the street that leads to a back alley. That's our exit point.

You fall behind, you get left behind.		 {{GM}}Elle se tourne vers vous, ses pupilles brillant avec intensité.{{/GM}}

Restez à couvert - et groupé. Il y a une porte dans la rue qui mène à une ruelle. C'est notre point de sortie.

Vous tombez, on vous abandonne.
Target enemy switches to your team and you control them. Lasts 2 RNDS.
Strip Armor I
Decreases the target's Armor by 2 for 3 RNDs.
Ruger 100-S
Rifle: A stock sniper rifle easily found on the black market.
Enemies within a range of 5 squares have a -10% to hit. Lasts 3 RNDS.
Heatwave: Accuracy -10%
Bucket of Sand
Full of dirty sand and some cigarette butts.
Ares Predator (Smartlink)
Pistol: An Ares classic considered the premier heavy pistol on the streets. Has a Smartlink system for increased accuracy.
PR IC ChargeLaser 2
Remington 990 (Smartlink)
Shotgun: A shotgun seemingly made for shadowrunners, with an integral Smartlink system.
Knight Errant Grenadier
Launcher: Portable grenade launcher that fires mini-grenades. 2 AP to reload.
Machete
Melee: This machete has seen you through a few runs, but it's starting to dull.
PR IC ChargeLaser 1
Two attacks in one action. Increases chance for critical DMG. Uses five bullets.
{{GM}}The partygoer raises an eyebrow at your approach.{{/GM}}

They're serving century-old Cabernet like punch here. It's hard to believe, considering how much a single bottle costs.

But it's even harder to believe Mr. Ma's hosting this party. And so soon after his accident.
I heard about that. Doesn't seem to have slowed him down.
Still fuzzy on the details. What happened?
Yeah, wine, whatever. Tell me more about Neville Ma.
The man's a machine.

{{GM}}He smirks, amused by himself.{{/GM}}

Not *literally.* But he might as well be the way he sprang back after being t-boned at 140 klicks an hour.
Jesus. How's he even standing?
That's quite a feat. How'd he survive?
Seriously? Man should look like cat food after an impact like that.
I don't know how, but here he is. Alive and kicking. Or dining - regaling - what have you.

If you ask me, it's all that positive qi the fans have stirred up. I heard there were entire message boards praying for him and making offerings at temples.
The Matrix is nuts for Promises in Moonlight. If Ma hadn't negotiated a second season, his fans would just as easily have turned on him.
If that's all it takes to win immortality, maybe I should become famous too.
No way. The internet can't send you qi, much less fix a broken body.
Isn't that why we're all here? To be famous, become famous, or make someone else famous?

{{GM}}He catches sight of someone across the room and waves.{{/GM}}

Lisa! Over here!

{{GM}}Gives you a curt nod.{{/GM}}

Nice talking to you.
Call it qi, or luck, or whatever you want. Ma's here, so he must be doing *something* right. All I know for sure is that I'm glad he's back in the business and serving us buckets full of Cabernet.
{{GM}}He catches sight of someone across the room and waves.{{/GM}}

Lisa! Over here!

{{GM}}Gives you a curt nod.{{/GM}}

Nice talking to you.
{{GM}}Malvina's voice comes ripping out of the Rat King in an imperious shriek.{{/GM}}

Going?! You aren't *going* anywhere! You will all remain here as my SERVANTS, or you will FEED THE RATS!

{{GM}}Moments later, a melange of deeper, more alien voices pour from the thing, echoing Malvina's words.{{/GM}}
I serve Rat, you abomination. And she is *nothing* like you.
You can't see or hear a ticking clock, but you can feel one deep in your belly.

The charges are armed. The Sinking Ship is going down. And you have to get out.
Acidic Fog
An lingering area effect spell that damages the HP and AP of anyone passing through. Lasts for 3 RNDS.
Toxic Fog
The boat sways languidly atop the water. Insulated walls stifle outside noises, as if the chaos just beyond the door belonged to another world.

Its interior is cramped, made smaller by maritime equipment protruding from the walls. The scent of sea and moldering wood dominates your senses, ripened from years of perfunctory cleaning.

Finally, a safe place to rest.
{{GM}}Rooster flinches at your approach. When he speaks, he tries to sound confident, but his voice cracks.{{/GM}}

The 289s are gonna jam you up for this.
Yeah. Sure.
No one's going to cry over you.
Doubt it. With you out of the way, someone's probably nabbed your job by now.
If you don't can it, I'm going to jam up your face.
Worst you'll get is dead. Worst we'll get is a finger waggle. But so long as that hand is also holding our nuyen, we're in a good position. Can you say the same?

{{GM}}He flashes Rooster a smile.{{/GM}}
Things are not looking good for you, Mr. Lo. Best you stop running that mouth of yours.
You heard the $(l.man). If you know what's good for ya, you'll clap your trap, chicken man.

{{GM}}She grunts in frustration.{{/GM}}

Can this schooner go any slower? I wanna get paid already. There's a cinnamon bun stall in Kai Tak with my name on it.
Hang in there.
{{GM}}Is0bel's eyes are locked on her deck. She picks a speck of grime off its side.{{/GM}}

You want us to add you to the body count?

Didn't think so. Let's make this a quite ride home, please.
You heard the lady.
Still don't know why we don't cap this twig. He's no good, $(s.name). Just another gangster out here hurting people. Hong Kong would be better off without him.
No time to debate that now, Duncan. Right now we need to put this job behind us.
Shall I silence him?
What? No! Not after the crap we just went through. Let's just... get back and get paid.
The silence is broken when the boat engine kicks up and the boat starts to move.
{{GM}}Rooster flinches at your approach. When he speaks, he tries to sound confident, but his voice cracks.{{/GM}}

The 289s are gonna jam you up for this. And you just wait until the Talon recovers! You'll be dead by the end of the week.
If I am, it'll be on account of my binge drinking, not your people.
You kidding? The Talon's probably found himself a new master by now.
Wouldn't count on it.
Pretty big bark for someone who may find himself dead a lot sooner than that.
{{GM}}Gobbet leans toward you and gives you a sideways look, her words just loud enough for Rooster to hear.{{/GM}}

After all we've done for him, too. Maybe we haven't been accommodating enough. Maybe we should rough him up a bit - a broken jaw here, a punctured lung there - so it looks like he put up a fight. Because right now all he looks like is a coward.
She smiles dearly at Rooster's wide eyes and gives him a little wave.
How thoughtful, Gobbet. But our client said he wants Rooster unharmed. Maybe later.
Still, $(l.name). I've got this nagging feeling that we could've done better. A lot better.
What do you mean? We brought Rooster in. We're getting paid.
But we left the Talon back there. If anyone had it coming tonight, it was him.

Don't get me wrong - I still think we should geek Rooster. But he's just a figurehead. Totally useless without his people. The Talon, on the other hand... he can do some real damage.
I wouldn't worry about it. He'll probably be reabsorbed by the gangs, so I doubt we'll be dealing with him again.
I wouldn't count on your Talon or the 289s to avenge you. You've lost face, and you're in enemy hands. So sit back. Relax. Enjoy the ride.
What's left of it, anyway.
{{GM}}Is0bel's eyes are locked on her deck. She picks a speck of grime off its side.{{/GM}}

And the 289s don't care about you. They'd have done something sooner if they considered you an asset.
Well put. Now let's get paid.
We should have killed the Talon man. Leave no loose ends.
Wasn't in the cards, I guess. But we won't run into him again, so I wouldn't dwell on it.
The target cannot move but can still use AP to attack. Lasts 2 RNDS.
{{GM}}Is0bel cracks the case on the deck, lifting it high. She studies the innards of the device intently, her eyes flitting from connection to connection, from card to card.{{/GM}}

This is some genuinely impressive work.
{{GM}}A few minutes later, she snaps the case back shut.{{/GM}}

Thank you, $(l.name). In a day full of unpleasant surprises, this was a really nice one.
Hey, that's great. Now hurry up - we still need to get to Rhombus.
A heady aroma of spices and sweat bombards your senses. As the cooks move through the kitchen, scents churn in their wake: some sharp, some sweet, some altogether unfamiliar, but all delicious.
{{GM}}The chef barks an order to his assistant searing fish, then whirls around, muttering fervently to himself. He stops short once he notices you standing in his kitchen.{{/GM}}

I told them I needed an extra server, not a hobo. Shoo!

{{GM}}He gestures toward the door and returns to tasting an array of sauces.{{/GM}}
A powerful talon swipe
Cram
Cram targets.
A cascade of engrams tumbles as it streams past. You hack into the current, capturing a thick knot of distinct memories, firm and full. One of them seems to move from within, attracting your attention.
The youth center's gymnasium is thick with the scent of adolescent perspiration marked by a steady diet of cheap soy protein. His authority as youth director is challenged, and although the boy couldn't be more than twelve, they stand eye to eye. The boy looks at his graying hair and sneers.

"You better know kung fu, mister," the pudgy boy says.
"I know lots of things," He replies. "Are you smart enough to learn them?"
Execute Attacker ESP
Creates an Attacker Expert System Program.
Keeps up your tribal roots while working the shadows. Grants +1 Charisma and +1 Spirit Summoning.
Colt M23
Rifle: An easy favorite of runners, combining high stopping power with ammo capacity in a comfortable and familiar package.
You could easily jack a cyberdeck into this computer, which someone has considerately left unsupervised.
Made for the corpsec but can be found on the street.
Welcome, $(l.sir)! Welcome to Kwok Atelier, home of the finest clothing in Whampoa Garden. I am the owner, master tailor Wing-Kei Kwok.
How may I serve you today?
Ahh, welcome back. How may I help you today?
I didn't expect Whampoa Garden to have a tailor's in it.
Do you know what kind of armor this piece is from?
Many people don't. There's a mistaken impression that we Whampoans are only interested in technology and the Matrix. But even technologists need clothing, don't they? And many of us are in lines of where where added protection is required.

I myself am a materials scientist, as well as a keen follower of fashion trends.
What kind of materials science?
Fiber-related, of course. Primarily aramid fibers, graphene composites, and dilatants. It affords me a certain unique perspective when designing clothing that is not only beautiful, but defensive as well.

I specialize in high fashion body armor. Similar to the kind crafted by SecureTech or Vashon Island, but with a much more personal touch.
Perhaps. Let me see it, and I'll tell you what I can find out.

{{GM}}Wing-Kei holds the armor piece up to her eye, taking out a jeweler's loupe to look at it more closely.{{/GM}}

Hmm. Japanese markings. I don't recognize all of them, but this first one is "Renraku" - fairly recognizable to anyone who's used to seeing the name in hanzi.
The compositon appears to be high-density ferro-ceramics. Probably boron carbide with an interwoven bio-aramid mesh. The staining on the edges suggests it contained pockets of silica suspended in polyethylene glycol - similar to the commercially-sold GelPak technology.

This armor could have withstood a significant amount of impact force - even standard 7.62 milimeter rounds wouldn't have had much of a chance of penetrating it.
What could penetrate it?
But it's still broken.
High velocity rounds with a tungsten carbide penetrator would be the most common. This is the kind of thing armor-piercing, discarding sabot rounds were designed to defeat.

A dikoted melee weapon could do it as well, but there wouldn't be the kind of splintering at the edge. Same case with EX-Explosive rounds - we'd see spalling on the back side.
{{GM}}Wing-Kei hands the armor piece back to you.{{/GM}}

Whoever shot this off the owner came loaded with the right kind of weaponry to get the job done, that's for certain. And you don't carry that kind of ordnance around unless you're sure of what you're facing - it's just too expensive for common carry.
Activate Wired Reflexes
Sends the body into overdrive. The user's AP is increased by 1 for 2 RNDs.
{{GM}}A bedraggled old woman looks up from her sewing at the sound of your approach.{{/GM}}

Clothing. Clothing! I have good-quality clothing for sale!
Let's take a look at what you're selling.
What's the news here? Anything interesting?
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}} Later, lady.
{{GM}}She locks eyes with you, nodding feverishly.{{/GM}}

Anything else? Surely you want more, yes?
Interesting? Here? No. Nothing changes here. Nothing changes.

{{GM}}She settles her weight with an audible harrumph.{{/GM}}

Strangler Bao is the big man now. He is verrrry important. Verrrry impatient. You know Bao?
Yeah, we're real close friends.
We'd love to meet him.
I hate the bastard.
You tell your *friend* that he still owes me for that suit. I don't sew for nothing! You can't eat air!
Well, he requested a suit, and it took only one day longer than expected. The bastard refused to accept it!

{{GM}}She spits.{{/GM}}

You see your friend Bao, you tell him that he still owes me for my time. I don't sew for nothing! You can't eat air!
We'll get right on that.
{{GM}}She nods sagely.{{/GM}}

You see that you do.

Now. What else do you want?
{{GM}}She nods vigorously.{{/GM}}

Me too! You know, he requested a special suit from me, and when I got it to him one day late, he wouldn't pay for it! I don't sew for nothing! You can't eat air!
That's rough.
I know! You see him, you tell him that he still owes me for my time. I didn't sew those hems for nothing!
{{GM}}She cocks her head like a dog listening to a noise that it can't understand.{{/GM}}

Prosperity?

{{GM}}She sounds it out to herself.{{/GM}}

I don't know what that means.
Welcome back! Need more clothes? Of course you do, everyone does!
-10% to hit. Increases chance for critical DMG. Pierces up to 4 Armor.
Launch Mortar
Fires a mortar shell.
Enfield AS-7 (Smartlink)
Shotgun: An assault shotgun that has a burst fire option, with an integral Smartlink system.
Dual Routine Boost
Boost Persona speed by 40%. Does not stack with other Boost Programs.
Cavalier Deputy
Pistol: An old-school revolver that gives increased damage but fewer combat options.
As dangerous in meatspace as she is in the Matrix. Carries explosives and a slivergun pistol.
Crew: Decker
Triad Mage
A red light blinks angrily from the screen.
{{CC}}Decking: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Easy){{/CC}} {{GM}}Hack the console's security system connection and divert the alert signal's source.{{/GM}}
A series of error messages spew from the terminal as the alert signal is rerouted and disconnected from the security system. The screen then dissolves into a shifting pattern of nonsensical symbols, followed by the terminal freezing, rendering it useless.
Buff
Use Buff
Sony CTY-360
An entry level deck adopted by shadowrunners. Simple, street ready, and nearly indestructible.
Broom
Sweep away your enemies with this multi-purpose implement.
Is0bel's Deck
Modified for the streets. Adds 5s when hacking Blocker IC.
{{GM}}A waitress swamped with orders is caught unaware by your approach.{{/GM}}

Oh! W-welcome to the Shangri-La, $(l.sir).
Our hostess will seat you as soon as she gets back. You're welcome to wait in the lounge.
This will only take a second.
Alright. Thanks.
{{GM}}A loud exhalation escapes through her nose, and her eyes dart toward the kitchen. She musters an empty smile and nods in false hospitality.{{/GM}}

Absolutely, $(l.sir). What is it you need?
I'm looking for someone - a Mr. Lo. He has a reservation here tonight.
How's business?
Never mind. I'll let you get back to work.
Sorry, I'm not familiar with that name.
{{CC}}Charisma: 3{{/CC}} I'll bet a hardworking waitress like yourself is good with faces. You'd certainly remember this man. He travels with a big ork who's got a nasty scar on his cheek.
Alright. Know anyone here who might've seen him?
{{GM}}She fiddles with her scratch pad and eyes the plenteous orders scrawled across its top page. After a moment of consideration, she speaks.{{/GM}}

I might know the ork... If he's who I'm thinking of, he only comes around a couple times a year. I've never served him, but I've heard he gets real pushy with the other waiters.
Pushy, huh? Why's that?
He's allergic to shellfish, I think. We get so many orders, sometimes mistakes are made…
{{GM}}A hint of fear flashes across her face.{{/GM}}

Ah! I didn't just say that. I can assure you our service is second to none.

{{GM}}She nervously peeks over her shoulder.{{/GM}}
C'mon, now. You must've heard where the ork and Mr. Lo are eating, since you have to make sure allergy-related orders get to the right place.
Don't pull that act on me. You know where the ork's eating. Spill!
Tell me where my friend's eating, and I won't mention your little indiscretion to a soul.
$+(l.sir), this is the *Shangri-La.* We have over two dozen private dining rooms in addition to our main dining floor. As I've already said, I serve out here. Your friend could be in any of our other rooms.

Now, excuse me, I need to place these orders. Enjoy your meal.

{{GM}}And with that, she wheels around and marches toward the kitchen.{{/GM}}
The upstairs servers. They have to come down here to access the kitchen, so you may be able to find one of them in there.
Wish I could help more, $(l.sir), but I need to place these orders. Enjoy your meal.

{{GM}}She darts around you and hurriedly resumes her duties, leaving you no time to respond.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}She glances around, impatiently searching for an excuse to end the conversation.{{/GM}}

As always, we're very busy. But I see a couple parties preparing to leave, so you won't have to wait long for a table.

If you decide to wait in the lounge, please be aware that a group of our preferred Wuxing diners are celebrating inside. We'd appreciate it if you'd respect their privacy.
{{GM}}Her finger anxiously taps the food orders clutched tightly in her hand.{{/GM}}

Anything else?
Accident
Use Accident Power.
{{GM}}She points her finger at you and speaks with a commanding tone.{{/GM}}

*Stop.* I don't know who you are, or what you're here for, and now is not the time to find out. A para-zoological creature has broken out of its cell and is rampaging somewhere inside this building.
So you need to leave my office. *Now,* or I'll have you removed in the most ungentle way possible.
Well, someone's on the ball. I hadn't even had a chance to call the janitors. I only *just* killed it, too. How did you...?

{{GM}}She shakes her head.{{/GM}}

No, never mind. Just get rid of this thing! It's leaking all over my Persian rug.
I'm your $(s.man), but you'll wanna leave for this. Things are going to get a lot worse in here before they get better.
I... what? What do you mean?
No way I can get this thing through the doorway, so, uh, some dismemberment will be required.
I can get a crane up here to lift it out through your window, but with all these liquids that it's secreting, it's likely your office will be repainted in monster hues.
The dissection squad's going to want to take a look at this while it's still fresh.
{{GM}}She pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration.{{/GM}}

I don't need to know the details. You do what you have to do. Just get it OUT. I'll be waiting in one of the spare offices.
But don't just throw this body away - put it in cold storage. Maybe we can still get something out of it.
Can do.
{{GM}}She pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration.{{/GM}}

I don't need to know the details. You do what you have to do.

I'll be waiting in one of the spare offices.
Unless you're here to clean up this mess, please leave me to my business. I had to drop an important call to kill this thing, and, as if that weren't bad enough, the ordeal is sure to see me buried in paperwork.
{{GM}}She stares at you.{{/GM}}

Well? What are you still doing here? Don't force me to remove you. I'm in an unpleasant mood, and it will only bring grief to the both of us.
{{GM}}The vice president looks up from her PDA to greet you, but stops.{{/GM}}

Are you serious? What, you're suddenly with Tsang maintenance now?
I see what's happening here... you're a shadowrunner. And a shoddy one. Who do you think you're fooling with a costume change?

{{GM}}She lifts her PDA to her mouth.{{/GM}}

Runner in my office! Get someone in here, stat!
{{GM}}The vice president spares you a glance from over the top of her PDA. There's a bite to her voice.{{/GM}}

Who are you?
{{GM}}Show her your Tsang security passes.{{/GM}} Maintenance, ma'am.
What do you want?
Just doing a routine checkup. How are things? Lights, airflow, power supply...
I was sent up here to investigate a strange smell. Have you noticed any unusual odors around here?
I'm checking the stability of electrical ports throughout the building. Mind if I have a look?
Everything's fine. Now get out before I call security.
No need to get angry. I'm leaving.
Sorry, I'll let you get back to your work.
I don't have to take this.
{{GM}}The vice president fumbles with her PDA in alarm.{{/GM}}

Who are you? Why have you so rudely barged into my office?
Looking for a meeting. Is this Room C?
{{GM}}Her voice is calm, but biting.{{/GM}}

Does this look like a meeting room to you?
Not really. Sure nice, though.
Hmm, now that you mention it...
Get out! And if I see you again, I'll have you forcibly removed.
Piss. Off.

{{GM}}Each syllable is stressed with a seething rage that sounds as if it's on the verge of explosion. Best to leave this woman to her work.{{/GM}}
That's it!

{{GM}}She slams a beaker onto the lab table. Her equipment shakes under the force.{{/GM}}

I have had it with your pestering.
At first, I thought you might just be stupid, since that paperwork you're waving around doesn't include access to the research offices. So I overlooked it.

But now, I don't give a shit. I want you out! SECURITY!
El Ducé
A street samurai searching Hong Kong for evidence to use in his personal vendetta against Shiawase Corporation.
Mercenary: Street Samurai
Paydata: Exotic Animal Dealer Contacts
A list of exotic animal smugglers and dealers. It could be worth some money on the Shadowland BBS.
A crushing claw attack that does -16 HP DMG.
This wall vent looks large enough to accommodate a standard security drone.
{{GM}}Send a drone through the vent.{{/GM}}
Smoker Mk. 2
A support drone that is equipped to lay a smoke trail anywhere you need it most.
Singe I
A burst of fire leaves the target smoldering, making them easier to hit for 2 turns.
Smoldering: Easier to Hit
Using Stone Body Power
Whirlwind
A katana attack that can hit adjacent targets. +2 DMG. Cannot do AP DMG.
Single target.
Is0bel looks up at you, a troubled expression on her face.

If she's found any peace from your victory in the Walled City, she isn't showing it.
Well... we did it. Qian Ya is gone, and we never have to set foot in the Walled City again.

{{GM}}She tries on a smile. It falls away a moment later.{{/GM}}

I guess that I don't need these memories any more.
Don't you? They're a part of you, after all.
You haven't needed them since we got back. So why haven't you deleted them yet?
You're right. You don't. So go ahead and delete them... all they're doing now is hurting you.
So is a kidney stone. Doesn't mean that you wanna hang onto it.
{{GM}}She pauses, frowning.{{/GM}}

...But in all seriousness, something is holding me back.

These memories are like torture, but deleting them doesn't feel right, and I don't know why.
The hell with it. I'm getting rid of them, right now.

Goodbye, childhood from hell.
Her fingers dance over the Octopus's keyboard. She punches the ENTER key.

Then she falls silent, blinking.
Is0bel? Are you okay?
Did you do it? Did it work?
I didn't think that you'd go through with it.
{{GM}}She looks up at you, wide-eyed.{{/GM}}

Of course. Why wouldn't I be?

Everything's fine now.
Did you do it? Are the memories gone?
You sure about that?
Yes. My headware memory is a clean slate. Plenty of space for decking software.

{{GM}}A slow smile spreads across her face.{{/GM}}

I can remember that I was upset, but for the life of me, I can't remember why.
Huh. All's well that ends well, I guess.
There's something vaguely creepy about that.
That's a huge step up from where you were five minutes ago, believe me.
It's weird. I got *so worked up* about the Walled City, and my childhood there... as if any of it really mattered.

It didn't. Not at all. I'm here now... I made it out. Isn't that the only thing that matters?
You were upset because you could remember how terrible things were for the people there. You lived it.
Yeah, I guess so. Live in the now, right?
{{GM}}She blinks up at you, confused.{{/GM}}

...I did?

{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

I mean, I get it on an intellectual level. I understand the concept. But that doesn't sound like something that I would do.
Anyway. Good riddance. All of that useless baggage, washed away... and all of this clean, beautiful storage space for the things that really *matter,* like IC-breaking software and simsense vids.

{{GM}}She waves you off.{{/GM}}

Speaking of which, there's some more work that I want to do on the Octopus. Can you find your own way out?
Yeah, Izz. I'll be going. Good work in there.
{{GM}}She beams at you. For the first time since you recovered her old memories, she looks genuinely happy.{{/GM}}

Yeah, $(l.name). You, too.
Exactly. None of those memories were doing me any good anyway. They were making me sad and sick, so I got rid of them. Isn't that how it's supposed to work?
Why? I mean, I remember getting all worked up about the Walled City, and my childhood there... as if any of it really mattered. But it didn't - not at all.

I'm here now. I made it out. Isn't that the only thing that matters?
Yeah... I remember. It's like watching a different person on the trid.

I remember getting all worked up about the Walled City, and my childhood there... as if any of it really mattered. But it didn't - not at all.

I'm here now. I made it out. Isn't that the only thing that matters?
{{GM}}She looks up at you, wide-eyed.{{/GM}}

Why not? It was the right thing to do. Everything's fine now.
I don't know.
I want to, but something's holding me back. It doesn't feel... right, somehow. And I don't know why.
Look... Izz. If you delete those memories, you'll be doing to yourself what Josephine Tsang was trying to do to Raymond.
You were just fine before you had these memories restored. You've been suffering ever since. Just get rid of them, you'll be happier that way.
She says nothing. Just stares.

A moment later, she nods.
Yeah. That's what I'd be doing. Changing my past through omission, and rewriting my present by doing it.

I think that it's a form of self-mutilation, kinda. It makes me feel uneasy.
So what do you want to do?
They're ultimately your memories, Is0bel. Do what you want with them - you have no one to answer to but yourself.
I don't know.

I'm thinking maybe I'll sleep on it.
I think that's a good call. It's been a big day.
Yeah. A bit. You can probably use the rest, too.

{{GM}}She offers you a small smile.{{/GM}}

G'night, $(l.name), and rest well. You've earned it.
Yeah, I know. And I wanna be sure that I can live with whatever decision I do make.

I'm thinking maybe I'll sleep on it.
You might be right. Maybe I'm being silly about this.

I lived without these memories once. I was happy. All signs suggest that I could do it again, but a part of me doesn't want to.
The act of cutting out memories like this... I think that it's a form of self-mutilation, kinda.

It makes me feel uneasy.
That's the part I'm not sure about.

They're definitely hurting me, but I think that they might be doing more than that. Or something.

I can't explain it, but something is holding me back. Deleting these things just doesn't feel right, and I don't know why.
We did it, I guess.

I got to take a scenic tour through hell to a childhood home that I've done my best to forget. Then we fought off a monster that I've spent my entire life pretending not to believe in.

{{GM}}She squeezes her eyes shut.{{/GM}}
...Somehow, it's hard to get excited about that.
We won. That's a good thing. But in the end, it's just a drop in the bucket.

Monumental evils like the one that Josephine Tsang perpetrated go unpunished. The most that people like us can do is to clean up the mess, knowing that there'll be another, *bigger* mess waiting for us tomorrow.
But we *did* clean up the mess. That's important, Is0bel.
Yep, that's us. Glorified janitors for the corporations.
You're exaggerating. Downplay it all you want, what we just did was *big.*
It wasn't enough. We could've done more.

We *should* have done more.
{{GM}}She waves you off.{{/GM}}

Just... leave me alone, $(l.name).

I'm not in the mood to celebrate. All that I want to do is sleep.
Is0bel's cabin is an exercise in controlled chaos.

Her living space is utterly dominated by an enormous, jury-rigged computer. Serpentine cables snake from component to component, tying dozens of obsolete terminals and cyberdecks together into a single colossal machine.
This is my personal machine. If you're looking for your mission computer, it's downstairs.

{{GM}}She doesn't bother looking up. You can see that she's elbow-deep in the guts of an obsolete cyberdeck, one of a half dozen that have been wired into her computer with braided cables.{{/GM}}
Actually, I was hoping to talk to you. Got a second?
Yeah, I've seen it. I like this better.
I'll go to it, then. Thanks.
{{GM}}There is a long pause, then she chirps out a response.{{/GM}}

We're talking now, aren't we?
I guess so, yeah. Can I ask you a few questions?
You wanna crawl out of that computer and talk to me face to face?
You must be pretty absorbed by what you're doing, huh?
{{GM}}She leans in, scrutinizing the innards of the obsolete deck.{{/GM}}

Go ahead. I'm not stopping you.
Have you been having weird dreams recently?
That's quite a machine you're working on. Care to tell me about it?
Can we talk about the ambush at Victoria Harbour?
I'd like to get to know you better. Tell me something about yourself.
You don't like talking about things other than your computer very much, do you?
All right, Is0bel. If you still want to play twenty questions, I'm in.
Any thoughts about that last run?
I've gotta go, Is0bel.
{{GM}}Her body goes still.{{/GM}}

Yes. I think that everybody has.
Me, too. And Duncan. We both had the same nightmare.
Me, too. And Gobbet. We both had the same nightmare.
Me, too. I've been having horrible nightmares.
I was just curious. Not trying to make a big deal over it.
You wanna tell me what your dream was about?
I know. It happens more often than you'd think.

{{GM}}She tilts her head in the direction of the Walled City.{{/GM}}

This kind of mass psychosis was common where I grew up. Everybody got it.
What is it? What's causing it?
Mass psychosis? Seems more like a magical phenomenon to me.
Wait. You've been sharing bad dreams with others since you were a kid?
I don't know.

{{GM}}Slowly, she begins rummaging through the guts of the obsolete cyberdeck again.{{/GM}}

I don't think that I want to.
{{GM}}Her voice quickens.{{/GM}}

I don't really know what it is, and I don't think I want to. I just want to work on my computer in peace.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

In the Walled City. Just one of the many amenities of life in that hellhole.

But this... having it happen outside of the slum... this is new. I don't know what's causing it, and I don't think that I want to.
Good.

{{GM}}Slowly, she begins rummaging through the guts of the obsolete cyberdeck again.{{/GM}}

Let's not do that, then.
Not particularly. I don't remember much, anyway... I've gotten good at forgetting things related to that place.

{{GM}}Slowly, she begins rummaging through the guts of the obsolete cyberdeck again.{{/GM}}

I'm not interested in talking about my dreams, $(l.name). I just want to work on my computer in peace.
She's my pet project. I call her "the Octopus."

{{GM}}She waves a hand at the tangle of thick power cables that radiate out from the machine's central core.{{/GM}}

You might be able to guess why.
Did you do all of this yourself?
Impressive work. How well does it perform?
Could you build me one?
Mm-hmm.

{{GM}}She yanks a fried chip from the deck's motherboard and neatly sets it aside, then fumbles in a nearby bin for a replacement.{{/GM}}

I had to make do with whatever I could find as a kid. Taught me a lot about being self-sufficient.
What is this thing made of?
Why bother building your own machine? Don't you earn enough to buy something new?
Whatever I could find.

Busted terminals. Obsolete cyberdecks. Aftermarket memory from Maximum Law's dumpster.

Scavengers would kill for this stuff in the Walled City. But out here, people throw it away.
{{GM}}She chuckles to herself as she eases a card into an empty expansion slot.{{/GM}}

Most deckers are early adopters. They buy whatever's newest... shell out huge amounts of nuyen in hopes of riding the bleeding edge.

Stupid.
Why?
It's an arms race. Deckers do what they have to do.
Because I can have five of last year's model for a quarter the price of that wiz new cyberdeck. And after I've finished daisy-chaining them together, the machine that I've built will run circles around your hot new deck.
Yeah. And you'll need a flatbed truck to carry it.
Makes sense to me.
Can you teach me how to do that?
Do we look like we're hurting for space to you?

{{GM}}She rummages in a bin to her left and pulls out a stick of solid-state memory. It disappears into the deck that she's working on.{{/GM}}

I've got a whole boat to work with - your cabin included, if I told Gobbet I needed it.
You wouldn't.
Be my guest. I wouldn't mind.
No. I wouldn't.

I could if I wanted to, though.
{{GM}}A long pause.{{/GM}}

...Huh.

Well, I was joking. But if you're really okay with it, I might someday. We'll see.
Good. That's a good sign. Shows that you're thinking clearly.

{{GM}}Frowning, she yanks a stick of memory from the old deck.{{/GM}}

So, uh... was there something else that you needed?
Got a couple years to sit here and learn?

{{GM}}Frowning, she yanks a stick of memory from the old deck.{{/GM}}

I can give you tips here and there, $(l.name). But really learning how to do this takes time that we don't have. Time, and desperation, and a need to make do with what you've got.
They do what's easy. Throw money at the problem. Amateurs.

For a quarter the price of that wiz new cyberdeck, I can have five of last year's model. And after I've finished daisy-chaining them together, the machine that I've built will run circles around your store-bought wonder.
{{GM}}She scoffs at you.{{/GM}}

Of course I do. That isn't what this is about.

I built the Octopus myself. She's *mine.* And no one else in the world has one.
She's a monster.

{{GM}}She yanks a fried chip from the deck's motherboard and neatly sets it aside, then fumbles in a nearby bin for a replacement.{{/GM}}

An absolute beast.
{{GM}}She chuckles grimly.{{/GM}}

You wanna pay me for it?

Actually, scratch that - I don't have the time.
If I were to build a machine for you, I'd have to neglect the Octopus.

{{GM}}She yanks a fried chip from the deck's motherboard and neatly sets it aside, then fumbles in a nearby bin for a replacement.{{/GM}}

Obviously, that isn't gonna happen.
I'd rather not.

I lost friends there.
Duncan and I didn't come out of the attack unscathed, either. They shot Carter down, same as your friends.
You didn't seem too torn up about it at the time.
Sorry. Didn't mean to pry.
Was she your friend? You didn't seem that close.

{{GM}}She returns her attention to the Octopus, turning her back on you.{{/GM}}
I was. I may not show a lot of emotions, that doesn't mean that I don't have any.

{{GM}}She returns her attention to the Octopus, turning her back on you.{{/GM}}
You don't have to apologize. Just change the subject.

{{GM}}She returns her attention to the Octopus, turning her back on you.{{/GM}}
Something...?

{{GM}}She pauses for a moment.{{/GM}}

Okay. I don't like small talk. Does that count?
Sure. It tells me that you don't want to be social.
Yeah, of course. If you don't wanna talk, we don't have to talk.
Oh, come on. You have to give me more than that.
Look, it's nothing personal. I just don't think that I'm a very interesting person.

{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

Sorry if that disappoints you.
Thanks for not pushing it. It's nothing personal, I just don't think that I'm a very interesting person.
No I don't.

Look, it's nothing personal, but I'm not interested in talking about myself. I just don't think that I'm a very interesting person.
{{GM}}There is a long pause before she responds. When she does, she sounds vaguely hurt.{{/GM}}

I prefer not to. Nothing personal... it's just the way that I am.
There's nothing wrong with that. I just want to know who I'm running with. Don't you?
You should learn to speak up. The whole "strong and silent" thing doesn't work for you.
If you say so.
Yes. You're still a mystery to me.

{{GM}}There is a long pause.{{/GM}}

I don't like mysteries. But I do enjoy solving them.
{{GM}}She turns. Gives you her full attention.{{/GM}}

So here's what we're going to do. I'm gonna ask you a question - something personal.

After you've given me an answer, you get to ask me something.
Think of it like a game of questions. We take turns until one of us wants to quit.

Deal?
Deal. You go first - ask away.
I don't think so. I don't play games.
{{GM}}She studies your face.{{/GM}}

We'll start off easy. Tell me what you really think about Duncan.
I love and respect the man. He's family.
He can be a pain in the ass, but he's like a brother to me.
We're old friends who drifted apart. That's all.
He was a means to an end back in the Barrens. Now he's just irritating.
I don't have any feelings about him one way or the other.
{{GM}}She cocks her head inquisitively.{{/GM}}

I've heard how you abandoned him back in Seattle. If that's love, you've got a funny way of showing it.
Well. You've answered my question... I guess that makes it your turn.
How long have you been running the shadows with Gobbet?
How did you and Gobbet meet?
Where did you learn to deck?
You grew up in the Walled City, right? Tell me about that.
That's a good question. I guess about four years now?

A decent stretch by anyone's reckoning.
And that would make it my turn.

{{GM}}She pauses, considering.{{/GM}}
So tell me... what was your connection to Raymond Black?
He was like a father to me... me and Duncan. He got us out of the Barrens.
He was a rich old man who wanted to buy the gratitude of some street kids. I accepted.
He was my benefactor and mentor. I respected him.
In that case, I'm sorry for your loss.

Losing the ones that you love is hard.
Your turn. Ask me a question and I'll give you an answer.
Interesting.

You and Duncan have very different takes on the same story.
In that case, my condolences.

It's always difficult to lose someone who you respect.
And that brings us back to my turn.
{{GM}}She gestures at the cabin walls around you.{{/GM}}

You enjoy it, don't you? Living like this. Working the shadows.
Yeah. Raymond Black was wrong. This is what I was born to do.
No. I left this shit behind when Raymond pulled me out of the Barrens. I want my old life back.
This is survival. I do what I have to. Enjoyment doesn't come into it.
{{GM}}She nods slowly.{{/GM}}

I knew it. I could read it all over you.
Your turn again. Go ahead, ask me something.
I'm surprised.

You're awfully good at killing for a $(l.man) who wants to live an ordinary life.
{{GM}}She blinks.{{/GM}}

We may have more in common than I'd thought.
My turn again.

{{GM}}Her head tilts as she studies your face.{{/GM}}

And, I think, my last question for you.
You're stuck here. Marooned. You and Duncan both.

He's obviously unhappy with the situation - he keeps going on about the things that he left behind. But what about you? Is there anything that you want to get back to?
Nothing worth mentioning. Truth be told, I'm enjoying the change of scenery.
Yeah, I left something important behind. My entire life.
{{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} My friends. My career. Everything I had worth caring about.
Nothing? There isn't anything about your old life that you'll miss?

I don't know whether to envy you or feel sorry for you.
She glances down at the clock on her desk - an antique model with physical hands that looks like it was wrenched out of a submarine.

A frown spreads across her face.
Shit. It's even later than I thought, and I've still got a long way to go before the Octopus is fixed.

{{GM}}She begins to turn away, her attention fixed on the stack of partially disassembled cyberdecks arrayed in front of her.{{/GM}}
Hang on, Is0bel. You still owe me another question.
Aren't you forgetting something?
{{GM}}She stops in place. Fidgets.{{/GM}}

That's true. Go ahead.
I need you to tell me what you can about the Walled City.
I know that you don't want to talk about your childhood, but I need to learn more about the Walled City.
{{GM}}Her voice goes cold.{{/GM}}

...Why?
Because Raymond Black wanted to go in there, and somebody destroyed my life to keep him from doing that.
Why do you think? That hellhole is getting into our heads, influencing our dreams.
Because I've visited the place, but I know that there's more going on there than I've seen.
{{GM}}Her cheeks flush, just like they did the last time. She averts her eyes.{{/GM}}

No. I'm sorry, but... no.

Later, maybe. But not now.
You owe me an answer, Is0bel. That's how this game works.
All right, Is0bel. Maybe next time.
Is0bel, please. This is important.
Yes, but...

{{GM}}Blinking, she turns away and buries herself in the Octopus's splayed innards.{{/GM}}

Please excuse me. I have work to do.
{{GM}}Blinking, she turns away and buries herself in the Octopus's splayed innards.{{/GM}}

Please excuse me. I have work to do.
{{GM}}She stops in place. Fidgets.{{/GM}}

If you've got another question, go ahead and ask. But be quick about it.
You've still got a life. It might not be the one that you want, but you've got it.

Considering what's went down on the docks, that's saying something.
In that case, I'm sorry for you. You'll adapt, though.

{{GM}}She shifts her head in the direction of the Walled City.{{/GM}}

I did.
{{GM}}Her brow furrows, and after a moment, she screws her eyes shut.{{/GM}}

We met as kids. In the Walled City.

My prison was her playground.
Did I touch a nerve?
You okay, Is0bel?
I'm sorry if that was uncomfortable for you.
Of course not. I'm fine.

{{GM}}She shifts her gaze to the Octopus.{{/GM}}

I just... have a hard time remembering those days. My childhood is kind of a blur.
Of course I'm okay. I'm fine.

{{GM}}She shifts her gaze to the Octopus.{{/GM}}

I just... have a hard time remembering those days. My childhood is kind of a blur.
No, it isn't that. I'll be fine.

{{GM}}She shifts her gaze to the Octopus.{{/GM}}

I just... have a hard time remembering those days. My childhood is kind of a blur.
The Whampoa. I lived there for a while after escaping the Walled City.

The people there were... difficult. We didn't get along. But it was a great place to learn.
{{GM}}She fidgets.{{/GM}}

I'd rather not talk about it. Ask me something else.
I need to know about the Walled City, and you're our resident expert. Why won't you tell me about it?
Why not? I'll tell you about life in Redmond if you want.
All right, I'll drop it. Give me a second to think up another question.
Because I can't, okay? I just... can't.

Now ask me something else or we're done here.
I asked you a question. I want you to answer it.
Okay, Is0bel. Consider it dropped - for now.
{{GM}}Abruptly, she turns away.{{/GM}}

I'm done with this game. Please leave - I've got work to do.
I don't need to hear about the Barrens. Just... ask me something else. Otherwise, we're done here.
Of course.

Thank you.
Interesting.

{{GM}}Her eyes flit to the doorway of Gobbet's cabin. The corner of her mouth tilts upward into a slight smile.{{/GM}}

And a little familiar.
Huh.

You seem to mean more to him than he does to you.
Huh. Brutal.

{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

But at least you're up-front about it. None of that passive-aggressive stuff.
Really. No feelings at all?

{{GM}}She cocks her head inquisitively.{{/GM}}

That's kid of sad, actually. The only thing worse than hatred is indifference.
{{GM}}She turns back to the Octopus.{{/GM}}

Fine. Hit me up if you change your mind. Until then, I have work to do, so if you don't mind...
I'm an introvert. I'm at peace with that. If you aren't, then the problem is with you, not me.
{{GM}}She turns. Gives you her full attention.{{/GM}}

Tell you what, though. I'm gonna make you a deal.

If my being quiet is a problem for you, then we'll talk. I'll tell you all about myself, satisfy your curiosity. But in exchange, you need to satisfy mine.
So we're gonna play a game of questions.

You answer me truthfully, and I'll answer you. We'll go back and forth until one of us wants to quit. Deal?
I do. I've always been shy.

When it was a kid, it was a survival strategy. Now it's a part of me, and I'm at peace with that.
{{GM}}She turns. Gives you her full attention.{{/GM}}

...But I'll tell you what, $(l.name). I'm gonna make you a deal.

You've pulled me away from what I was doing, so I'll satisfy your curiosity. And in exchange, you need to satisfy mine.
{{GM}}She turns to give you her attention.{{/GM}}

It won't be twenty. But fine, let's play.

I'll go first.
Go ahead, I'm listening.
Sure. Drop by any time.
Nope.

Sorry. This is a delicate process, and you're interrupting me in the middle of it.
Let me ask you a few questions, then.
Should I come back another time?
Later, then.
No, it's fine, I can multitask. I mean, if this bothers you, you can try coming back later... but I'll probably still be working.

{{GM}}From behind, you see her shoulders lift into a shrug.{{/GM}}

Your choice.
Yeah. Sorry. This is a delicate process, and you're interrupting me in the middle of it.

We can talk, but you're gonna have to be okay with me doing this at the same time.
Thanks.

{{GM}}She continues to study the cyberdeck's inner components, clucking her tongue. Skinny fingers dart in to label a stray wire with a strip of electrical tape.{{/GM}}

So, uh... you need something?
Don't mention it.
$(l.name). You're back.

{{GM}}She doesn't bother turning.{{/GM}}

Need something?
{{GM}}Is0bel's avatar flickers onto the screen.{{/GM}}

I saw that you accepted my offer. That was the right choice, you'll see.

I'm ready to make our run on DeckCon whenever you are.
{{GM}}Is0bel's avatar flickers onto the screen.{{/GM}}

You haven't accepted the job offer I sent you. Is there a problem?
No, no problem. I just haven't gotten around to reading it yet.
Yeah, actually. It doesn't sound like the kind of thing that we should be doing.
Oh. Well, in that case, please read it soon. I really think that this job is a good idea, and it won't have any noticeable impact on the work that we're doing for Kindly Cheng.

It's a win-win scenario for us. We just need to go do it.
{{GM}}A frown crosses the avatar's face.{{/GM}}

Yes, it does. Why would you think that? It's a simple job for a valuable reward that'll help the entire team.

We'd probably be back before anyone even realized that we were gone.
Tell you what: I'll take another look. Maybe there was something in your document that I missed.
You keep saying that the reward is valuable, but you won't come out and say what it is. Just calling it "software" doesn't cut it - I need specifics.
Please do. I really think that this job is a good idea, and it won't have any noticeable impact on the work that we're doing for Kindly Cheng.

It's a win-win scenario for us. We just need to go do it.
So, anyway... you're back.

What can I do for you?
{{GM}}The avatar grinds its teeth. Sparks fly on the screen.{{/GM}}

It's important to *me,* okay? It's something that I left behind when I left the Whampoa.

Something personal.
If that isn't a good enough reason to spend an afternoon doing what we spend most of our time doing anyway, well, then...

{{GM}}The avatar shrugs.{{/GM}}

I don't know what to say.
Is0bel is jacked into the Octopus. Her body sits inert, her breathing shallow.

As you approach, an image blossoms onto the largest of the Octopus's viewscreens.
Hello down there! It's good to see you again.

{{GM}}She smiles down on you from the monitor, her outline scintillating with blue-white light.

She looks peaceful. At ease.{{/GM}}
Nice avatar. That's a good look on you.
You really feel at home in the Matrix, don't you? You look happy in there.
How did you lose your childhood memories?
Give me what you can about the Walled City. At this point, anything would help.
Can you think of anything else at all that might help us?
All right, Is0bel, you win. Send me the briefing for that job you wanted to offer me.
Isn't it? I've spent months customizing this avatar.

She feels more real to me than my own skin.
She pauses for a moment, considering. Then her avatar shimmers forward, filling the screen.

A slight frown crosses her face.
Y'know, $(l.name)... I've been thinking about the question you asked me a little while back. The one about the Walled City.

{{GM}}The avatar fidgets.{{/GM}}

The, ah... the one that I dodged.
Yeah, I remember.
You don't have to make a big thing out of it, Is0bel. It's fine.
It didn't feel like a dodge to me. Besides, the whole "game of questions" thing was your idea in the first place.
Look, I wasn't trying to cheat you out of your answer. I want you to know that.

It's just that talking about the Walled City is... problematic... for me.
I understand. I grew up in the Barrens, I know how hard it can be to talk about this stuff.
We've all got problems. That shouldn't stop us from doing what needs to be done.
Things are hard, I get it. But this is important, Izz.
No, it isn't that... I'm not explaining myself correctly. It isn't that I'm tortured by bad memories, or anything like that.

The problem is that I can't remember my childhood.
The Walled City - that entire chapter of my life - is nothing but a blur to me.

I can give you general information about life on the inside, but the specifics of my own experience are gone.
Gone? What do you mean, gone? Do you have amnesia, or something?
General information is fine. Anything is better than nothing, which is what I'm working with now.
Something like that.

{{GM}}The avatar fidgets on the screen.{{/GM}}

There were a variety of factors in play.
The upshot of all this is that there *are* things that I can tell you about, but only a few, and only in bold strokes.

Don't expect any personal stories - I couldn't share them, even if I wanted to.
So if that's okay with you - if you'll be satisfied with trivia and urban legends - then we can talk. Just say the word.

Otherwise... well, at least now you know why.
{{GM}}The avatar fidgets on the screen.{{/GM}}

Okay. Fair enough.

I'm pleasantly surprised that you aren't pushing me on this.
When you're ready to hear what I know - trivia, urban legends, that sort of thing - just say the word. I'll tell you everything I can.
No, it shouldn't. But things are more complicated than that.

The problem isn't that I'm tortured by bad memories, or anything like that. If this were just a discomfort thing, I could push through it.

The truth is that I can't remember my childhood.
Please don't call me that. I let Gobbet get away with it because we go way back, but I've never liked it.

{{GM}}She sighs.{{/GM}}

And no, you don't get it. The problem isn't that I'm tortured by bad memories, or anything like that. The truth of the matter is, I can't remember my childhood.
It isn't, though. Not really. I cheated you out of an answer that I owed you.

For what it's worth, I wasn't trying to do that. It's just that talking about the Walled City is... problematic... for me.
It *was* a dodge, though. I didn't mean for it to be, but that's what happened. I cheated you out of an answer that I owed you.

For what it's worth, I wasn't trying to do that. It's just that talking about the Walled City is... problematic... for me.
I suppose that I am. It's a comfort thing... as long as I'm jacked in, I can be whoever I want to be.

*Whatever* I want to be.
Out there in meatspace, I usually feel uncomfortable in my own skin.

{{GM}}The avatar offers you a lopsided smile.{{/GM}}

I'd probably just live in here if I could.
I've heard about deckers who've tried it. It never turned out well... dehydration is a bad way to go.
That's actually a little sad.
Sounds nice, doesn't it? But it'll never happen.
I know, I know. And of course, I was joking.

But... truth be told, I do spend most of my time *out there* wishing that I were back *in here.*
You're a decker. You must know what I'm talking about... the *freedom* of it.

It's hard to live in a cage of meat when you know how sweet it feels to leave your body behind.
If you were a decker, you'd feel the same.

It's hard to live in a cage of meat when you know how sweet it feels to leave your body behind.
{{GM}}The Is0bel avatar frowns.{{/GM}}

I'd rather not go into it. It's personal.

Suffice it to say that I've never missed them... at least, not until now.
That wasn't an answer. What happened to you?
If you ever want to talk about it, I'm a good listener.
Sorry. Didn't mean to intrude.
{{GM}}She looks away.{{/GM}}

Nothing that I didn't ask for. Now please, drop it.
{{GM}}She looks away.{{/GM}}

Great. I'll keep that in mind.
It's all right... I'm not offended. There are just some things that I'd rather not talk about.
All right.

{{GM}}The avatar licks its lips. Nods.{{/GM}}

I can do that.
Is0bel's avatar turns. Begins to pace on the screen. Where she steps, spiderwebs of light spread across the tiled ground of the Octopus's sculpted Matrix hub.
When I think of the Walled City, the thing that stands out the most in my mind is the legends. The mythology of the place.

If I hadn't lived with them, I might've found those stories fascinating.
{{GM}}The scintillating figure turns to you on the screen.{{/GM}}

Did you know that Kowloon Walled City is supposed to be cursed? That's what the locals believe.

We had ghost stories and everything.
Ghost stories?
You believed that the slum was cursed?
Of course you had ghost stories. Everyplace has ghost stories - spirits are real, Is0bel.
{{GM}}The Is0bel avatar nods.{{/GM}}

Our own homegrown legends about things that haunted the Walled City. Demons from another place.

The Yama Kings.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Academic{{/CC}} "Yama Kings." Derived from the mythological judge of the dead, I presume?
Tell me whatever you can about these things.
Wait. The Walled City is possessed by demons?!
That was where they came from, yeah. But the Yama Kings that we told stories about were their own things. Bastardizations of the original myths.

It'd probably be easiest to think of them like urban legends... our own little pantheon of monsters and morality tales.
The stories are still clear in my mind, even after... everything that happened. Everyone in the Walled City believed them.

"You can get out of the Walled City if you make a deal with Fu Mang. Cut the hearts from the forty-four people closest to you and bring them to him. He will reward you with riches."
"Don't go under that arch, or Qian Ya will catch you."

{{GM}}The avatar grabs at the air, its hands leaving glowing trails as they move.{{/GM}}

"She'll rip out your teeth, tie your tongue in a knot, and make you her slave for eternity."
We had Chih-Shiang, our own homegrown Judge of Souls. People would let themselves be flayed alive in hopes that he'd reawaken them in a better life.

And we had Lam Vy, the Ebony Queen, who'd teach you to hide so well that you'd slowly mutate into a cockroach.
{{GM}}The avatar cocks its head, smirking. A dismissive gesture.{{/GM}}

It's all bullshit, of course. But everybody in the Walled City believed it.
If everyone believed in these things, maybe they're real.
I wouldn't write the stories off so easily. Magic is real, Is0bel.
If you're so convinced that these things are myths, why does everyone in the Walled City believe in them?
{{GM}}She shakes her head.{{/GM}}

No. They can't be. If they were, the body count in the Walled City would be a lot higher.

The Yama Kings are just a fiction that my parents and neighbors invented to excuse their own actions. "I can't get ahead because demons are keeping me down."
It's almost embarrassingly transparent when you really look at it.

Lam Vy turning people into cockroaches? It's just a Kafkaesque trope layered onto a morality tale. Chih-Shiang? He's just Anubis with a different coat of paint. And you know that archway that I mentioned? The one that Qian Ya was supposed to haunt?

I knew someone who found it. There was nothing on the other side but concrete.
It's all superstitious drivel, $(l.name). The misery in the Walled City isn't the fault demons or devils. *We* created it, and we perpetuate it.

We blamed made-up monsters for our own failings. There's nothing more pathetic than that.
It sounds less like you're trying to convince me than it does like you're trying to convince yourself.
What about the shared dreams? How do you explain those away?
I don't need to convince myself of anything. I'm telling you this for *your* benefit, not mine.
Anyway. That's enough for now, huh? I'm sure that gives you plenty to chew on.

My obligation to give you an answer is satisfied, I think. So let's talk about something else.
I don't know. Mass psychosis, or maybe something magical is going on.

But it isn't *them.* They aren't real... they can't be.
Of course it is. I know that. But the Yama Kings can't be real.

If they were, the body count in the Walled City would be a lot higher.
The Yama Kings are glorified kids' stories - they're make-believe. A fiction that my parents and neighbors invented to excuse their own actions.

"I can't get ahead because demons are keeping me down. Woe is me, woe is me."
Because they're an excuse. My parents and neighbors - their whole generation - invented the things to explain away their own failings.

"I can't get ahead because demons are keeping me down. Woe is me, woe is me."
It'd probably be easiest to think of them like urban legends.

Our own little pantheon of monsters and morality tales to frighten ourselves with at night.
No. Not really. It'd probably be easiest to think of the Yama Kings as urban legends... our own little pantheon of monsters and morality tales. Tall tales about things with claws to frighten ourselves with at night.
{{GM}}The Is0bel avatar nods.{{/GM}}

Everyone did. The locals were convinced that the slum had been poisoned forever by things that haunted it. Demons from another place.

The Yama Kings.
Not the ones that we talked about. Our stories didn't concern city spirits, or spirits of man, or any other known supernatural phenomena.

We had our own homegrown legends about demons from another place. Imaginary monsters that haunted the Walled City.

The Yama Kings.
I dunno. Maybe.

I'll put some thought into it.
The avatar pauses. Turns away.

After a moment, Is0bel's voice pours through the trideo's speakers.
On second thought, maybe I do have an idea.

Are you open to taking on more work?
Of course. Kindly's sending me new job offers all the time.
That depends on the nature of the job and the size of the payday.
Right now, I think that we've already got about as much work as we can handle.
This wouldn't be work for Auntie Cheng. Think of it as a side gig that you'd be doing for me.

I think I've got a line on some software that could help us. I can't get to it on my own, though... It's a two-person job at least.
What kind of software?
And Kindly Cheng would be okay with this?
It's kinda hard to explain - it'd be easier for me to just show you. But trust me, it'll help.
I have the run all planned out already... I've done the legwork, I know the location, I know the target.

Just say the word and I'll send everything I have to your mission computer. You can look it over, weigh it, and decide what you want to do.
All right, deal. Send the file.
We've got plenty of work on our plates as it is. I don't want to overextend the team.
{{GM}}The Is0bel avatar closes its eyes for a moment, then opens them with a smile.{{/GM}}

Done. You'll find the pertinent documents waiting in your inbox.

If you decide to accept the mission, just check the box in the message documentation and it'll ping my commlink automatically.
All right. Can't wait to find out what this is all about.
I'm sure that the briefing I sent you will satisfy your curiosity.

Trust me, $(l.name) - this is a good job with a solid plan behind it. You'll see as soon as you've read it... and speaking of which, you should go do that now.
Say no more. I'll go check it out.
When I get around to it, I will.
{{GM}}The avatar beams at you.{{/GM}}

Fantastic! I can't wait to hear what you think.
All right, but don't keep me waiting too long.

Now, was there anything else that you wanted to talk about...?
{{GM}}The avatar shrugs, crestfallen.{{/GM}}

All right. Your call. But if you change your mind, just say the word... I really think that this will be good for the team in the long run.
Sure. What does she care if we pick up a little extra scratch on the side?

I mean, I wouldn't go out of the way to tell her about the job, or anything... but even if she were to find out, it's really none of her business. We're her employees, not her property.
{{GM}}The avatar smiles down on you from the monitor.{{/GM}}

Of course it does. This would be a small job - a side gig for me, outside of the scope of the work that Auntie Cheng brings you.

As for the payday, I think I've got a line on some software that could help us. I can't get to it on my own, though... it's a two-person job at least.
{{GM}}She shakes her head.{{/GM}}

Nope. Sorry. Jacking into the Octopus is how I relax after a long day of work. Some people go to sports bars or strip clubs. I do this.

As a rule, I don't spoil my leisure time with shop talk.
But we're already talking shop, aren't we?
Hey, if that's the way you feel.
There's a difference between *the job* and *our lives.* It's after hours, and I don't wanna talk about work. So if you wouldn't mind changing the subject...

{{GM}}She lets the sentence hang.{{/GM}}
It is. So if you wouldn't mind changing the subject...

{{GM}}She lets the sentence hang.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Is0bel's avatar blossoms onto the screen at your approach.{{/GM}}

Need something? I'm busy.
Is0bel half-turns away from the Octopus's main display. She looks up at you, blinking.

The memory stick that you acquired from Rhombus has already been slotted into one of the computer's many expansion ports. The cherry-red plastic that sheathes the stick looks slick and wet in the light.
You did good back there. The run went well.

{{GM}}Her eyes flit down to the memory stick.{{/GM}}

We got the stick. The key to my old memories. All I have to do now is slot it.
You haven't unlocked your old memories yet?
...No. Not yet.

I mean, I *can.* It'd be as simple as plugging myself in and tapping a key.

My old memories are all mine if I want them.
So? What are we waiting for? Go ahead and do it.
...But you're not sure that you want them.
That's easy for you to say.

I know that I have to do this, but it isn't going to be pleasant. Imagine knowing that you had to jam a needle into your eye - how much of a hurry would you be in to do it?
Point taken. Take your time - these are your memories, after all.
If I knew that it had to happen, I'd want to get it over with quick.
Yes. They are. And I know that I had Rhombus tinker with my brain for a reason.

It isn't easy, you know... shifting organic memories into headware storage, wiping the originals, and locking them away for safekeeping. That's corporate-level mind-sculpting. Serious business.
How very stalwart of you.

For my part, I'm in no hurry to experience pain. And I have every reason to believe that this is going to hurt.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

That's about the shape of it. I'm feeling hesitant about this.
It isn't easy, you know... shifting organic memories into headware storage, wiping the originals, and locking them away for safekeeping.

That's corporate-level mind-sculpting. Serious business.
So? The process was difficult. What does that matter?
Locking the files away was important to you. I got that.
I'm assuming that there's a point to all of this.
So I let Rhombus do this to me, all by himself, in a dirty corner of a derelict shopping mall.

Y'know what that tells me? That I was desperate to get rid of whatever baggage he's stored up there.
Tell me, Is0bel... would it have been easier for you to have Rhombus just wipe the memories altogether?
None of this changes the fact that we just risked our lives to get you that key.
If what's locked away in there can help us, you need to bite the bullet and access it.
{{GM}}She blinks.{{/GM}}

Yes. Much easier. Still not without risk, but--
But you didn't do that. You had him move the memories into storage. Why?
{{GM}}There is a long pause.{{/GM}}

...Because I knew that one day, I might need them.
And today is that day. We need information on the Walled City, and whatever's locked away up there could help.
Were you wrong about that? You tell me.
So why are we even talking about this? You've made this decision twice already - once when you had the memories moved into storage, and again when you took us on a run to get the key.
Another long pause. Is0bel stares at her feet, thinking.

Finally, she looks back up at you.
You're right. I know that. I knew it before we went to get the code.

I just needed to talk through it with someone. Not Gobbet, someone who could take the situation seriously.

I needed to talk through it with you.
Glad to be of help.
Well, now that you've had your pep talk, let's get this show on the road.
Hey, that's what I'm here for.
Without another word, she pulls a cable from a pile on the floor and slots it into her datajack. The other end disappears into one of the Octopus's many brains.

Her fingers fly across the Octopus's keyboard, rattling off a series of audible clicks. Finally, her thumb hovers over the execute key.
All right, $(l.name). Wish me luck.
The key depresses with an audible click.

Is0bel's eyes flutter, and her cheeks flush with blood.
I... oh, *no.* No no no no no.

{{GM}}She starts shaking her head from side to side, wringing her hands. A progress bar on the Octopus's auxiliary monitor slowly climbs.{{/GM}}

Oh, *fuck.*
{{GM}}Reach to pull the plug connecting Is0bel to the Octopus.{{/GM}}
What's happening, Is0bel? Are you okay?
You've got this, Izz. Don't back down now.
{{GM}}As you reach for the cable, Is0bel weakly slaps at your hand.{{/GM}}

Nuh-n-no... No, don't do that.

It's almost d-done.
The progress bar climbs to 100. Is0bel snatches the cable back out of her datajack and covers her eyes with her hands.

She's shivering.
I... ah...

{{GM}}She clutches her temples in the palms of her hands.{{/GM}}

...Now I remember why I didn't want these anymore.
Bad stuff, huh?
Are you all right?
These are *your* memories, Is0bel. You can handle them.
That's an understatement. This... this isn't okay. Not at all.

I can remember things that happened to friends of mine, to relatives... things that I *watched* happen... no...
No, I'm not all right. I'm the *opposite* of all right.

{{GM}}She clutches at her skull like she's afraid it's going to crack open.{{/GM}}

There's a lot of bad stuff in here. Things that happened to friends of mine, to relatives... things that I *watched* happen... no...
It's okay, Is0bel. Breathe. They're just memories, they can't hurt you.
You've got this, Izz. You're strong - believe it.
Is there anything that I can do?
Yes. They can.

{{GM}}Her voice is ragged. Raw.{{/GM}}

These memories are crystal clear. It's like all of this shit happened yesterday.
I can remember watching friends die, and I can see their screaming faces just as clearly as I did the day that it happened.

It's like watching a trid show, but it's my *life,* and it's *real.*
Is0bel. Focus. Is there anything in there that can help us?
Suck it up, Izz. We need this.
{{GM}}She screws her eyes shut in concentration. Beads of sweat hang heavy on her brow.{{/GM}}

I... I think so, yes. It'll take time for me to sift through all of this.
{{GM}}She opens her eyes again. Looks up at you.{{/GM}}

I'll hold onto these memories for as long as I can... hopefully long enough to reveal something useful.

No promises beyond that, though.
Thank you, Is0bel.
I'm not asking for promises. Just do your best.
Don't thank me yet. I could still crack in a half hour and lock away the files.

{{GM}}She gives you a weak half smile.{{/GM}}

Gonna do my best not to, though.
One thing that does jump out at me... Rhombus archived some software up here.

{{GM}}She taps her temple with a fingernail.{{/GM}}

It's sitting on top of the memories, all wrapped up like a present. Don't know why he did it, but it looks like a combat package.
Combat package, you say?
My interest is officially piqued.
Why would he have done that?
{{GM}}She nods weakly.{{/GM}}

Some sort of basic attack modification. I'll have to study it to be sure, but... I think that I can use it.
There's some good news.
Can't wait to see it in action.
This run worked out even better than I thought it would.
Yeah. It's all very exciting. But for now, just... give me some space, okay?

{{GM}}She turns away, shivering.{{/GM}}

Like I said, it's gonna take time for me to make sense of this stuff.
All right. I'll check back with you later.
I'll give you some space, then.
Don't take too long. The group needs you.
{{GM}}She waves you away.{{/GM}}

Good. Go. Now.
{{GM}}She waves you away.{{/GM}}

I know. Now, please... go.
It's interesting, yeah... I'm gonna have to study it to know what it does for sure. Looks like some sort of basic attack modification.

I think that maybe I can use it.
Beats the hell out of me. He put it in there when he locked my memories away, so maybe he was trying to stash it. Or maybe he knew I'd need it one day.

It's a basic attack modification, I think. I'm gonna have to study it to be sure, but... I think that I can use it.
{{GM}}She gives you a weak half smile.{{/GM}}

I always do.
I *know,* damn it. That's why I suggested this in the first place.

{{GM}}She screws her eyes shut in concentration. Beads of sweat hang heavy on her brow.{{/GM}}

I... I think that there's useful information buried in here, but it's hard to say. It'll take time for me to sift through all of this.
Yes. I can. But this is harder than you'd think.

{{GM}}Her voice is ragged. Raw.{{/GM}}

These memories are crystal clear. It's like all of this shit happened yesterday.
Nothing comes to mind.

{{GM}}Her voice is ragged. Raw.{{/GM}}

These memories are crystal clear. It's like all of this shit happened yesterday.
Not like this I can't. These are *years* of bad memories, all let out of the box at once. It's overwhelming, and it's horrible, and I want it to stop.

I can remember things that happened to friends of mine, to relatives... things that I *watched* happen... no...
Th-thanks for the tip. And I'm n-not backing down... it's almost d-done...
No, damn it. Of course I wasn't. But you don't have to be so glib about it.
Yeah. Yeah, you're right.

I've already decided what to do. I'm just dragging my feet because I'm afraid.
No. It doesn't. And I'm grateful.
{{GM}}She sighs.{{/GM}}

Look, I'm going to do this. I have to, for the good of the team.

I *know* that there could be something locked away in storage that could help us. That's why I suggested the run in the first place. I'm just dragging my feet a little because I'm afraid.
Your memories are just memories. What's happening in the Walled City... whatever it is... *that's* what you should be afraid of.
You shouldn't let your fear decide for you. Acknowledge it and move on.
Yes. I know. But that doesn't mean that I'm thrilled to be in this position.
*Very* important. If it wasn't, I wouldn't have let an amateur tinker with my brain in the corner of a derelict shopping mall.

Whatever I've got up there, I was desperate to get rid of it. Makes a girl wonder why.
The point is that I wouldn't have let an amateur tinker with my brain if it wasn't *important.*

Whatever I've got up there, I was desperate to get rid of it. Makes a girl wonder why.
As you step into Is0bel's cabin, she turns to face you. The desk that she's been working at is a mess; food wrappers and computer expansion cards lie together in a heap.

Is0bel herself doesn't look much better. Her eyes are badly bloodshot, and her lips have been drawn into a deep frown.
You're back. Hey.

{{GM}}She shoves a box of assorted mounting screws aside with her foot.{{/GM}}

What do you need?
How're you holding up?
Now that we've unlocked your memories, I have a question about the Walled City.
I have another question about the Walled City.
Not great.

I'll manage.
Don't clam up on me. Tell me what's going on.
When I unlocked these old memories, I told you that they were crystal clear, right? Every detail was perfect.

It's still that way. And I think that it always will be.
I know that it feels that way now, but "always" is a long time.
Then I guess the question is, if the memories aren't going to change, can you adapt to living with them?
Because they've been stored as data in an archival format.

They're never going to fade... they'll never grow less intense with time.
It's like having an eidetic memory. I'm stuck with a perfect record of every shitty thing that I saw and felt during my childhood in hell.

It's not an easy thing to live with.
I knew a guy back in the Barrens who got his arms hacked off with a machete. I'm pretty sure that he can't forget his past either, but he found a way to live with it.
If the memories are this painful for you, we can lock them away again after all of this is over, and you can throw away the key.
Why not just lock the memories away when you're not using them? You have the key. Just unlock them again when we need them.
That's a different kind of pain. But I appreciate what you're trying to say.

Anyway... let's get down to business. The sooner we're done with the Walled City, the sooner I can try to move past this.
I think that I've had enough time to process what's in my head... I should be able to give you some answers about the Walled City. Not *all* of the answers, mind you, but something.

So if you have a question, ask. Let's see where this goes.
That's what I'm hanging onto. The fact that I can ditch my childhood again and forget the things that I saw.

All the more reason to get through this business with the Walled City quickly.
And speaking of which... if you wanted to ask me questions about that... place... you can go ahead.

I think that I've had enough time to process what's in my head... I should be able to give you some answers. Not *all* the answers, mind you, but something.
No. It doesn't work like that. I can't just lock and unlock them whenever I please.

There's a period of adjustment after I unlock them. I have to unpack the memories, reconcile them with everything else that's going on in my head.

It's... disorienting. Painful.
If I lock these memories away again, it's gonna be for the last time. Until then, I'm just gonna have to live with them.

So if you've got questions about the Walled City, go ahead and ask them. I should be able to give you some answers... not *all* the answers, mind you, but something.
Please... don't patronize me. I'm not a lovesick teenager saying that I'll always love my boyfriend. I'm a professional, and I know what I'm talking about.

These memories have been stored as data in an archival format. They're never going to fade - they'll never grow less intense with time.
Honestly? I don't know.
I do. It's just that...

{{GM}}She looks away. Rubs her eyes.{{/GM}}
I seriously doubt it.

Appreciate the offer, though.
{{GM}}She runs the tip of her tongue over her lips and nods. A look of fierce determination seizes her.{{/GM}}

Go on. Ask me a question.

I'm ready.
Go ahead and ask, then. I'll do my best to answer.
Good, because I've had enough for one day. I'm tired... reliving this stuff is exhausting.

Come back later if you want. I'll have had more time to unpack this stuff by then. But until then, please give me some space.
Sure. Come by again if you have any more questions... no promises, but I'll do my best to help.
You enter Is0bel's cabin to find her jacked into the Octopus. Her body slouches, motionless, tethered to the machine.

The computer's large display flickers to life again, just as it did last time. Is0bel's avatar fills the screen.
This isn't helping.

{{GM}}The avatar frowns down on you, a look of supreme disillusionment on its face.{{/GM}}

I'm decking... I'm in my safe space. And it doesn't help. The memories are just as painful here as they are in the real world.
Your memories are a part of you. Decking doesn't make you leave that behind.
Can't you just try not to think about it?
Yeah, it sucks. I get it. The question is, what are you gonna do about it?
No. I guess that it doesn't.

{{GM}}White plumes of static flow from the avatar's fists. She's shaking.{{/GM}}

It fucking should, though. I can't handle not having a way to escape from this!
So what are you going to do about it?
Delete the memories, then. We can make do without them.
I don't know, okay? I just don't. Y'know what, hang on...

{{GM}}The avatar winks off of the screen, and the terminal powers down.{{/GM}}
Is0bel's body shudders. A familiar tremor - her consciousness is flooding back out of the Matrix and into her meat.

Her eyes flutter, and she takes a sharp breath. Slowly, shakily, she rises from her perch on the floor.
You're here with more questions, right?

{{GM}}She coughs into the crook of her arm. Wipes her nose with her sleeve.{{/GM}}

I'm sure that you are. Why else would you be bothering me? So spit 'em out, and I'll go digging around in that cesspit that I call a memory.

Who knows? Maybe we'll find a clue.
Calm down, Izz. We're on the same side here.
I know that you're hurting, Is0bel. If venting helps, go ahead.
{{GM}}She takes a deep breath. Makes a visible effort to calm herself.{{/GM}}

Yeah, I know... I'm sorry. This isn't the person that I want to be.

I'll be okay. I can handle this. Just ask me your questions, okay? Let's get this ball rolling.
I have a question about the Walled City.
{{GM}}She clenches her jaw. Nods.{{/GM}}

Go on.
{{GM}}She nods glumly.{{/GM}}

Be well.
{{GM}}She takes a deep breath. Makes a visible effort to calm herself.{{/GM}}

No... no, that wasn't like me. This isn't the person that I want to be.

I'll be okay. I can handle this. Just ask me your questions, okay? Let's get this ball rolling.
No... I wish that I could, but I can't. Not considering what we're up against.

{{GM}}Her voice takes on a bitter edge.{{/GM}}

I'll tough it out... it's not like I have a choice. In fact, hang on a second.

{{GM}}The avatar winks off of the screen, and the terminal powers down.{{/GM}}
Gee, $(l.name). I hadn't thought of that. Here I've been, trying *really* hard to wallow in misery and then wondering why I've been so sad!

Of course I can't "just not think about it." If I could do that, don't you think that I would have?
Okay, fine, point taken. So what are you gonna do about it?
Is0bel glances up at you.

Her expression is grim.
$(l.name).

I've come to a decision. I want these memories out of my head.

They're an unpleasant distraction, and I was happier without them.
When this is all over, I'm deleting them. To hell with locking them away again, I'm gonna purge my childhood altogether. Shred the memories and move on.

As an added bonus, it'll clear up a lot of headware memory. I'm thinking that I could store some simsense recordings up there... maybe make it so that when I try to remember my past, I get summers on the beach instead of sorrow and pain.
If you think that'd make you happy, then I say do it. They're your memories, and it's your decision.
So rather than facing your past, you're going to run away from it. Again.
These memories are a part of you, and they've changed you. Purging them will kill that part of you again.
So you want to replace the truth with a fantasy?
You're damn right it is.

These memories can still help us, so I'll tough my way through it for now. But when this is all over, they're going the way of the dodo.

Period.
{{GM}}She squeezes her eyes shut. Rubs the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger.{{/GM}}

Anyway. I guess that you're here with more questions, right?

Let's get them answered, then.
All right. Go ahead.
{{GM}}The avatar puts her hands on her hips. A defiant gesture.{{/GM}}

Yeah, that's right. And if you were in my shoes, you'd do the same.
I don't think so. I saw some pretty terrible shit in the Barrens, Izz. I did things that I regret. But living through it made me stronger.
That's entirely possible. I'm not in a position to say.
You're right. I would, and I'd do it in a heartbeat.
Good for you. I don't *want* to be strong - not if this is the price.

I'm the one who has to live with this thing. Don't waste your breath telling me not to get rid of it.
You aren't, but I am. And I'm telling you, this is the way it's gonna be.

These memories can still help us, so I'll tough my way through it for now. But when this is all over, they're going the way of the dodo - period.
Thanks for admitting it.

These memories can still help us, so I'll tough my way through it for now. But when this is all over, they're going the way of the dodo - period.
Oh yeah? Good. The part of me that knows this shit would be better off dead.

The rest of me will be a whole lot happier, too.
Yeah, sure. I saw shit in the Barrens that I'd probably be happier to forget, too. But living through those experiences made me stronger.
That might be true. I'm not in a position to say.
You're probably right. In your place, I'd likely do the same. I just wanted to be sure that you'd thought it through.
Hell, yes. You're damned right I do.

{{GM}}The avatar puts her hands on her hips. A defiant gesture.{{/GM}}

If you were in my shoes, you'd do the same.
Come back later, $(l.name). I'm busy.
Please, $(l.name). You're crowding me. I can only handle so much one-on-one time in a sitting.

Come back later if you want, but for now... give me some space.
I need some time to myself, $(l.name). We've talked enough for now, anyway.
Leave me alone for now. I need my space.
Is there anything else that you can tell me about the Yama Kings?
There was a man here in Heoi who was ranting about the Yama Kings. His hair had gone white with fear, and I watched him die.
Why did you have your memories locked away?
How did you get out of there when you were a kid? How did you escape?
Gobbet told me about your escape from the Walled City, just like you said she would.
That's all for now. Can we talk about something else?
Yeah... I've got another one for you if you want it.

I can't say whether this is based on any kind of truth or not... that's for you to decide. But it was always popular when I was growing up, especially with the other kids my age. You'll see why we liked it in the end.
All right, lay it on me.
You've piqued my curiosity.
Okay. This one was about a boy named Gordon Yam, and how he saved his mother from a fate worse than death.
As the story goes, Gordon was the cleverest boy in the Walled City. He could steal whatever he liked without getting caught, could sneak into any room unseen, and could talk his way past any grown-up that might try to stop him.

You get the picture. A real hero-figure for the nine-year-old set.
So one day, Gordon's mother fell ill. It was a bloody flux brought on by a curse, and it was going to kill her.

She told Gordon that he should accept her death. The curse had come from a Yama King, and there was no medicine that could prevent it from claiming her.

She begged him to run, to escape the Walled City, and to use his cleverness to make a life for himself somewhere far away.
Gordon loved his mother, and he refused to obey her request. Instead, he searched high and low for a way to save her life.

For a long time, nothing came to him. But finally, he happened upon an old man who told him about a powerful Yama King that could cure any ill for a price.
Which Yama King? One of the ones that you've told me about, or a different one?
Different. He doesn't have a name... or, he *did,* but because of what happened, speaking it is taboo. The story's a little fuzzy on the details.

We always just called him the Nameless King.
So Gordon went out in search of the Nameless King. He made his way through triad territory, past the thrill gangers and the organleggers, you know the drill. Eventually, he made it to the inner Walled City, where he found the Nameless King's court.

The human servants of the Nameless King took Gordon to stand before the creature they worshiped, and Gordon proposed his deal.
"Nameless King," he said, "I need your help. My mother is dying of an ill that only you can cure."
"That may be so," said the Nameless King. "But what is it to me? What will you offer me if I spare her?"
"If you will restore her to health, I will join your court in repayment - I, the cleverest boy in the Walled City. I will serve you loyally and well."

The Nameless King was excited then, for he knew of Gordon's cleverness, and he coveted the little boy's soul.
Gordon pulled a braid of his mother's hair from his pocket and held it out before the Nameless King.

"A lock of my mother's hair, o king," he said. "Cure her of this flux, and I am yours to command as you please."

The Nameless King worked his magic, and Gordon's mother was cured.
So what happened then? Did Gordon join the Nameless King's court?
No. When the Nameless King turned on Gordon, he laughed in the monster's face.

"I have tricked you, Nameless King. For my mother was the property of another of your kind. In curing her, you have robbed a Yama King of his dinner."
The Nameless King raged and turned on Gordon, his razor blade fingers flexing wide. But before he could bring his arm down in a killing stroke, it was caught in the grasp of a thousand hooks, claws, and fangs. The Yama Kings - all of them.

"You have stolen from one of your own kind, brother," said the Yama Kings. "Her life was not yours to save."
Gordon slipped away as the Yama Kings descended on their brother. He did not watch as they tore the Nameless King apart and bathed in his steaming viscera.

He made his way back home, to his mother, who was cured.

And that was the one time that a living boy outwitted a Yama King.
She stretches, cracking her back. Clears her throat awkwardly.
...And that's the story. Like I said, you can see why we liked it... it's basically a fairy tale, and the little boy wins in the end.

It's the only story about the Yama Kings that contains even a shred of hope.
I don't know. Probably doesn't mean anything.

It's just a story, is all. You're the one who asked.
Anyway. Is there anything else that you want to know?
{{GM}}She nods miserably.{{/GM}}

Yes. It happened when I was a kid, too. Not often, but occasionally.

People would have bad dreams, and then become obsessed with them. Consumed by their own dread.
When I was a kid, we viewed it as a kind of local malady. Dream madness.

It mostly affected people with other problems... dementia, paranoia, phobias. That kind of thing.
So people would just... shrivel up and die? Because of the dreams?
And the news of this never made it out of the Walled City...?
Basically. But like I said, it didn't happen often.

I remember one old woman, Auntie Wai-Keung. She had skin like parchment paper, and she baked egg tarts for the neighborhood kids.

We liked her, she was good.
One day, Auntie Wai-Keung didn't come out of her apartment.

She was always up and about by six or seven in the morning - it was part of her routine. For her to sleep past noon was unthinkable.
Naturally, the grown-ups assumed that she'd passed in the night. She was old and frail, it was bound to happen sooner or later. So a neighbor, Mr. Ejide, went in to check on her and collect the body.
What did he find?
I don't like where this is going.
She wasn't dead. What he found was much worse than that.

{{GM}}She pauses. Looks you in the eye.{{/GM}}

Oral surgery was involved. You don't want to hear the rest.
Yes, I do. You recovered these memories for us. The least that I can do is listen to them.
You're right, I don't need the details. If you say that it was horrible, I believe you.
All right. Your call.
Auntie Wai-Keung had been busy that morning. She'd put her knife skills to work on her own tongue. Carved it out, plated it, and ripped out most of her teeth for garnish.

She'd bitten down on a coal from the fireplace to keep from bleeding out.
And you think that a dream made her do this?
My god.
Yes. She did what she did to protect herself from Qian Ya.
How so? Comment ça?
The old stories all said that Qian Ya would claim you as a slave by tying your tongue into a knot.

No tongue, no slavery. The old lady didn't want to take any chances.
Unfortunately for Mr. Ejide, she didn't want him to take chances, either. She was a sweet old thing, always looking out for her neighbors.

Thanks to the dreams, she knew what was at stake. She wanted to help.
The other adults didn't make it into Auntie Wai-Keung's apartment in time to save Mr. Ejide's jaw. It was hanging by a thread by the time they got there.

She'd always had a steady hand with a cleaver.
Did he live?
What happened to the old lady?
That's awful.
Yes. But I think he wished that he hadn't.

Replacing a jaw is expensive, and Mr. Ejide had no money. He had to settle with a life of miserable silence, hiding the wound in his face and slurping broth through a tube.
As for Auntie Wai-Keung, she suffered an aneurysm. Dropped dead as the grown-ups were trying to get her to what passed as a clinic in the Mansion District.

But she died with a smile on her face. She knew that her soul was safe.
Aneurysm. She dropped dead as the grown-ups were trying to get her to what passed for a clinic in the Mansion District.

But she died with a smile on her face. She knew that her soul was safe.
Mr. Ejide wasn't so lucky. He lived.

Replacing a jaw is expensive, and he had no money. He had to settle with a life of miserable silence, hiding the wound in his face and slurping broth through a tube.
{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

I've seen worse.
What happened to Mr. Ejide? Did he live?
What happened to Auntie Wai-Keung?
I warned you. You wanted to hear it anyway. Now you've heard.

At least you didn't have to see it.
Before you ask, she had a reason for doing what she did. She was trying to protect herself from Qian Ya.
Good call.

I know that she did... what she did... for a reason. She was trying to protect herself from Qian Ya.
Neither did Mr. Ejide.

She wasn't dead. What he found was much worse than that.
{{GM}}She pauses. Looks you in the eye.{{/GM}}

You probably don't want to hear the rest. Oral surgery was involved.
If it did, do you think that anyone would care?

Nobody gives a damn about what's happening inside the Walled City, $(l.name). So why bother spreading the news?

It was our problem, so we did our best to live with it.
I remember one old woman, Auntie Wai-Keung. She had skin like parchment paper, and she baked egg tarts for the neighborhood kids.

We liked her, she was good.
Why do you think? They were awful. Traumatic.

I'm not talking about personal trauma, here... I was fortunate enough to avoid the fates of many of my peers.
I didn't get pressed into service in a brothel. The organleggers didn't get me. I only had to watch one of my siblings die.

{{GM}}She frowns.{{/GM}}

...So, yeah. It could have been worse. But that doesn't make an early life in the Walled City any easier to bear.
Hang on. You watched one of your siblings die?
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

Yes. My older brother, Cabdalle. Heroin overdose.

He was ninteen. Almost the same age that I am now.
There are worse ways to go than OD'ing. Take comfort in that.
I'm sorry that you had to watch that.
I almost envied him. He got out easy compared to a lot of people who die in the Walled City.

There was no violence. He wasn't taken by organleggers or gunned down by the triads. He just put a spike in his arm, depressed the plunger, and stopped breathing.
I'm sorry.
You could've done the same, but you didn't. You were stronger than that.
Don't be. His death was a lesson, and I did my best to learn from it.

Everything that happened in my childhood was that way - a lesson in disguise. Lessons about impermanence, and the random cruelty of life. Lessons about what a huge mistake it is to get attached, and how to prioritize your own survival no matter what.
You're speaking my language.
I learned some of the same lessons when I was a kid.
Those lessons were important - they kept you alive. But it's just as important to know when to leave them behind.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

I know. We all carry the same scars - you, and me, and Gun Show, and Gobbet. Some run bigger and deeper than others, but we've all got them.

{{GM}}Her voice goes small.{{/GM}}

I don't want mine anymore.
{{GM}}Abruptly, she turns away.{{/GM}}

...And that's enough of that.

Ask me something else, $(l.name). I don't wanna talk about this anymore.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

Yeah. I know. But I'm having a hard time with that right now.

We all carry the same scars - you, and me, and Gun Show, and Gobbet. Some run bigger and deeper than others, but we've all got them.
{{GM}}Her voice goes small.{{/GM}}

I don't want mine any more.
I survived. I don't know if that's something to feel proud of, it's just... what I did.

I don't think any less of Cabdalle for doing what he did. I don't even know if he did it on purpose. But his death was a lesson, and I did my best to learn from it.
Everything that happened in my childhood was that way - a lesson in disguise. Lessons about impermanence, and the random cruelty of life. Lessons about what a huge mistake it is to get attached, and how to prioritize your own survival no matter what.
Oh, I do. Believe me.

Cabdalle got out easy compared to a lot of people who die in the Walled City. At the time, I almost envied him.
There was no violence. He wasn't taken by organleggers or gunned down by the triads. He didn't get eaten by devil rats or die gasping from VITAS.

He just put a spike in his arm, depressed the plunger, and stopped breathing.
Me too.

Wanna hear something awful? I almost envied him. He got out easy compared to a lot of people who die in the Walled City.
There was no violence. He wasn't taken by organleggers or gunned down by the triads.

He just put a spike in his arm, depressed the plunger, and stopped breathing. Quick and easy.
{{GM}}She heaves a sigh.{{/GM}}

Gobbet led me out.
How'd she manage that?
Really? She must've been... what, nine years old?
Figures. You two have been tight for a long time, haven't you?
{{GM}}The avatar raises a hand.{{/GM}}

Go ahead and ask her - I'm sure that she'll be happy to brag about it. But I think that we have more pressing matters to discuss.
Something like that.

Go ahead and ask her about it if you want. I'm sure that she'll be happy to brag about it. But I think that we have more pressing matters to discuss.
Yeah. A long time.

Look, if you want to know more about this, go ask Gobbet about it. I'm sure that she'll be happy to brag about her thrilling exploits. But I think that we have more pressing matters to discuss.
Yeah? I'm not surprised.

Why are you telling me about it?
Because I want to get your side of the story.
Because the answers she gave me raised more questions.
No particular reason. Just wanted to see what you'd say.
{{GM}}She sighs.{{/GM}}

All right. Fine. If that's what you want.
The Walled City was a hellhole - you already know that. But for all of its failings, it *was* a good teacher.
It taught me to hide. To stay small and unnoticed and insulated. To survive.

It taught me that the fish on the perimeter of the school get eaten. That sticking your neck out is a fool's errand, but that even fools can have their uses.
It also taught me to recognize a stronger person when I met one, and how to use that strength for my own benefit.

So when I met Gobbet, I knew that she had something I didn't.
Confidence?
Her magic, you mean.
Sure, that. And her connection to Rat. Everything about her, really.

We were different people then. Still are now. But the differences were even more pronounced when we were kids.
Care to elaborate on that?
I find that hard to believe. You two are nothing alike.
If you were so different, how did you two get along?
Gobbet was playful and carefree. She could hold her own in a scrape, but she mostly saw life as a game.

As for me, well... I knew that it wasn't.
I couldn't have been more than nine or ten at the time. But even at that age, I saw Gobbet for what she represented, what she could be.
And what was that?
Your best friend?
An ally?
My own personal road out of the Walled City. A path to freedom disguised as a little girl with dreadlocks.

And as it turned out, I was right.
She pauses. Her eyes flit to the ground, and she tightens her hands into fists.
Ever since I unlocked these damned memories, I can't go ten minutes without thinking about what might've happened if I hadn't followed Gobbet out of that place.

It's like a vicious cycle, running over and over in my head. I hate it, but it won't stop. I feel guilty.
You needed help and you took it. That's nothing to be ashamed of.
It's bothering you because it's still fresh. Give it some time and you'll get over it.
We all lean on each other. It's how we survive in the shadows. Get over it.
Gives me another reason to feel grateful to her, I guess. That's something.

I've always known that I owed Gobbet, but now I remember how much, and why.
Anyway. That's my side of the story. I hope that it satisfied your curiosity.

Now let's move on.
No, I won't. That's the problem with digitally stored memories... it'll *always* be fresh. Like it happened yesterday.

There's no sense in kidding myself. I'll learn to live with this, but it'll never get better.
That's a hell of a lot easier said than done. These memories won't fade with time. They'll always be just as crisp and fresh as they are now.

It'll always be like this happened yesterday.
I'll learn to live with this. I'm adaptable, I can learn to live with anything. Another relic of a childhood spent in hell.

But it'll never get any better. Not really.
No. That didn't happen until later.

What I saw her as then was a road out of the Walled City. A path to freedom disguised as a little girl with dreadlocks. And as it turned out, I was right.
We're both shadowrunners. That's something.
When you look at me now, you're seeing an Is0bel who's had years outside of the Walled City to fix herself. To adjust.

I didn't have a lot of social skills when I was a kid. Living in survival mode, being in fight-or-flight *all the time*... it had an impact.
I think that's why Gobbet was fascinated with me. How serious I was. She was nothing like that.

Gobbet was playful and carefree. She could hold her own in a scrape, but she mostly saw life as a game.
And as for me, well... I knew that it wasn't. But I saw an advantage in cultivating a friendship with Gobbet, so I tried my hardest to make that happen.

I couldn't have been more than nine or ten at the time, but I saw her for what she could be.
I think that she was fascinated with me. How serious I was. She was nothing like that.

Gobbet was playful and carefree. She could hold her own in a scrape, but she mostly saw life as a game.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

And her connection to Rat, and her willingness to risk her own neck on a whim.

We were different people then. Still are now. But the differences were even more pronounced when we were kids.
...And you want me to answer them for you.

{{GM}}She sighs.{{/GM}}

All right, $(l.name). Maybe I can satisfy your curiosity.
{{GM}}She sighs.{{/GM}}

I suppose that I owe you an explanation. It's my story, and I didn't really give you one.
Please.

To be honest, almost anything else would be preferable.
{{GM}}Is0bel shivers, looking away from you.{{/GM}}

I'm still mad at you for making me go back there. I'd say it hasn't changed, but it seems like it has. For the worse.

It's just like I remembered it, but darker. Meaner. The perfect place for a thug like Strangler Bao and his goons.
Was that really a ghost we set on Bao and his men? I don't really believe in ghosts...but I'm still afraid of them.

If it *was* a ghost, they got what they deserved. If not, I'm sure they earned a world of hurt some other way.
Be careful with Kindly. Even though she said she counted on you to screw the job up, that's not a good thing. That means she was counting on you to be unreliable and disposable.

If you screw up a bigger job - one she's counting on going by the numbers - she might decide to dispose of all of us. For good.
It was a good move to avoid getting in a fight with Bao's men. I wouldn't shed a tear for a single one of them, but Kindly is ruthless. Going against her wishes is a good way to buy a one-way ticket into a shallow grave.

She never forgets the people who do what she asks, though. Especially when she expected them to screw up.
I thought I wouldn't miss the Whampoans. And you know what? I don't.

They're all a bunch of pompous, cliquish tech junkies who act like they're in high school - all backstabbing and whispered gossip. The Elders are the worst of them, always pitting their cronies against each other. They're useful allies, but I don't ever want to deal with them directly again.
They had high school inside the Walled City?
How the hell would you know what high school is like?
Well, I didn't exactly *go* to high school. Or any school, for that matter.

But I've watched a lot of trid, and I hang out on the Matrix all day. I think I have a pretty good idea of what teenagers are like.
I can't believe Ng and the other Elders would be stupid enough to try and shirk payment on a shadowrunner. A ghoul shadowrunner. Who's dressed like a Red Samurai.

I mean, that pretty much screams "bad idea" on the face of it. What did they think was gonna happen? They're good in the Matrix, but they've got a lot to learn about dealing with shadowrunners.
I can't believe Ng and the other Elders would be stupid enough to try and shirk payment on a shadowrunner. A ghoul shadowrunner. Who's dressed like a Red Samurai. You pulled some real smooth stuff with Lam, though. Convincing him that their plot was in everybody's best interests.

We keep them as allies, we get a nasty new team member, and hopefully the Whampoans pick some new Elders with better common sense.
Watch your step if you ever go back to Whampoa Garden, especially on business. Sure, the guy they hired us to kill was a ghoul, but he was pretty obviously set up by the Elders. If they're willing to pull a stunt like that once, they're liable to try it again.

Don't let them blindside you, if you ever take more work from them.
I can't imagine that we could have screwed up that run any worse. The Elders died, the ghoul died, and the only reason we're likely to get paid is because everybody in the Garden is terrified of us now.

Ugh. Not our finest hour, you have to admit.
I always liked the old stories about robbing the rich. I dreamed of being like that when I grew up. You know - a righteous bandit like the ones in "Water Margin," or Sun Wukong. So I liked Wang's angle on the job. Break in, liberate some priceless artifacts, and get out.

I can't think of any stories that involved angry mummies, though. That's a new one on me.
I mean, I guess I can understand being pissed off if you've been trapped for centuries. That makes sense. But I'm not sure the deal you made with that mummy was a good one. What happens when it's free? Is it going to run around haunting people across Hong Kong?

I just hope it stays the hell away from us.
I figure anything that's been trapped for centuries is probably going to be pissed off. I get it. But I also think it's probably going to be a little crazy in the head. I mean, wouldn't you be?

I'm glad you didn't let it go free. I'm not in the habit of trusting ancient, vengeful dead things. That seems like a road straight to trouble.
I have to admit, I had a lot more fun in Repulse Bay than I thought I would. Parties aren't really my thing, and I'd rather be slicing IC than cake. But how many people can say they went on a run to blackmail a rich guy and ended up fighting his vampire mistress?

Nobody on Shadowlands would believe me if I told them the story. Not even a little.
I don't get why Shenyang hired shadowrunners, though. There are a dozen better ways to blackmail Ma - get a decker to plant evidence of embezzling, hire the triads to crash his sets and intimidate his crew, burn down a sound stage or two.

The way I figure it, he wanted to hire us because he's friends with Ma. It's a messed up friendship, but it's there.
Wong got fired, but you let Ku Feng hang around with Ma. I don't get it. It would have been pretty easy to chase her off, and rob him of a major ally.

I guess Shenyang got what he wanted, but if he goes toe to toe with Ma, I'm gonna bet on the guy with the vampire for a friend.
I think we got Shenyang exactly what he wanted. Wong's out of the picture, Ku Feng's in hiding, and everything's set to have Ma's production fail. It was a nice, clean job.

I like it when things go according to plan - relatively speaking, of course.
It was a good move chasing Ku Feng off, but I can't help but wonder if we could've squeezed more nuyen out of Shenyang if we'd found a way to get Wong fired. If we'd done that, everything would be lined up for Shenyang's company to eclipse Ma's.

Oh, well. You can't have everything.
You know, at first I thought we'd made the wrong move in killing the vampire. We could have gotten her to fire Penelope Wong, gotten more money out of Shenyang. Then I thought, "You know what? Good riddance."

Vampires are *bad news*. Ghouls might eat dead people, but vampires kill living prey.
So yeah, any opportunity to get one off of the streets? I think that's the right call.

Good on you for doing it.
I can't say as I understand why you'd want to teach a vampire to be a *better* killer, but okay. I mean, I understand the whole "friends in low places" angle, but we're talking about a vampire. They're dangerous. They kill people for food.

I hope it doesn't come back to bite us in the ass.
Pretty simple, all things considered. Get in, nab the guy, get out. Can't say that I've taken many jobs that straightforward. There's also something kind of refreshing to having the upper hand over a triad Red Pole, even if he's from a small-time outfit like the 289s.

It was fun. I'll admit it.
I wish we'd had a chance to kill the Talon. We'd have gotten more money for the job - and frankly, I just wanted that guy put down. He reminded me of a rabid dog. The kind of person who'd torture his protection racket victims, even if they were going to pay.

We had a lot of guys like that in the Walled City. Psychotic bullies.
I'm also glad to have been able to put down the Talon. I knew a lot of people like that, back in the Walled City - the kind of psychotic bullies that would torture protection racket victims even if they were going to pay, just to prove who was in charge.

I owe that kind of people a world of hurt.
I'm pretty happy with how that turned out. Mostly because with Ares, the alternative is leaving in a body bag - especially when you're stealing a prototype laser. Good pay for a good night's work - and that's what this business is all about.

If you can walk away and get paid, it's been a good job.
I kinda wish we'd kept that laser, because hey, it's a laser. That's awesome.

But you did the *decent* thing, really. You helped those runners out, let them keep their rep, and both of us could get paid. That's a good quality in a team leader, and I'm glad I've got you running the show.
It's an even better job if you can walk away with a laser. I know I've seen Duncan eyeballing it. He's got that look that Kindly gets every time somebody mentions a business opportunity around her - hungry and eager.

Don't tell him I told you that, though. He seems to pride himself on not being a dirty shadowrunner like me.
You know, that Wuxing run is the kind of thing you'd never see outside of China. Nobody's gonna hire you to run around tilting paintings and breaking potted plants in Stockholm or Florence. Here, though, that stuff has real power. I've seen it work.

A few subtle shifts in geomancy can make or break projects, people - even companies.
I don't have any idea how it works, but I've seen too many people's fortunes shift as soon as a feng shui master gets involved. I'm also not sure how much it can affect the fortunes of a company as big as Wuxing, but even a small shift is enough to cost a company like that millions of nuyen.
I hate to be a downer over that mission, but I'm starting to wonder if Kindly Cheng is slipping a little. The entire reason we give her a cut is to make sure the people that hire us don't have ulterior motives, and won't screw us over.

Kindly dropped the ball on that one. Hard.
At least she won't be pissed at us for scrubbing the job. I mean, we finished it. To the letter. And got a crappy payday out of it, too. I hope Kindly's happy, because I'm sure not.

We ever get put in a situation like that again, I say we take the data and run. Fence it ourselves. There's just too much risk for not enough reward, otherwise.
If Kindly wants to be pissed at us for killing the client, fine. That's on her.

Maybe next time she won't try and hook us up with a spy who might want us dead after we make the handoff.
I'm going to bet that whatever irritation Kindly has over us killing the client and a gang of Koreans will disappear the instant she finds out just how valuable the data is worth. We've basically handed her a bigger payday, and if there's one thing that can calm her down, it's cash.

You made the right call. It was an impossible situation, and getting rid of both of them was the only sensible call you could have made.
{{GM}}Is0bel simply shrugs, taking a long time to think before replying.{{/GM}}

What do you want me to say? We helped him kill his old unit. I know that was important to him, but as far as I'm concerned, I was only there for the drone.

It's nice we could help him out, but I'm not a charity. I'm in it for the money.
The way he decided to finish off Ishida leaves me cold. I'm not going to lie - I think he should leave the team, after that stunt. I won't force the issue, but keep that freak away from me. Turning your old commander into a ghoul, to make a point?

That's a one hundred percent psychopathic move. I didn't like him much before, but at least he seemed safe.
I'm glad you convinced him not to turn Ishida into a ghoul. If he'd done that... I don't know. I wouldn't ever feel safe around him again, because that's the kind of thing you only do if you've lost all perspective.

This way, at least he's still a little bit human inside.
You know what drives me crazy about Gobbet? She does shit like this *all the time*. She doesn't *think* about anything - not about the risks she takes, the consequences of her actions, or how her behavior can hurt her friends. She just jumps headfirst into whatever crazy scheme she's got in her head, and damn everyone else.

Maybe after all this, she'll finally learn her lesson.
At least Cadmus and the others got off the Sinking Ship before it blew. They might have failed to stop Malvina, but at least they tried. Gobbet lost a lot of friends and family to that bitch - so go easy on her for a bit, okay?

At least the problem's been solved for good.
I don't think anybody got out of the ship before it went under. I didn't know Cadmus and the others, but they seemed like they were at least trying to do the right thing. They might have failed to stop Malvina, but at least they tried.

Gobbet lost a lot of friends and family today. Go easy on her for a little while, will you?
I have to say, I didn't expect to get off the Sinking Ship without blowing it apart. My money was on setting fire to the whole contraption and letting it burn. But you really pulled out all the stops. I can't believe we had to face down some kind of rat demon god thing, but we did.

I'm sure there's a lesson in there somewhere, but I'll be damned if I know what it is.
What a nightmare. A rat demon god thing, a failed mutiny... it was such a bloodbath.

I hope Gobbet realizes just how bad things would have been for her if we hadn't shown up to bail her out. If she doesn't, there's no helping her.
Yeah, of course I've got thoughts. It was my run, right?

{{GM}}She pauses for a moment.{{/GM}}

...And. Um. Thank you for coming with me.
Don't mention it, it was fun.
Don't know if I'd call it that, but we got what we came for.

That's something.
We're close, $(l.name) - we're so close I can taste it. A few more hours - maybe a day or two - and you'll have your father back. Josephine Tsang is going to get what's coming to her. For you, me, and especially for Nightjar, Gutshot, and Carter.

And we've got the Plastic-Faced Man to thank for it.
I wouldn't have killed the Plastic-Faced Man if I were in your shoes. He was a guy doing a job, just like us. But it was your call, and he knew the risks when he decided to get into this life. I can't fault you for it, because you're not me.

Just remember that everybody out there has a story, even if you don't know it.
I'm surprised that you let him live, but I'm glad you did. He's doing a job, just like we are. That job has risks - you know it, he knows it - but it doesn't mean he had to die. I'm glad you saw that.

Just don't let Kindly find out. What she doesn't know won't hurt us.
I wasn't there, remember? So for me, it was pretty much like any other night - I spent the evening tooling around on the Octopus.
Anything else you wanted to know?
Erosion 1 (Matrix)
Direct erosion attack
The door has been secured by a series of heavy bars, with old motors to retract them. A stained and soiled keypad has been set into the door frame.
{{GM}}Enter a code.{{/GM}}
The keypad winks at you, polluting the doorway with dirty orange light.
5465
Boost
Boosts Persona speed by 20%. Does not stack with other Boost Programs.
The gibbering transient wheels to face you, his eyes bulging out of his skull. He's a young man, probably in his late thirties, but his hair has gone bone-white.

He reaches toward you with hands hooked into claws, and his entire body begins to tremble.
You've seen them. I know it. I can smell it on you.

{{GM}}He reaches his hands to his face and claws at his cheeks, his fingernails digging into his flesh.{{/GM}}

The devils. The ones that are coming, and the runt that leads the pack.
{{GM}}Another transient glances over at you.{{/GM}}

He got into town yesterday. Came in on the same boat that we did. Seemed normal enough at the time, but now he's stark raving mad.
I am NOT MAD!

{{GM}}His voice rises into a scream.{{/GM}}

I've SEEN them! They're COMING! They are ON THEIR WAY HERE *NOW!*
Tell me what you've seen.
Calm down. What you saw was just a nightmare. It wasn't real.
You want my advice, you'll get out of Heoi. Run as far from the Walled City as you can.
The devils are REAL! I *KNOW IT!*

{{GM}}His bulging eyes dart from you to the the others on the street. Spittle flies from his mouth as he speaks.{{/GM}}

They're right behind me - ALWAYS behind me, driving me like cattle, BREATHING DOWN MY NECK! I can SMELL THE STINK OF THEIR BREATH!
Describe these devils to me. Tell me what they look like.
Let me get you to a hospital. You need help.
I know what you're talking about. I've felt them in my nightmares, too.
{{GM}}His breath comes in fits and gasps. He claws at his throat, and his voice lowers to a whisper.{{/GM}}

There are hundreds... all different, but all the same.

A giant with the legs of a boar and the jaws of a baboon. A woman in jade and gold with a hundred blind eyes. A runt at the head of the pack, slim and beautiful, with arms like jaws and an ivory crown.
{{GM}}Tears spill down his cheeks as he sobs piteously. They run in rivulets into the gashes that he tore in his cheeks.{{/GM}}

They are all coming. All clawing at the gate. SHE is already slipping throu--
He seizes up mid-sentence. His eyes roll back into his head, and he falls to the pavement.

When he hits the ground, he doesn't get up. He isn't breathing.
I... I think he's dead.
{{GM}}Check the man's pulse.{{/GM}}
You kneel and press your fingers to the fallen man's neck. Nothing.
{{GM}}The transient stares down at the fallen man's body, her brow furrowed.{{/GM}}

To hell with this place. I'm getting out of here. I know that it's none of my business, but you should do the same.
I'd love to, but I can't.
Not me. I have business to attend to.
{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

Your call. Best of luck.
It's TOO LATE for that! We are ALL beyond help now! They're ALMOST HERE!
{{GM}}He nods, sobbing. Tears run in rivulets into the gashes that he tore in his cheeks.{{/GM}}

The things that I've seen... they're coming. They are all coming, all clawing at the gate.

SHE is already slipping throu--
It's TOO LATE to run! They have SEEN ME!

{{GM}}His bulging eyes dart from you to the the others on the street. Spittle flies from his mouth as he speaks.{{/GM}}

They're right behind me - ALWAYS behind me, driving me like cattle, BREATHING DOWN MY NECK! I can SMELL THE STINK OF THEIR BREATH!
Lightning Bolt 2
A bolt of lightning that targets a single enemy and also does -1 AP.
Jetstream
Friendly target gains +3 Quickness. Lasts 3 RNDS.
Jetstream: +3 Quickness
Mainframe Code
>8484
Gaichu has begun to exude a putrid spore cloud that damages and poisons enemies within his vicinity. Lasts 3 RNDs.
SCK Model 100 (Smartlink)
SMG: The submachine gun made famous by the Renraku Red Samurai. Includes an integral Smartlink system.
Quiet Bomb
An area effect spell that reduces any sound made in it to 0. Lasts for 4 RNDS.
Two attacks in one action. Low accuracy, low critical damage. Uses six bullets.
Shadow
Creates a shadow zone in which characters cannot be targeted, nor target others. Lasts until the beginning of your next turn.
Shadow: Cannot Be Targeted
Secure Clothing
Basic clothing for a shadowrunner.
Sniffer Lvl 1
Increases your chance to hit vs enemy IC and deckers by 15% for 2 rounds.
Sniffer: Accuracy +15%
You have scary placeholder dreams.
Security Override Keycode
A Yellow Lotus soldier's master code. Works on doors inside the Lotus Den. Code: 7881.
Lightning Bolt I
From knowledge comes magic, from magic comes power, and from power comes yet greater knowledge. Adds +1 Willpower and +1 Spellcasting.
X-Floh's Armor
X-Floh's armored jacket.
Spray and Pray
2 attacks with less chance for critical DMG. May hit adjacent characters. Uses 8 bullets.
Cast Glue
Can't Move
Modified for the streets. Adds 10s when hacking Blocker IC.
Twin Slash
A dual-hand razor attack that can hit adjacent targets.
HMHVV Infected Lungs
Disease: HP -5, AP -1 per RND
Aimed Throw
Accuracy is increased by 15%.
Ruger Super Warhawk
Pistol: A modern revolver that sacrifices ammo capacity and combat options in exchange for massive stopping power.
Oh, I know I got what you need! As soon as you walked in that door, I was thinking, I know exactly what that $(l.man) is lookin' for. No doubts, no questions.

It's you. You are that $(l.man). The one with the NEED. The HUNGER.
Now, what brings you in to Zaak's fine emporium of exotic potables?
Wait, I thought you already knew?
You said something about knowing what I'm looking for.
My friend called ahead. We need "the stuff".
Can I see your basic stock?
Let me take a look at that other stock again.
You know what, I'll be back in a minute.
You look like the type who wants some Jazz. Some Kamikaze. Some Cram. Real heavy stuff. I'm not in that business any more. I'm all about the mellow. Relaxing the world.

It's crazy out there these days.
Yes, yes, we spoke. Your friend with the beautiful voice. I think we shared a moment together.
I don't think so. Strictly business.
Anyway, I got that special formulation for you. The numbing agent in these darts will work almost instantly. Crazy party you must be having.

My policy is first taste is on the house, so enjoy! Remember Zaak for all your tranquil needs. Namaste.
Running a sale right now on account of all the rain.
Remember Zaak for all your tranquil needs. Namaste.
My new friend has returned. What brings you in now?
{{CC}}Charisma: 2{{/CC}} You got any... "harsh" goods right now?
You seem like a good customer, yeah. My buddy dropped this off earlier, I should probably unload it soon. Don't usually carry this kind of thing.

Take a look.
Just don't tell anyone. You can keep this on the down low, right?
A designer amphetamine. Adds +3 AP and +2 Movement for 1 RND.
Cram: AP +3, Movement +2
Rushing Stream
The opener attack in the Water Stance chain.
Muscle Augmentation (Bioware)
Flourinated polymers are braided into existing muscle tissue to increase physical performance. Passive: +1 Quickness, +1 Strength.
Corporate Salaryman
Grey suit, grey tie, grey skin.
This door is heavy. It could easily be barred to prevent outside intrusion, but instead it stands ajar.

It's almost as if it's inviting you in.
That's Malvina's old cabin. The seat of power for the Sinking Ship.

That's where the Rat King is gonna be.
Once we go in there, we're going to be in this. There's no changing our minds after we've picked a fight with that thing.

Whaddaya say, $(l.name)? Are we doing this, or not?
{{GM}}Enter the Rat King's throne room.{{/GM}}
Cast Stealth
Exploding Stealth.
Whoa, hold on there. Tsang Corporations has limited inner city access to Tsang personnel only. No pedestrians.
If you don't take kindly to the idea of an early death, I suggest you high tail it outta here.

Nothing but hell past this point, anyway.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Security{{/GM}} We're a contract team. Tsang Corp hired us to assist the teams farther in. Let us through.
Could you be more specific? What's past here?
Damnit, I don't have time for this. Just let me through!
Why are all the locals out on the streets?
I hear you loud and clear: no entry.
{{GM}}The guard looks you up and down. He seems hesitant, but the sound of nearby gunfire hastens his response.{{/GM}}

I might've heard something about that. Let me clear that with the others.
{{GM}}He lifts his commlink to his face. The receiver crackles.{{/GM}}

Team three, this is barrier reinforcer Ngai.

I've got some contractors here requesting access to support our squads. They cleared?
A broken cacophony of shouts and gunfire return the call. The guard's face pales as a shrill sound fills the channel, and he clicks the commlink off. He looks at you, silent, his words in distress.
Those men are in deep, and they need help. Let me through!
Damnit, man. Let us in! You heard that clear as we did - they need back up, and they need it *now*!
{{GM}}He seems distracted, looking back and forth from you to the surrounding area. You watch the guard's nervous expression turn resolute, and he plants both feet firmly on the ground, mind made up. He beckons you forward.{{/GM}}

No more time to lose - the squads need you.

And watch your back!
Their situation is dire. Let us through before more squadrons fall from the support you've so stubbornly denied them.
Jesus, what are we doing standing around here? They need back up *now*! You gonna let them die while we're standing right here?
This is ridiculous. That team is in deep, and we're here to help. So why the hell are you holding us up here when we can be in there saving those men's lives?
What a conundrum. Allow the unverified team in to support your squads - even save lives - or follow policy and detain us here?

Hmm. Now that I say it aloud, it doesn't seem such a difficult decision, does it?
{{GM}}His nostrils flare.{{/GM}}

Nothing you're permitted to see.
I told you once, don't make me repeat myself.

{{GM}}He gestures back from where you came.{{/GM}}

City exit's that way.
This is foolishness. Your forces are ill-equipped to deal with the situation in this city. Let us pass, or we won't hesitate to resort to a more violent method of persuasion.
And just what the heck does Tsang Corps think it's doing here? Because it looks like me like you're all trying to get killed. This is the Walled City you're in, you idiots.

We have a job to do, so if you could kindly plunk your ass *over there,* and let us pass, that'd be great.
Nonsense. Never have I seen a more haphazard attempt to quarantine a city. The Walled City is going to wreck Tsang's forces unless you let us in there. So *stand aside.*

{{GM}}Koschei crouches, ready to attack.{{/GM}}
You try telling me you can't hear those gunshots, 'cause it sounds like Tsang's troops are struggling to keep things under control in there. We're here to help. Now stand aside!
The situation here is beyond what Tsang can control. An entire city? I doubt you have the manpower to thoroughly manage a fifth of it, especially with the locals in your way. You need help, and we need to pass. Step aside.
The guard grimaces, obviously stung by the truth of the words, but he squares his shoulders and stands firm.
I'm not some local you can bully. Let me pass, or I'll bury you where you stand.
{{GM}}Attack him.{{/GM}}
Stubborn, I see. Fine. Have it your way.
{{GM}}He hunkers down and barks into his comms.{{/GM}}

Intruders at the perimeter. Backup, Outer Ring *NOW*!
It's for their safety. This city's drowning in astral energy, and we can't effectively monitor everyone if they're cut off from us and lurking behind closed doors.
I've heard stories about the Yama Kings and their minions here within the Walled City. Is that the "astral danger" you're talking about?
Alright. Whatever works, I guess.
{{GM}}The guard looks as if you just slapped him. Stunned, he stammers out a response.{{/GM}}

I, uh... Yes. That's classified, how did you-- Stories, you say?

Well, don't go spreading that information. We don't want a full-scale hysteria on our hands.
Listen, I take my job seriously, and I need to get into this part of the city. I'm the runner who hit Tsang Tower, so you really don't want me on your bad side.
Sure. But it looks to me like you're already heading toward one.
{{GM}}If his jaw could drop any farther, it'd be mingling with the muck beside his shoes. After the surprise slips from his face, the fear sets in. He quickly searches the area, eyes darting from you to his surroundings. Then he jabs a thumb over his shoulder.{{/GM}}

Alright, go on. I don't want nay trouble. Just don't come back this way, you hear?
And I won't repeat myself. Now clear out!
Seething Hate
Target is marked by hate. Every time the target is damaged while this effect is active, the caster gains 1 Strength. Lasts 2 RNDS.
Marked by Hate
Savalette Guardian
Pistol: This popular heavy pistol can fire a three-round burst.
Distant Storms Foretold
Melee: A katana forged to disable and harry targets. May do AP DMG on a critical hit. On critical hit, does an additional -1 AP shock damage for 2 RNDs.
{{GM}}You exit the core system. The vice president, watching nearby, visibly relaxes.{{/GM}}

Hell, took you long enough. You got it all on one chip, right? Hand it here.
{{GM}}Hand him the data chip and the nuyen.{{/GM}} You ordered embezzlement, you got it.
I've decided to keep the data. And if you know what's good for you, you'll let me have it.
Yeah, yeah. Relax. I'll get you your data.
{{GM}}His face flushes with anger, and he rounds on you.{{/GM}}

Listen here, you little shit. We made a deal. Runner or no, I expect you to keep your word. And if you refuse... well, I've got a team of men who'll paint you red with a snap of my fingers.
{{GM}}Hand him the data chip and the nuyen.{{/GM}} Shit, man. Can't you take a joke? Here, the data and nuyen are yours.
{{GM}}Attack him.{{/GM}} We'll see about that!
{{GM}}He nabs the chip from your outstretched hand.{{/GM}}

Very good. You came through, as promised. A wise choice. I may have need of reliable people such as yourself in the future.
I'll keep you in my books if you keep me in yours. See ya.
Looking forward to it.
If the job pays enough, I'll consider it.
Cast Electro Current
On-going electric damage.
Singe II
Triggered Grenade
Test for creating a triggered mine.
{{GM}}Is0bel takes a quick glance at the terminal.{{/GM}}

I'll be damned. It's logged into an admin inbox, and somebody left it unlocked.

I can't open the door for you from here, but we can read the messages if you want.
Do it.
It's more important that you get to this door and let us through. Leave it.
Is0bel turns the camera in her PDA to face the screen of the terminal.

Amber text on a stark black background swims into focus.
>>HRServ Hotel Messaging Service v 2.0
>>Read Messages

>>MAINT:// 1. GHOST IN THE MACHINE?
>>ADMIN:// 2. LEAVE IT UNPLUGGED!
>>MAINT:// 3. IT CAME BACK.
>>ADMIN:// 4. DAMAGE CONTROL
Open the first message, Is0bel.
Open the second message.
Open the third message.
Open up the last message.
I've seen enough. Get down here and get us through this door.
>> *Ho-Pang, Nancy*
>>to: (ADMIN) Wing, Tzi

Look. I'm gonna come right out and say it: the security guys are right. There's something horribly wrong with that Noodle Extruder.
I ran a diagnostic on it this afternoon. I was halfway through recalibrating the broth nozzles when the damned thing started humming. And, sure enough, it started churning out steaming-hot jook-sing noodles... just dumping 'em into the palms of my hands.

You don't even want to see the blisters I'm sporting right now.
Now, here's the freaky thing: *the dough-hopper was empty.* I unloaded it myself prior to beginning the diagnostic.

I want to repeat that. *It was producing dough out of thin air.*

That machine is haunted. You want my advice, you'll get rid of it before the show.

- Ho-Pang, Nancy
{{GM}}Is0bel blinks, nonplussed.{{/GM}}

Huh. I don't know what I was expecting this message to be, but that wasn't it.

You want me to keep going...?
>>(ADMIN) Wing, Tzi
>>DeckCon_All

The Noodle Extruder in the food court area is out of order, and should be left unplugged until further notice. Under no circumstances should any hotel or DeckCon employee tamper with this device. Maintenance is looking into it.
Again: DO NOT PLUG IN THE EXTRUDER. Severe disciplinary action will be taken against any employee caught disobeying these instructions.

- Wing, Tzi
...All right.

You want me to open another message?
>> *Ho-Pang, Nancy*
>>to: (ADMIN) Wing, Tzi

Okay, I'm getting *seriously* creeped out over here. The damned Noodle Extruder is *back,* Tzi.

I can't explain it. We boxed the thing up yesterday and sent it to the manufacturer. It wasn't here five minutes ago. But now that we've opened the doors and the show is under way, I'm strolling through the food court, and there it is. Just sitting there, with a line already forming.
What the hell do we do? You and I both know that it doesn't have any dough in it. There's no seasoning in the spice reservoir, we don't have it hooked up to the hotel's water supply. The fucking thing isn't even plugged in!

WHERE ARE THE NOODLES COMING FROM? What do we do?!

- Ho-Pang, Nancy
Um. What do you want me to do, $(l.name)?
>>*(ADMIN) Wing, Tzi*
>>to: Ho-Pang, Nancy

It's too late, Nancy. At least a dozen people have already eaten from the thing. We can't shut it down now, and we sure as hell can't let anyone know about it. If people were to get sick, the show could be held liable!
Look. If it's any consolation, I've been poring through the logs of old shows to see if anyone had mentioned the Noodle Extruder, and I found something. This exact conversation.

Fourteen years in a row.
I don't know what's happening with this machine. I don't know where it came from, or how, or why. But it's a part of DeckCon. Nobody can get rid of it. Nobody knows how it works. It just does, and people keep coming back to visit it.

I think that this is a blessing in disguise. That's what I'm telling myself, anyway. Just... don't question it, and everything will be okay.

- Wing, Tzi
I don't even know what to say about this.

What do you want me to do...?
{{GM}}She steps back away from the terminal.{{/GM}}

Okay. I'm on it.
{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

All right. Your call.
Cavalier Voltaic Grenade
A grenade which releases an electric shock in the surrounding area. Does 12 HP DMG and 2 AP DMG.
MAGE ARCANE
Mana Arc I
A mana spell that bounces between the next closest two enemies. The first bounce has a range of 8 tiles, the second has a range of 6.
Stunbolt II
A stun spell which does -1 AP to the target and ongoing -1 AP that lasts 1 RND.
Ares Voltaic Grenade
An advanced grenade which releases an electric shock in the surrounding area. Does 14 HP DMG and 3 AP DMG.
Ancient Book
The heavy tome is filled with cramped, spidery black script of an unrecognizable writing system, written on what appears to be ancient papyrus. Occasional cuneiform seems to be mixed in. The book is cold to the touch.
Lightning explosion that also does -1 AP. Ongoing -5 HP and -1 AP for 2 RNDS.
Cast Stunball
AOE sleep attack
"The Bloody End"
Pistol: This weapon has been customized with a bullet-slivering chamber, creating makeshift flechette when fired. This lowers accuracy, but can cause mild to extreme bleeding in the target.
Bleeding: HP -8 per RND
Bleeding: HP -5 per RND
Code to Mistress' Penthouse
> 112798
Lightning Bolt III
You hear the muffled sound of shouting coming from the west - multiple voices, all calling out for something.

You can't make out what they're saying, but they sound like they're in a panic.
So we're not going to say anything about the monster that just merc'd this Tsang guard.
I was just gonna shoot one the next time I see one and hope for the best.
I'm not thrilled about seeing these Yama King pups all around.
Yama King pups? That thing just took out a Tsang Commando with a flick of the wrist. Buckle up for what's ahead.
Well, if there are more of those things waiting for us at the Fortune Engine. I think we can expect a decent fight.
You thought it was going to be easy?
Alright, I'll be honest that thing was pretty mean looking at Tsang Tower. But now I'm not so sure we want to take those things head on.
Doubt you'll get a chance to say otherwise.
The servitor has fled directly north towards the Old Blocks of Kowloon City.
Cast Blindness
target cannot see
Ball Lightning I
Lightning explosion that also does -1 AP. Ongoing -5 HP and -1 AP for 1 RND.
What a damned nightmare this is turning out to be.

I'm sorry, $(l.name), but I couldn't get you your VIP access.
You got Rhombus' room number, right?
You got out of there in one piece, and *without* the cops getting drawn into this. That's what's important.
Yeah, I got it. I can take you right there. There's only one problem... without VIP access, you can't open the door without sounding an ala--
The picture on your PDA flickers worryingly.

A moment later, Is0bel's image returns to the screen.
--an let you through from this side.

That's what I'm gonna do now - I'll make my way down to you and open the door.
I lost a bit of that. Are we gonna have communication problems again?
You just cut out again. I thought you'd fixed our communication issues?
Maybe. A bit. I'm still using the kiosk to talk to you, but now that I'm not jacked in I can't route messages to it directly anymore.

Please, stay put. If you lose the kiosk, we're gonna have serious communication issues.
This is getting better and better.
Oh, and I, uh... I may need your help if I run into more people up here, $(l.name). In case you hadn't guessed, I'm not exactly a social butterfly.

And if things go loud, I'll *really* need your help.
I've got your back. Let's do this.
I did. But that fix required me to be jacked into the hotel's computer network, and I'm not anymore.

I'm still using the kiosk to talk to you, but I can't route messages to it directly anymore. It'll still help, but it won't be perfect.
Please, stay put. If you lose that kiosk, we're gonna start running into some serious communication issues.
You're right.

At least I know where we have to go. Rhombus has a room in the VIP section, and I can get us there.
There's only one problem. Without VIP access, you can't open the door without sounding an ala--
Mana Arc III
Lightning Bolt II
Petrifying Gaze
The gaze of the creature causes the target to lose all AP for 2 RNDS.
Petrifying Gaze: All AP Lost
Summoner's Guard Armor
Adds some physical protection but maximizes assistance to summoners in ritual summonings. Grants +1 Charisma and +1 Spirit Control.
Is0bel's outline goes fuzzy the moment she sets foot into the elevator. A loud, rhythmic whooshing sound dominates the low end of your PDA's speakers.

It sounds a bit like the rotors of a helicopter.
Heads up, Is0bel. We're getting a lot of interference here.
An elf in his mid-twenties steps aside to let Is0bel at the floor selector panel. He looks wired, jittery - stimmed to the gills, most likely. There's no telling how long it's been since he's gotten a wink of sleep.

Is0bel punches the button for the ground floor.
Working the show, huh? That has to be hard.

{{GM}}The elf smiles down on Is0bel, his expression affable.{{/GM}}

I'd feel tempted to blow off work and go check out the kiosks. Maybe take in a panel or two.
Say: "Yeah, it's tough all right. I wish that I could just drop everything and explore!"
Say: "Who says that I haven't?"
Tell him: "This decker stuff isn't really my cup of tea. I'm just here to work."
{{GM}}She starts in, repeating your words with forced sincerity.{{/GM}}

It's tough, all right. I wish that I could just drop--

{{GM}}She falls silent. You can see her staring at the man's VIP badge.{{/GM}}
Is0bel? What's wrong?
Just say what I tell you to, Is0bel. Don't go off script.
{{GM}}Her eyes remain locked on the man's badge.{{/GM}}

Kein Ding, huh? That's an... interesting street name.

Been decking under it long?
A couple of years now.

{{GM}}He smiles.{{/GM}}

Longer than anyone else to use the handle.
I don't know what you're doing, but be careful.
Just smile and nod, Is0bel. You're trying to go unnoticed, remember?
{{GM}}If she heard you, she doesn't acknowledge it.{{/GM}}

I know who you are.

You're the one who shut down the Kowloon City power grid six months ago.
{{GM}}He clears his throat.{{/GM}}

Yeah, that was me. Let's just keep that between ourselves, though, all right?
That little stunt screwed over a lot of local deckers.

{{GM}}Her voice is soft, but you can detect a definite undertone of hostility.{{/GM}}

A couple of 'em soaked up nasty hits of dumpshock because of it. You wrecked the grid while they were jacked into their home machines.
My team was in a bind. They needed a power outage right then and there, or they were cooked. So I gave them one.

It was the best solution to a bad situation. Let's leave it at that.
An icy silence descends on the elevator car.

A few seconds later, Is0bel pierces it.
...There was this decker. She lived out in Heoi, called herself "Spinster."

She was a good person. Now she's in the ground.

She never came back out of the coma that your stunt put her into.
Another long pause.

Slowly, Ding extends his hand toward the emergency brake.
Is0bel, do you *want* to go loud? Because that's where this road takes us.
Snap out of it, Izz. We aren't here for this guy, and we can't afford to start shooting yet.
{{GM}}She balls her hands into fists. You can read the tension in her body language - she's biting her tongue.{{/GM}}

...At least, that's what I heard. I, ah, ha-ha... I'm just a caterer! I'm not a decker myself!
{{GM}}He stares down at Is0bel. The smile has vanished from his face.{{/GM}}

Yeah. Sure you're not.

You've come to get me, haven't you? To take revenge for your friend. Did her people put out a contract on me? Is that it?
Say: "I'm not a decker, honest. I'm just a caterer who spends way too much time lurking on the Shadowland BBS."
Say: "Yes. I took the contract, but I've decided not to go through with it. When the elevator stops, walk away and don't look back."
Tell him: "I was just pulling your leg. There was no Spinster. You didn't kill anybody."
I'm not a decker. I'm just a caterer who spends way too much ti--
Abruptly, the connection cuts to static.
This isn't good.
Well, that figures.
Please, Is0bel, don't be doing anything stupid right now.
The static pops and hisses for ten seconds. Twenty.

Finally, the picture warbles back into view. Kein Ding is in mid-sentence, practically frothing with rage.
--DID WHAT I HAD TO DO! If you were in my position, you'd have done the same if you'd have gotten them killed.

{{GM}}He's shouting. The sound of it reverberates in the cramped confines of the elevator car.{{/GM}}

There was no third way out of that scenario!
{{GM}}Is0bel starts to respond. The anger is clear in her tone.{{/GM}}

I would NOT have--
IS0BEL! STOP. Listen to me.
{{GM}}She stops short.{{/GM}}

*What?!*
You're crazy. An insane person. And when I get out of this elevator, I'm going to the hotel security office.
{{CC}}Biotech: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Easy){{/CC}} Tell him this: "I'm sorry. You're right, sir... I've been clinically diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic. And this morning, I forgot to take my meds."
The hell with it. Tell him that if he does, he's a dead man. Tell him you're with the Yellow Lotus.
Apologize to him, and sound like you mean it. That's the only way we're getting out of this now.
Tell him to chill out. "Get a grip, pal. You're losing your cool over nothing."
I'm sorry. You're right, sir... I'm a paranoid schizophrenic. In my rush to get to the show this morning, I forgot to take my meds.

Please don't tell anybody. If I lose my job, I lose my insurance, and you've seen what happens when I don't get my pills.
{{GM}}Slowly, the anger drains from his face. Pity replaces it.{{/GM}}

Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me if mine's safe with you.
You don't want to turn me in. My boss would be very unhappy.

I work for Kindly Cheng.
{{GM}}The color drains from his face. He begins to stammer.{{/GM}}

Oh, no no no... no, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean--
{{GM}}You hear the dull, grating sound of grinding teeth.{{/GM}}

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. I just get upset sometimes.
You're damn right I'm offended. You came at me like a crazy perso--
Static.

The comms have cut out again.
This is getting old.
As quickly as it went, the picture flickers back onto your PDA's screen.

Kein Ding looks calmer now. The elevator is descending.
Remember what we discussed. You keep your cool, and this turns out well for the both of us. We live and let live.

Understood?
Yes. I didn't want any trouble from you in the first place.

I'm just glad that it was all a misunderstanding. Please don't take this the wrong way, but I'll be happy if this is the last that I ever see of you.
The feeling is mutual.

{{GM}}The car finally slides to a halt, and the elevator doors slide open. The other decker doesn't get off.{{/GM}}

Enjoy the rest of the show.
Now get a move on, Is0bel.
Calm down. Get a grip. You're losing your--
Static. Then nothing.

The silence draws out as the seconds pass. The only image on your PDA is a chaotic landscape of wavering blotches of color.
You hear a distant sound over the cacophony of the convention hall floor. It came from somewhere in the building, far away... not from your PDA speaker. You'd recognize it anywhere.

The sound of a pistol discharging.
Well, that isn't good.
That isn't good.
The static on your PDA resolves itself into a discrete image once again.

The elevator is a bloodbath. Kein Ding's headless corpse lies crumpled in a corner, and Is0bel's catering uniform is covered in blood.
What the hell?!
He got more upset and took a swing at me.

I shot him.
Yeah, I can see that. What happened to the "play this quietly" plan?
What the hell, it's what I would've done.
What happens to most plans. It gave way to improvisation.

Now, do you think that I can maybe get a hand here, $(scene.Global_PCName)? I give them about five seconds before--
All throughout the convention hall, sirens begin to blare.

A general alarm has been sounded.
Yeah. No way around it.

Now, do you think that I can maybe get a hand here, $(scene.Global_PCName)? I give them about five seconds before--
Hrm. Unfortunate.
Well, that isn't good.

{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

I suppose that it was only a matter of time.
That gunshot came from Is0bel's rifle. The sound is quite distinct.
Yes. I took the contract, but I've decided not--
I was just pulling your leg. There was no Spin--
{{GM}}Her eyes remain locked on the man's badge. If she heard what you said, she's ignoring you.{{/GM}}

Kein Ding, huh? That's an... interesting street name. Been decking under it long?
{{GM}}She starts in, repeating your words with forced sincerity.{{/GM}}

Who says that I--

{{GM}}She falls silent. You can see her staring at the man's VIP badge.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}She starts in, repeating your words with forced sincerity.{{/GM}}

This decker stuff isn't really my--

{{GM}}She falls silent. You can see her staring at the man's VIP badge.{{/GM}}
Mana Arc II
Prototype Drone
An advanced drone being used for research by Renraku. Nonfunctional in combat situations.
Lightning Strike
The adept gains a more accurate 0 AP cost attack that does 14 DMG to the target. Pierces up to 2 Armor. Shares a cooldown with Quick Strike.
Devour
A giant bite from the maw of the abomination.
Decayed Skin
Regenerate: 6 HP per RND
Auto-Injector (Hyper)
An automated drug fabricator that can produce Hyper out of base chemical components. When triggered, increases Accuracy by 6% and incoming DMG by 3. Lasts 3 RNDs. Cost: 0 AP. Cooldown: 8.
Hyper: Accuracy +6%, Incoming DMG +3
The world's going mad. I feel like my skull is coming apart.
{{GM}}There is only one way to describe the troll haunting the back of Club 88. Weathered. It is as if the man had been carved from granite and then battered by the crash of waves and salty winds over the course of decades.{{/GM}}

Welcome to Club 88. No killing, no fighting, no sex trade.
And no fun, I take it.
Rules are rules. You the one who makes them?
I can respect that. I'm $(s.name).
Depends on the sort of fun you're looking for, I guess.
If you’re looking for guns, speak to my wife. If you’re looking for pharmas, speak to my son Callum. And if you’re looking for trouble, you’ll be seeing my son Frederick. Briefly.
And what would I speak to you about?
Nothing. I just steer the ship.
What ship?
There's always a ship.
In part, along with my better half. I'm Henry Ka Fai, co-owner of the club.
I'm Henry Ka Fai. I suppose I own this place.
Was there anything else you needed?
{{GM}}The troll patriarch of Club 88 gently polishes a collection of old wooden belaying pins. These are but a few of the nautical touches that struggle vainly to assert their theme against the club’s otherwise glassy, neo-punk decor.{{/GM}}

Back again? Not just another ship passing in the night, eh?
You a sailor, sailor?
Spend some time in the navy?
I'm just a landlubber. Reckon you're not?
Once was, a long time ago. But now, I'm forever at port.
Sounds like you miss it.
Do I not strike you as the king of island nightlife?
You look more like you want to bash the house speakers with those pins.
You can take the man out of the ocean, but not the ocean out of the man.
At best, you're a duke. But I have yet to see you dance.
Now there's an idea.
So how can I help you?
What was it like, out on the high seas?
Why the change of vocation?
Mmmm. Better when I was younger. Things were simpler then, if not terribly profitable. Got my start on fishing trawlers, just barely scraping by. Good folk though.
Over the years, I made a name for myself, as one does. Got more regular work, on better crews. Eventually earned a spot on a tugboat.

Spent the bulk of my years crewing oceangoing tugs for Wuxing.
The big ships - the tankers, the bulkers, the container ships, the seabed miners - are all run by technical crews and computers, now. On the smaller merchant boats, there's still a little seafaring left, but not much.
But on the tugs, the supply boats, the salvage craft... that's where there's still a place for old-time sailors.

It matters if you can wrap a cable on the winch in thirty-foot seas, jury-rig a diesel engine, and keep a boat on course with just the wheel and the binnacle, after the bridge windows all blow out.

It was a hard life, but good.
Why does a man give up drinking, or sell his trike, or throw out his porn collection? For a woman, of course. And I had me one hell of a woman. Still do.
This place was her dream. A business. A home. For us, together. Hard to deny the worth in that, no matter how much I miss what I once had.
No, $(l.sir). No regrets. No regrets at all.
Ain't that the truth.
And you won't.
No, not military. Was a merchant marine though. For many good years.
You reckon rightly. Though I haven't been on the water in far too long.
I'd rather be under steam. But seeing as how I'm not, how can I help you?
{{GM}}Henry Ka Fai putters about in the back of the club like a great hulking ghost. Despite his size, he goes largely unnoticed by the club’s clientele. It is as if they all have a blind spot in which he is happy to reside.{{/GM}}

Why do you insist on chatting like this?
Am I bothering you? I can leave.
I don't chat. I interrogate.
Love you, too, Henry.
No, no. It's just unusual.
Most people leave me be. They don’t know me, except maybe by name. They certainly don’t know what I do here, so they have no cause to speak with me.
Some of us prefer the anonymity.
Shadowrunners work hard to lead that kind of life.
I don't need a reason for a friendly chat.
Well, I don't know that I prefer it.
But I’ve gotten used to being the forgotten one in this place. Ermine and Callum are the faces of our business. Freddy is the face of our law, so to speak. I’m no good unless I’m out on the water.
Got any good stories for your days at sea?
Guess the skills of a sailor don’t really translate to club ownership.
Stories? An old sailor always has stories. In my early years, working the fishing boats. I swear, it seemed like every day we caught something in our nets stranger than the day before.
Sometimes it was cargo, either lost or thrown overboard by panicking smugglers. Sometimes it was bits of ships wrecked by those Super Typhoons they say the geomancers cause.
We’d haul up the occasional body. Figure some of them were refugees, either from the mainland after the civil war, or the Philippines after that whole mess. Human trafficking. Pirates. Lots of bodies in these waters.
But more and more, we'd pull up bizarre sea creatures. Not sure if they were mutants or some kind of Awakened critters. The small ones we always threw back as soon as we caught them. If you don’t know what something is, best to assume it sprays acid or lays eggs in your brain.
The big ones...

{{GM}}He shakes his head in disbelief.{{/GM}}
A lot of times, we had to cut loose the net.

Nets cost a fortune, but when the whole boat shudders and you see three-meter spines or tentacles or something break the surface, you know it's not worth saving the net.
Those were good times, though. Simpler times. It got more complicated as I got older, and as the seas got ever more fished out. It's even more complicated now that I’m stuck on dry land.
No, they don’t. I want to be a good provider, but I just don’t know how to contribute anymore.
I think about my own father. He was a fisherman, long before me. For forty years, he went out early in the morning and returned late at night. He put food on the table in a very literal sense.
He did that without complaint every week until the day he died. That’s providing. That’s being a good husband and father, as far as I’m concerned.
My father wouldn’t have lasted a day in this life of mine. The world’s just moved on from what he knew, and what I knew. I miss those simpler times.
So you say. Of course, a shadowrunner seeks such a life on purpose. I haven't.
You may be the only one. It seems I go days without speaking to my own family.
On that, I'll most definitely pass.
I'm sorry. It's just unexpected. Even unprecedented.
Don't suppose you're in the market for a club. I'm not cut out for this sort of thing.
{{GM}}You catch Henry Ka Fai lost in reverie, staring at a wall plastered with photos. And while most are signed celebrity headshots, there are scattered among them more personal images from days long past.{{/GM}}

Lot of faces on this wall. Lot of strangers staring back at me.
These aren’t friends of yours?
Not the kind of headshots I'm used to.
We're all strangers to somebody.
Nope. Just rich strangers with a publicist trying to lacquer them in street cred.
We get the occasional simsense star or athlete, surrounded by an entourage of muscle and photographers. It’s all for their image, you see.
They want a stack of carefully staged photographs that seem like paparazzi shots in a "notorious underworld hideout and arms bazaar."

{{GM}}Henry smiles sardonically.{{/GM}}
If we were really all that, the HKPF would have bombed us by now. Club 88 is a neutral zone, and Ermine deals mostly in small arms.
We clear the joint. Let them stage things however they like. Throw a few tattooed-out Blue Lanterns in the background.

In exchange, we get a big stack of nuyen and a glossy face on the wall to show how popular our club has become.
Kindly locks all Heoi down for the visit. Those fame bunnies are safer here than they probably are in their penthouses.

It's all my wife’s idea, of course. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. Callum’s lucky he got her brains. I’m afraid Frederick takes after his old man.
But wasn’t it you who first started running guns through here?
Tell me about you and Ermine.
Heard about that, did you? Loose lips...
But yeah, I took a turn as a small-time smuggler. Less excitement than you might think. Never really made all that much extra money doing it, either.
Had it been riskier, I never would have bothered. But our boat’s engineer was a good friend of mine, and he was in on the deal. He could tuck away those crates in the engine room where only he knew they existed.
I just had to shepherd them on and off the boat. Probably could have negotiated better deals, but I just wanted to be rid of the stuff as fast as I could. Didn’t want Wuxing to find out, and I especially didn’t want Ermine to find out.
But find out she did, though she surprised me with her reaction. Thought she would throw a fit, but the only thing she was mad about was my profit margin. And so she took over.
She and I grew up together, here in Heoi. We were childhood sweethearts. But how often do such things last?
Then, back in ’21, when we were both eighteen and unsure of our futures, we both goblinized. The world was turned on its head. People said it was a disease or the result of a biological weapon. There was panic everywhere.
But Ermine and I saw it differently. We saw it as a sign that we were meant to be. It didn’t matter if we were lepers, because we were lepers together.
Wish I could say she was the first and only love in my life. But there will always be another. I heeded her call for far too long, before finally settling down here with Ermine.
Even so, that call is always there. Tempting me to come back. To be lost forever. Worse ways to go, I suppose.
I do my best to resist. Try to focus on what Ermine has built here for us.
{{GM}}Henry lets out a deep rumbling chuckle.{{/GM}}

No, I suppose not. These are what pass for celebrities here in Heoi.
This wall makes me think that the more a person is in the spotlight, the more they're a stranger to everyone.
Got to hand it to my wife. She can convince a devout Buddhist to buy a gun.
{{GM}}The patriarch of the Ka Fai clan seems more morose than usual. The effect is particularly pronounced because of his massive size and worn granite exterior. He looks like a mountain that has collapsed under its own weight.{{/GM}}

You return to us again, $(l.name).
Everything all right, Henry?
Just doing a sweep of the area, looking for trouble.
I come for the strobing lights, but stay for the conversation.
It’s nothing. I just haven’t been sleeping very well.
Bad dreams?
As a matter of fact, yes. And to call them bad dreams would be putting it mildly.
I don't remember much, and I'm thankful for that. But what I do remember...
There was a woman’s voice, possibly Ermine’s, telling me that I’m not wanted or needed. She urged me to leave, by whatever means necessary. I think she wanted me to kill myself.
And my boys were there, too, only they were young again. But they didn’t talk. They... they just snapped at me, trying to bite me. And their teeth... They had far too many teeth. Rows upon rows of them, like shark teeth.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my whole life.
Is everything all right with Callum and Freddy?
Did you ever have any run-ins with pirates?
I don’t know. Every time I try to be a father to them, I feel more and more like I’m anything but. I suppose it’s because they’re not my little boys anymore. They’re grown men now.
Wish it weren’t the case. They were so much easier to handle, and maybe easier to love, back when they were just boys. When their dreams were just silly nonsense, but all the more endearing because of it.
Now, as men, their ambitions frighten me. I worry, but haven’t the first clue on what to do about it. I’d talk to them, but I don’t think Callum respects me anymore. And Freddy is in his own little world. Can you believe he’s convinced I was a pirate?
{{GM}}Henry lets out a sad laugh and just shakes his head.{{/GM}}
Back in my day, there weren’t many true pirates in the waters around here. The bigger ships were too well defended, and the smaller ones were mostly not worth the effort.
But as time went on, more and more money poured into Hong Kong. That money attracted more sophisticated criminals. Rigged vessels, some of them formerly military. Firepower. Electronic warfare. Trained men.
I was mostly lucky. Wuxing was careful with its ships. They gave a lot of ships escorts in and out of port, in the stretches where pirates were most likely to strike.

Anytime we had big assets in tow, they'd send an escort or an air squadron to cover us.
We had some light guns on the tugboat, and that was enough. Pirates saw us for what we were: a trouble magnet with nothing worth stealing.
There was only one incident, but we won’t be talking about that. There are things I don’t want my wife and boys to know about this world. Or me.
The only trouble here is in my head. My sleep has been pretty disturbed, as of late.
Those damn lights... they're terrible, aren't they? Between those and lack of sleep, my head is killing me.
I miss the old days, when my boys were just boys and my only office was the sea.
{{GM}}Henry Ka Fai paces a rut into the worn floor of Club 88. He wrings his hands, looking every bit like one trying desperately to hold onto something but failing with every attempt. He is oblivious to everything around him.{{/GM}}
Henry? You still with us?
Snap out of it, sailor.
Earth to Henry...
Huh? What? Oh, sorry. Didn’t see you there. I was just... thinking.
Lots of things. The past. The here and now. What is, and what might have been.
I think about how many sailors drown every year, and how I never once came close. I think about how it might have been for Ermine if I had.
Lots of things have been preying on my mind lately.
Last time you mentioned an incident. Care to speak about it?
How are things between you and Ermine?
Truth is, I’ve wanted to talk about it. Needed to talk about it, for a long time.
I was a first mate by then, on a big rescue and salvage tug.

We were steaming out into the Pacific, down towards Saipan. A big container ship had lost power and was drifting.
When we were two days out from Hong Kong, we picked up a distress call. Our captain told us to ignore it. Quoted some Wuxing corporate gibberish and ordered our rigger to change course to avoid it.
Truth is, we all knew why: that container ship was probably losing Wuxing a million nuyen in lost revenues, for every hour it drifted.
I don’t know why I did it, but I refused. Maybe it was on account of being a family man. Maybe I was just in a mood. But I couldn’t leave those people behind. I demanded that the captain send us to assist. And when he didn’t, I knocked him out.
Well, everyone followed me.

When we reached the signal, we found a small passenger ship, well away from its regular route. No response to hails, so I went aboard with a small group.
What we found was a horror show. Men, women, and children, brutally butchered. But not outright killed. Some had died from their injuries, yes, but most were just missing an arm, a leg, or a foot. They wouldn’t have lasted much longer, but they could have been saved.
And that’s when we realized it was a trap. The time it would have taken us stabilize and move those people would have given the ones responsible the chance they needed to take our boat.

They'd meant to lure in a bigger ship.
I grabbed my guys and we got out of there - at full steam. I left those people to die.

They knew it, as we were going. Their eyes have haunted me ever since.
So that was the end of my career. Wuxing let me go nice and quiet, with a hush package. The Law of the Sea still applies: you've got help ships in distress, when you can. Wuxing didn't want anyone to know the captain of their *rescue* tugboat had tried to violate that.
Ermine thinks I retired for the boys and her. She wouldn’t be able to look at me if she knew the truth.
Not great, to be honest. It’s true what the voice in my dreams has been saying. Ermine doesn’t need me. I’m useless around here. Better that I just stay out of her way. But it’s more than that.
We’ve had our share of problems over the years. My being absent for long stretches. Her being left alone, fending for herself while I was away. It wasn’t easy for her. And I think she sometimes sought comfort... elsewhere.
I don’t know who, and I don’t know exactly when. But I can’t help thinking it. I look at Callum sometimes... I’ll always love him, but I’ll also always wonder.
It’d hardly be the worst thing that ever happened to me, but even so...
I just can't shake these bad feelings.
{{GM}}Henry stands unmoving at the back of the club, staring blankly at a wall. Had the wall been built with a window, the view afforded would lead straight out to sea. But as it is, the old troll stares at nothing.{{/GM}}

I’ve come to a decision.
It felt like you were wrestling with something.
And you're going to lay this on me, I take it.
So will it be the soup or the salad?
I have. And here it is.
I can’t do it any longer. I can’t keep on going this way.
I’m just so tired. And not just because of the dreams disturbing my sleep at night. I was weary of this world long before that. If anything, the dreams simply served to underscore the truth. I don’t belong here.
I’ve known it for a long time. I just couldn’t admit it to myself. I tried my best, for the sake of Ermine and the boys. But I’m more a burden to them than a help. Better for me to be out of their hair.
This just isn’t my world anymore. Likely, it never was. But maybe there’s still a world out there for me. Somewhere on the water. Or maybe the only world for me is back in the past. All I know is that it’s not here.
When my number is up, whether it's tomorrow or years from now, I’ll just slip into the water. Less of a burden in death than I was in life. Simple and neat.
The tide is going out. It’s time I went with it.
Sounds like you’d be happier out there.
Won’t your family miss you?
Nobody ever found peace by running, Henry.
I hope so. And I hope they’ll be happier without my gloomy face darkening this place.
Thank you for listening. I needed to talk it through. But... something still holds me back.
It will be no different than when I was working. They survived fine back then, and they’re better equipped to survive now. They’ll be fine.
There was a difference. You always came back before.
I... I suppose. But did they need me to? Did they want me to?
Now I don’t know. A moment ago it all seemed so clear.
The sea is your home. You should go.
Give it some time. The ocean will always be there.
Henry, don't throw away what you love. Your family needs you.
{{GM}}Henry doesn't answer for a long time. When he finally speaks, his voice seems to come from very far away.{{/GM}}

It is, $(L.name)... it is.

It's time for me to go.
You're right, $(L.name). She'll be there. Waiting for me.

{{GM}}He sighs heavily, like gust of sad wind.{{/GM}}

I'll stay this course just a little longer.
{{GM}}Henry nods. Slowly. Silently. Like a ship, rocking gently in the swell.{{/GM}}

I guess you're right. It's not about me, is it? I may not belong here... but that doesn't mean it's not my place.

At sea, my duty was to the ship. Now... I guess my duty is to them.
I’m not running away. I’m running *to.* If there’s a better life for me out there, can you really begrudge me trying to find it?
You need help, Henry. Everyone does. And you won’t find it alone.
Help? It’s true, I haven’t been feeling myself. Ever since those dreams started. I just thought my eyes were finally being opened.
I thought you might understand. So here it is.
You're a strange $(l.man). But here it is.
Was there something else?
{{GM}}Henry appears relaxed in his usual spot, set back from the action of the club. The dark cloud hanging over him and all of Heoi has dissipated, and he looks like a different man entirely. He even smiles.{{/GM}}

It’s good to see you again, friend.
It’s good to see you, too, Henry. Glad you’re still here.
I’m glad we all are. It seemed for a time that something was working to pull us all apart. My family included.
I hardly realized it was happening, but I wasn’t the only one tempted to chase some foolish notion. Both of my boys were also struggling.
When I think how close we came to leaving Ermine here alone, it breaks my heart. But we have you to thank for keeping us together.
I can’t thank you enough. You've done my family a great service.
Happy for you, Henry.
It was nothing.
I'm willing to let you try.
I know you travel difficult roads in your line of work. But whenever those roads lead you back here, I hope you will call on us.
{{GM}}Henry appears relaxed in his usual spot, set back from the action of the club. The dark cloud hanging over him and all of Heoi has dissipated, and he looks much improved, if still contemplative by nature.{{/GM}}

It’s good to see you again, friend.
Yes, and I have your counsel to thank for that. I only wish Freddy could have been likewise encouraged.
What happened to Freddy?
He left. He had some foolish notion that I had been a pirate, and he ran off to follow in those supposed footsteps.
I had denied this fantasy of his. I discouraged him as best I could. Even forbade him to leave. But I think it only spurred him on.
I just pray he stays safe, and that he knows he always has a home here with us, should he wish to return.
I wish you well, $(l.name). You have done my family a great service. We can’t thank you enough.
Wish I could have done more.
We do what we can.
Can't win 'em all.
{{GM}}Henry appears relaxed in his usual spot, set back from the action of the club. The dark cloud hanging over him and all of Heoi has dissipated, and he looks much improved, if still contemplative by nature - but there's an air of heavy sadness about him.{{/GM}}

It’s good to see you again, friend.
Yes, and I have your counsel to thank for that. I feel better at heart, for myself... but I only wish my boys could have been likewise encouraged.
What happened to them?
They both left. Not together, but each for his own reasons. Callum believes I’m not really his father, which I myself sometimes doubt. And Freddy is just deluded, thinking himself the next in a long line of pirates.
I just pray they both stay safe, and that they know they always have a home here with us, should they wish to return.

If you should see Freddy or Callum, though... please, tell them to come home.
I will, if I find them.
Yes, and I have your counsel to thank for that. I only wish Callum could have been likewise encouraged.
What happened to Callum?
He left. He was convinced that he was not my son. It is something I often wondered about, but I raised him as my own, regardless.
Apparently, this was not enough for him. He has run off to seek whatever it was that we could not offer.
{{GM}}The old troll patriarch has a look of quiet resolve in his eyes.{{/GM}}

Hello, $(L.name). I will abide. I will.
I'm just about ready to cast off. Soon enough.

{{GM}}The old troll patriarch gives you look of quiet, sad knowing.{{/GM}}

Soon enough.
Did you need something from me?
No, sorry to bother you.
The team hustles Raymond onto a subway car, taking up defensive positions and watching for signs of pursuit. Raymond wide-eyes the environment, taking in the world as if seeing it for the first time.

He's been in and out since you stopped the ASIST-surgery on his personality. Sometimes he appears perfectly lucid, other times he becomes lost and needs to be guided back.

A group of tourists sit nearby, staring at him and exchanging meaningful glances.
A few stops down, the rest of your crew casually enters the train and drifts over to you. The tourists nervously rise and change cars in as nonchalant a manner as they can muster.
{{GM}}Is0bel fiddles with her deck, her face ashen. She looks around nervously.{{/GM}}

Um... did you guys...

{{GM}}She shudders.{{/GM}}

... uh... *see* anything a few minutes ago?
If you're asking if I received a searing vision that threatened to tear my mind apart, yeah. I saw it.
I believe we all saw it.
I think we all saw it.
{{GM}}Is0bel squints in concentration.{{/GM}}

I saw some sort of *machine* inside the Walled City. It's geometry felt... wrong.

Impossible.

It ripped a hole in... I don't know...
I hate this country.
I said no!
{{GM}}Raymond stands eerily still, looks past all of you. Focuses his attention on someone only he can see.{{/GM}}

I'm *warning you,* Mother.

We are in *very dangerous territory* here. You can't simply build a concrete barrier around it and pretend it doesn't exist!

Those people will *continue to suffer.*
{{GM}}Gobbet looks around for the recipient of Raymond's scolding.{{/GM}}

Uh, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)? Crazy Uncle Raymond thinks the subway car's his momma.
{{GM}}The old man stares ahead, listening. Then he shakes his head in frustration.{{/GM}}

I can *fix* it, Momma. You just need to give me *time!*
{{CC}}Biotech: 3{{/CC}} He's having some sort of reactive psychosis. It could be a result of long-term stress but the surgery could have something to do with it, too.
Take it easy, Ray.
Quiet. Let him talk.
{{CC}}Charisma: 4{{/CC}} Edward, this is your mother speaking.
What do we do?
Just keep him calm. I have no medications for this.
{{GM}}Raymond continues making his point. His tone is energetic, more youthful.{{/GM}}

It's going to continue pooling, do you understand? Did you even *read* the memo I sent you?
{{GM}}The old man's breathing quickens, his face reddens.{{/GM}}

Don't patronize me, Mother! It was *your* idea to put it in the construction site!
I *know* who you are, momma. You're the CEO. You can tell them to stop it.
Stop what, Edward?
I will, Edward. I'll tell them to stop it right now.
Don't play games with me, Mother. The plan to erect the barrier! To block access to the machine!
Tell me about the machine, Edward.
Okay Edward. I'll tell them not to erect the barrier.
Don't patronize me, Mother!

{{GM}}The old man's breathing quickens, his face reddens.{{/GM}}

You know all about the machine! It was *your* idea to put it in the construction site!
He gasps for air and his eyes pop open wide.
{{GM}}The old man sighs heavily, clearly relieved.{{/GM}}

Thank you!

{{GM}}He sighs again, more relaxed.{{/GM}}

Thank you.
{{GM}}Raymond turns to you, blinking.{{/GM}}

Are w-w-we in the s-subway?
{{GM}}Wu drops a gnarled hand on the old man's shoulder.{{/GM}}

Raymond.

{{GM}}He breathes a sigh of relief.{{/GM}}

We've been looking for you, little man.
{{GM}}Raymond's voice is weak. Hesitant. Disconnected somehow.{{/GM}}

Hello, Mr. Wu. Th-th-thank you for... coming to Hong Kong. J-just like I...

...described it to... you and your brother... when you were younger...

{{GM}}He looks up into Wu's face, smiling wearily.{{/GM}}

Isn't it, d-d-d-Duncan?
{{GM}}Raymond's voice is weak. Hesitant. Disconnected somehow.{{/GM}}

Hello, Mr. Wu. Th-th-thank you for... coming to Hong Kong. J-just like I...

...described it to... you and your sister... when you were younger...

{{GM}}He looks up into Wu's face, smiling wearily.{{/GM}}

Isn't it, d-d-d-Duncan?
I don't know, Ray.

{{GM}}Wu looks past him. Makes eye contact with you.{{/GM}}

You may have left out a few things.
He's not.

I used to stutter... and this doesn't sound like a stutter to me.. Something else is going on. It's like he can't find words, and has a hard time leaving sounds behind.
You okay, little man?
Raymond turns his head towards Wu's voice. His eyes are cloudy but he concentrates on the ork, trying to focus.
No, m-Mister Wu. I'm f-far from okay.

*E-everything* is far from okay.

m-m-My m-mother... trying to... rewrite m-my memory... I r-r-resisted as much as I could...
something bad is happening... happened a long t-time ago... responsible...
These dreams and visions - you've been seeing them too, haven't you?
Okay, old man - it's time you explained what the hell is going on here.
What's going on, Raymond? Why is all this happening?
Oh yes, $(l.honorific) $(l.lastname). I've been p-plagued by ni-ni-ni-nightmares a l-long time.

{{GM}}His lips start to tremble.{{/GM}

They began... a f-f-few years ago... sporadically at first. Vague dreams wrapped tight with guilt. Blanketed in dread.

{{GM}}Raymond's eyes roll back in his head and he closes them tight.{{/GM}}}
{{GM}}The old man's breathing becomes erratic.{{/GM}}

... until this last year... when... the... the...

{{GM}}He searches for the word.{{/GM}}

...the *frequency* began to increase. Then the imagery clarified... started to repeat.
And the sound... the s-sounds of suff-ffering... started to drown out... even my waking thoughts.

{{GM}}He teeters for a moment, dizzy.{{/GM}}
Why did your mother have you kidnapped? Why try to erase your memory?
To correct a mistake... I made a long time ago.

{{GM}}He puts a hand out and steadies himself on Wu's arm.{{/GM}}

My fault...

Prosperity...

All those p-p-people... those p-poor, poor p-p-p-people...
To stop me from correcting a mistake... a mistake I made a long time ago.

{{GM}}He puts a hand out and steadies himself on Wu's arm.{{/GM}}

My fault...

Prosperity...

All those p-p-people... those p-poor, poor p-p-p-people...
{{GM}}Wu interposes himself between you and Raymond.{{/GM}}

Hey, take it easy, $(l.firstname). Can't you see he's sick?
You're right. It's just that this whole thing has been nuts and I still don't understand what's going on.
{{GM}}Raymond turns his head towards your voice. His eyes remain cloudy but he concentrates on you, trying to focus.{{/GM}}

I understand the f-f-feeling...

It was only... recently... that I f-figured out what was... going on, $(l.honorific) $(l.lastname).
{{GM}}He puts a hand out and steadies himself on Wu's arm.{{/GM}}

My fault...

Prosperity...

All those p-p-people... those p-poor, poor p-p-p-people...
{{GM}}Raymond turns his head towards your voice. His eyes remain cloudy but he concentrates on you, trying to focus.{{/GM}}

I don't just have... s-something to do with it... $(l.honorific) $(l.lastname).

This is my fault.
{{GM}}Raymond turns his head towards your voice. His eyes remain cloudy but he concentrates on you, trying to focus.{{/GM}}

I understand... it's just a s-story that I'm... ahhh...

{{GM}}He snarls it out.{{/GM}}

...*ashamed to tell.*
Raymond turns his head towards your voice. His eyes remain cloudy but he concentrates on you, trying to focus.
This is all b-because of me... and m-m-m-my mother. Something we did... a long time ago.

{{GM}}He puts a hand out and steadies himself on Wu's arm.{{/GM}}

My fault...

Prosperity...

All those p-p-people... those p-poor, poor p-p-p-people...
Yes. We r-rebuilt it in 2031. A new approach to... to...

{{GM}}He fidgets with his gauze bandage.{{/GM}}

...low-income housing.

I was in charge of a s-special project... an... experimental project. One that would help c-countless p--p-people... if we were successful.
Prosperity.
Not really. Just that it's in the Walled City.

{{GM}}Wu's voice gets a little sharper.{{/GM}}

And that Edward Tsang and Tsang Mechanical Services had something to do with it.
I don't think we have much time, Ray. Why don't you skip the gory details and give us the bottom line?
M-my... mother was awarded the...

{{GM}}He searches the train car for the word.{{/GM}}

... it was the biggest p-project we'd ever undertaken... the Walled City...

{{GM}}Still searching for the word.{{/GM}}

The CONTRACT!... the contract.
... the... contract to rebuild th-the... housing development... the W-w-w...

{{GM}}He grunts in frustration.{{/GM}}

Walled City! Must've been some time in the '20s...
Raymond inhales sharply mid-sentence. His body goes rigid and his eyes jerk hard to the left. When he speaks again, his voice is the old Raymond's.

Like Seattle.

He's still exhausted. Still haunted. But he's Raymond.
My mother personally oversaw every aspect of the Prosperity project to insure that every detail of her vision was executed on properly. She chose each of the project managers herself and chaired regular status meetings with the architects and the builders, often visiting the work-site for surprise inspections.

Momma was driven to make the renewed, revitalized Walled City a success.
The subway car is silent as the crew absorbs the shift in the old man's demeanor.
{{GM}}Understanding dawns in the old man's tired eyes.{{/GM}}

You're missing a vital element of my mother's plan. The Walled City wasn't the Prosperity project.

Prosperity was the FORTUNE ENGINE I built at the *center* of the Walled City.

My special project.
Fortune Engine? What are you talking about?

{{GM}}You can see the frustration rising in Wu.{{/GM}}

You can't create fortune, Raymond.
{{GM}}Gobbet wrinkles her nose at him.{{/GM}}

It's Neo Feng Shui. The Masters of the craft can map the flow of qi and how it corresponds to different aspects in someone's life:

Fame, relationships, creativity, inner knowledge, health... and fortune.
The Fortune Engine was designed to improve the balance of qi in a negative-qi environment.
Like a slum.
{{GM}}Raymond corrects her.{{/GM}}

Like a low income housing project. I believed that with the Fortune Engine, the newly revitalized Walled City might never *become* a slum.
He drifts off for a moment, remembering. Then he squeezes his eyes shut and lowers his head.
But the machine... malfunctioned.
What was it supposed to do in the first place?
Something...

{{GM}}The old man's expression becomes confused and his lips move soundlessly for a moment.{{/GM}}

... s-s-something in Astral Space.
Wait a minute. How does a machine even *interact* with Astral Space?
{{GM}}Raymond takes the tone he often used when explaining a new concept. But this time, his explanation is halting and weary.{{/GM}}

Think of the Fortune Engine... as a sort of... propeller blade... moving through... through... Astral Space... circulating qi... keeping it...

{{GM}}He hunts for the word.{{/GM}}

...fresh...
When qi flows... when the rhythm is right... the results are positive.

Fortuitous.
When I brought my... proposal for a Fortune Engine to my mother, she... *embraced* it.

{{GM}}He exhales.{{/GM}}

She more than embraced it... she bankrolled it... put an entire *division* of Tsang Mechanical under me to develop it.
{{GM}}Raymond nods rapidly.{{/GM}}

The biggest of her career.

Momma said that if the machine could bring... fortune to the *less* fortunate... it would prove my theory...
{{GM}}Wu's jaw clenches.{{/GM}}

But that's not what happened, was it?

The people in the Walled City *didn't* benefit from your Fortune Engine, did they Raymond?
Answer the question, Raymond!
It got... stuck.

{{GM}}He doesn't raise his head.{{/GM}}

The mechanism I created to circulate negative qi in the Walled City got stuck.
{{GM}}Wu rubs his head viscously. You can see his patience giving out.{{/GM}}

Stuck on *what,* Raymond?
{{GM}}Wu leans in close - whispers harshly in his foster-father's face.{{/GM}}

Stuck on *what?*
{{GM}}Raymond winces at Wu's tone and stumbles back a step. But it does the job and the old man focuses.{{/GM}}

S-s-s... hhuuuhhh... s-something in a-Astral S-s-space... I wasn't sure what.
{{GM}}The old man's breathing begins to accelerate.{{/GM}}

The machine... started... *p-pooling* negative qi... and... the... the Walled City started to fill with it...
Then the pooling qi became toxic. Fortunes turned... b-bad. Then... they turned w-w-worse.

{{GM}}Raymond's shoulders slump.{{/GM}}

Momma's vision for a rebuilt... revitalized Walled City fell to ruin. It only took a few years... for the trapped toxic qi... to turn a brand new housing development into a hellish slum.
Epic corporate fail.
The Fortune Engine... causing th-thousands to suffer... m-miserably... that was a tragedy.

What we did next... was the true failure.
I couldn't! Something... hhhuuhhh... happened... p-p-p-part of the m-malf-f-f...function.

We couldn't turn it off.
Momma refused.
Because she's found a way to siphon good qi from the toxic qi in the Walled City. Remember what we found in the Matrix? The plans for some sort of leeching device?

*This* is what it's leeching.

Somehow, it's extracting good fortune from the Walled City and sending it to Tsang.
I never found out... she wouldn't tell me. She decided that it wasn't... worth spending the additional resources to figure out how to fix it.

Or even how to turn it off.
{{GM}}Words start spilling out of the old man.{{/GM}}

She sealed off the maintenance room... our engineers poured a...a...a...*sarcophagus* of thick concrete around it...

...so n-no one would ever find it... e-ever find out... ever find out... what we had done.
Yes.

{{GM}}His face flushes and he fidgets with the gauze bandage on his head.{{/GM}}

After that, I... left H-hong Kong... started a new life in Seattle...

Found you two.
Yes.

{{GM}}Raymond stands up straight, takes a shaky step towards Wu.{{/GM}}

Yes, Duncan. I was a coward.

And the guilt... the burden of my cowardice... gripped me like a vise that never loosens... it's eaten me from the inside for *twenty years.*
And then the nightmares began...

{{GM}}He licks his lips, tries to breathe.{{/GM}}

...horrible. Still, I kept working on the problem, night and day.
It took me years... even after you left... to suss... what to do.

But I figured it out.

And still the nightmares intensified... until... they became unbearable. I knew I had to come back. Fix what I had done.

That's why I contacted you - to help me see it through.
When the machine... malfunctioned... when the circulator became... stuck in Astral Space... it lodged in another... domain.

{{GM}}Raymond sways a bit and his lips tremble.{{/GM}}

And something lives there.
After twenty years of... c-constant force... the circulator finally tore a... a... *rift* in Astral Space... created an hole in *her* domain.

{{GM}}He swallows hard.{{/GM}}

The d-dreams... are c-coming from... *her.*
Yup. Not good.
Who is she, Raymond?

{{GM}}Wu growls his question.{{/GM}}

WHAT DID YOU DO?
Raymond shrinks from Wu's aggression.
I've *got* to go into W-w-w-walled City... find a way through the c-c-concrete barrier... find a way to r-reach the Fortune Engine.

{{GM}}The old man hugs himself. Begins rocking back and forth.{{/GM}}

I left prosperity in there.
I left prosperity in there.
I left prosperity in there.
Take a breath, Ray. Calm down.
{{GM}}Put a hand on Wu's chest.{{/GM}} Back off, Duncan.
Time for everyone to take a breath.
{{GM}}Wu ignores you. Snarls at his foster-father.{{/GM}}

There's a THING in there, little man. A thing *you* brought here!
{{GM}}Raymond stops his rocking. Becomes fully lucid. Snaps back at Wu.{{/GM}}

I *understand* that, Mr. Wu! That's why I came BACK!

{{GM}}The emotional strain of his own response rattles him again. His breathing gets faster, shallower.{{/GM}}

I know *what to do* now! How to e-e-extract the circulator! Shut the machine down... close the rift.
Why should we trust you *now?* You haven't exactly exhibited the best *judgment* in the world... Dad.

{{GM}}Wu throws up his hands in disgust. He turns to the wall of the subway car - begins slowly bouncing his forehead against it over and over.{{/GM}}

My god, Raymond. What is the MATTER with you?
You're... you're... you're shutting down again, Duncan.

{{GM}}Wu continues to bounce his forehead against the wall.{{/GM}}

Don't you ignore me, Duncan!

Duncan!
Raymond growls in anger and stalks to the opposite side of the train. He buries his head in his hands, begins rocking and muttering to himself again.
Whoa, family drama.
One punch each, guys. You know the drill.
Maybe some more ice cream will help.
Do I need to get the hose again? Do we need to go there again?
Seriously? Now's not a good time for this, guys.
This is exactly the sort of crap I had to put up with when I was a kid.
{{CC}}Biotech: 3{{/CC}} Raymond, I think your body is manufacturing too much adrenaline. You need to control your breathing. Practice your meditation.
Wu stops bouncing his head on the wall. Stands still with his back to the crew. Then a small chuckle begins somewhere deep inside him. Raymond joins him and the two men turn back to each other, laughing softly.
{{GM}}Wu's tone softens dramatically.{{/GM}}

I just realized why you were always so on edge all those years ago. Why you always seemed so... tortured.

You've been carrying this around the whole time.
That guilt is nothing... when I think of... what... the circulator... the... the... *rift*...

{{GM}}The old man's eyes open up big.{{/GM}}

More of them could get in. More like *her.*
Do you think that can happen?
Yes! Yes! The *possibility* exists... the.. machine... could be set to... overdrive the... circulator...

...tear the Astral rift... even wider...

...open the floodgates...
Okay, that sounds hideous.
{{GM}}The train comes to a stop. Is0bel looks up at the illuminated map above the door.{{/GM}}

We're here. Heoi. Let's head topside and figure out how we're gonna tackle this.
The old man places a hand on the subway car wall. He changes his posture. Raises his head. Takes a cleansing breath. After a few minutes, he recovers.
{{GM}}Wu looks down at your hand. Snarls at you.{{/GM}}

There's a THING in the Walled City, $(l.firstname). A thing *he* brought here!
IT GOT STUCK! That's what happened!

{{GM}}He grabs his head with both hands, squeezes his eyes shut.{{/GM}}

The mechanism to circulate negative qi in the Walled City got stuck.
{{GM}}His response is barely audible.{{/GM}}

It got stuck.

The mechanism I created to circulate negative qi in the Walled City got stuck.
I am.

I also have several advanced degrees... doctorates in Physics... Taoist Alchemy.

{{GM}}The old man shrugs shakily.{{/GM}}

My m-mother pushed me... hard... to reach my p-potential.
{{GM}}As you barge into the office, the lone scientist within leaps back to cower against the desk he was working at.{{/GM}}

Don't hurt me! Please!
{{GM}}A split second later, the scientist stands upright. An expression of profound shock spreads across his face, and he takes an involuntary half step toward Gaichu.{{/GM}}

Wait... It's... It's you! Saru!
{{GM}}The man's amazement is apparent in his voice, which barely rises above a whisper.{{/GM}}

Renraku management said you were dead, but I knew they were lying. But I didn't expect that you would be the one to answer my request.

This is a good omen, my friend.
{{GM}}Gaichu, in turn, seems just as surprised as the Renraku employee.{{/GM}}

Indeed, you were lied to. The shame the Red Samurai suffered due to their inability to kill me is undoubtedly something they wished to hide.

I am glad to see that you are well. But I am no longer 'Saru' - that code name is long gone. Now, I am Gaichu.
You know this man, Gaichu?
We're taking the drone. Step aside.
Yes. His name is Tanjiro Sasaki. A senior researcher, he has served Renraku for more than a decade.

{{GM}}Gaichu smiles faintly, waving a hand toward Tanjiro.{{/GM}}

Do you recall how I said I had guarded similar facilities? They were usually in service of protecting Tanjiro's projects.
{{GM}}Tanjiro is slowly relaxing, although the tremors in his hands indicate that adrenaline is still thick in his blood.{{/GM}}

It's true. And believe me - I can help you with what you're here for.
Listen, please! Just for one moment. My name is Tanjiro Sasaki, and I'm the one who hired you to come here.

We can help each other out!
Not quite. We're here for a few reasons.
We're here for the drone, and you don't look like one.
We're here to hunt Red Samurai. You have any experience doing that?
{{GM}}Tanjiro scowls.{{/GM}}

Your fixer got the job because I've arranged this. Why do you think it was so easy to get here?

You're here not just for the drone, but to fake someone's death. *My* death!
You'll get your drone. Your fixer got the job because I've arranged this. Why do you think it was so easy to get here?

I want out of Renraku, and this was the only way that I could devise that was foolproof enough. The second part of the contract is helping me fake my death.
No. But that doesn't mean I can't help you do it. Your fixer got the job because I've arranged this. Why do you think it was so easy to get here?

I want out of Renraku, and this was the only way that I could devise that was foolproof enough. The second part of the contract is helping me fake my death.
If a group of heavily armed shadowrunners break in here, it's completely believable that I would be killed in the process.

{{GM}}Tanjiro lets out a heavy sigh and wipes his brow.{{/GM}}

As of right now, I've suppressed the alarms. I can undo that, and once I've reached a safe distance I will. The Samurai will arrive just a moment too late to save the research, and me.
So we've already helped you. What can you do for us?
{{GM}}Threaten Tanjiro.{{/GM}} Maybe I need to rough you up a bit, just to be safe.
The Red Samurai team will rush to this building as soon as the alarms are released. I'll give you the code I wrote into my overwatch program.

Just use it on one of the security mainframes when you're ready. You'll have time to set up any ambush you like.
{{GM}}Cradling his chin in one hand, Gaichu's eyes narrow.{{/GM}}

Typically, we would send the main force in through the front, leaving one team member aside to flank the opposition. It would be advantageous for us to isolate one of them and pick them off before the main force engages us.
{{GM}}Tanjiro snaps his fingers suddenly, looking at Gaichu.{{/GM}}

You can use the quarantine room. It can be programmed to destroy contaminants, or apply lethal amounts of electricity. Regardless of which you pick, it should certainly kill anyone attempting to pass through it.
Yes... Yes, that could work.

{{GM}}Gaichu nods to you, expression bright.{{/GM}}

If we were to make the quarantine room look like the point of ingress, they would send at least one of the team there while the main squad utilized standard routes - namely, entering through the front door.
$(l.name)... We should let Tanjiro go. He has given us more than enough to accomplish the task at hand, and he is...a friend, of sorts.

I would be sorry if any harm came to him.
Okay. Get out of here, Tanjiro.
He's not leaving. He knows too much.
{{GM}}Tanjiro bows low.{{/GM}}

Thank you. You have no idea what it's been like, living under Renraku's thumb. You're giving me the chance to start again - hopefully with a better life.
{{GM}}He turns to face Gaichu, smiling faintly.{{/GM}}

And you... It's because of you that I found the strength to leave Renraku. That they couldn't find or kill you was a sign that I could escape as well.

I admired your tenacity. Your drive.
Thank you, Tanjiro. That means more to me than I think you know.

{{GM}}Gaichu points toward the door.{{/GM}}

Go. They'll be coming for us soon enough. I want you to be well out of here when they arrive.
Nodding, Tanjiro bolts toward the door.
What? But I've done everything I could to help you!

{{GM}}Tanjiro begins edging slowly away from you.{{/GM}}
Yeah, and if Renraku catches up with a traitor, they'll get our names and faces one way or another.
You're right. Leave before I change my mind.
{{GM}}Gaichu turns toward Tanjiro, shaking his head.{{/GM}}

You have my deepest sympathies, Tanjiro. But $(l.name) is right - for us to stay safe, we cannot leave any witnesses.

{{GM}}The ghoul slowly draws his sword, edge hissing against the saya.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Tanjiro shrinks back against the desk once again, hands instinctively raising to protect his face.{{/GM}}

No! No, you don't have to do that!
A small PDA sits on the table, the dull glow of the screen illuminating the surface around it. It does not appear to be locked.

Sitting next to the PDA is an unmarked keycard of some kind.
{{GM}}> Get ready to move.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}> Re: Get ready to move.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}> Can't delay.{{/GM}}
Vasilisa - We've got a window for the shipment. We're going to have to get to the harbor in the next few hours. Tell Galina and the others to pack up everything you've got and get ready to haul it through the storm drains toward the meeting spot.

We can't afford to miss this opportunity.
- Yaroslav
Hey, Yaroslav... Aleksandr's still not back from his scouting trip yet. He said he found a stockroom behind Mrs. Yang's Jade Mountain restaurant. There were also a bunch of keycards for it - belonged to some woman named Magpie. He's out through it now. We can't just leave him behind! Can't you delay this hand-off a few more hours?

-Vasilisa
You grab the keycard from the table. A hidden stockroom might be worth investigating.
No, Vasilisa, I can't delay the hand-off. The ship will leave when it leaves... If Aleksandr's not back in time to make it, it's his own damn fault.

Now get your crew in high gear and make sure we've got the goods by the time things are set!

-Yaroslav
Ingram Smartgun (Smartlink)
SMG: The professional street samurai's weapon of choice, with an integral Smartlink System.
Slow 1.0
Reduces AP of target by 1 for 2 RNDS.
Slowed: AP -1 per RND
Replacement Fuse
A rusty, but intact, low amp fuse. It looks like the blown out one in the pump, chances are it should work.
Stunbolt I
A stun spell which does -1 AP to the target.
This slender volume is appears to be written some form of archaic hanzi - no more than a few characters on each page. It's beautifully illuminated, and many of the symbols are recognizably taoist, but more primal. Barbed.

It almost looks like a version of the I Ching, but the margins are littered with daemonic symbols. If this is from the previous age of magic, then it comes from long before the I Ching was supposedly written.
A door lock with a keycard scanning feature.
{{GM}}Use keycard.{{/GM}}
The door opens with a thud.
Ceska Black Scorpion
Pistol: A common machine pistol. Has limited stopping power but fires bursts from a large clip.
The hell d'you think you're doing?
Oh, sorry. Is this not a public terminal?
What does it look like, asshole? Get out of here!
I don't know who you are, but you're in for a world of trouble, buddy.

SECURITY!
A quick look is all it takes to reveal that this terminal is an unnetworked workstation.

Sitting there all unattended and vulnerable, it's just asking - begging - to be hacked.
{{GM}}Have Is0bel hack the terminal.{{/GM}} Is0bel. You see what I see?
{{CC}}Decking: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Easy){{/CC}} {{GM}}Hack the terminal.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Is0bel smirks and raises her hands, wiggling her fingers in the air.{{/GM}}

It's weak. I've got this.
{{GM}}Within a matter of seconds, she's entered a string of commands and transferred several classified files onto a data stick, which she casually drops into your hand.{{/GM}}

It has been defeated. You're welcome.
The terminal contains several arcane marketing charts, each following trends in the Hong Kong real estate market. Probably worthless to anyone outside Tsang, but someone in here's bound to find the data useful.
Bound Earth Spirit
Explosive
Explode.
Cestus
Unarmed: Causes heavy bleeding to target on impact, with DMG of your Strength + 3. May do AP DMG on critical hits.
Venom Spit
A powerful spit of bug venom that does base 20 HP and also reduces the Body of a target by 2 for 3 rounds.
The apartment is no better than the hallway. Empty fast-food cups and packages of dried snack food are strewn about the room. In the corner, a box of cat litter sits filled to overflowing.

You don't see any cats.

There's a patched-together Matrix terminal sitting on a stack of crates, connected to a banged-up cyberdeck.
Within arm's reach of the cyberdeck is a twenty-something woman with pale white skin, dirty blond hair, and a bleak expression.
{{GM}}Emilie looks at the deck slung across Is0bel's back.{{/GM}}

So you're Is0bel, huh? I didn't expect...
A dwarf?

{{GM}}Is0bel coughs nervously.{{/GM}}

Yeah, I get that a lot.
No, no. I didn't expect you to be so pretty.

{{GM}}The woman has a soft German accent and a dour disposition.{{/GM}}
I should never have agreed to this, Is0bel.

{{GM}}She groans.{{/GM}}

I should never have even *responded* to your message. If the oligarch swine who've been hunting me find out where I am--
They won't find out from us.
They call me $(s.name). We should talk.
I understand that you have a way to bypass memory wipe headware.
Uh-huh.

{{GM}}Emilie searches your eyes with her own. You can see the intelligence in there but it's hard to get past her sullen manner.{{/GM}}
This is the $(l.man) I told you about.

$+(l.he) needs the software that you developed to inhibit your cortical implant.
$+(l.he) needs *what?*

{{GM}}Her tone is sharp. Her eyes flash daggers at Is0bel.{{/GM}}

I don't think I should be getting into this.
I tend to get what I want, Emilie. Understand?
I have a business proposition I'd like to discuss with you.
I need your help, Emilie.
{{GM}}Emilie's eyebrows raise.{{/GM}}

Wow, you're to-the-point, aren't you?

Well, you can save your intimidation tactics, okay?
{{GM}}She pulls out a near-empty pack of German cigarettes and lights the last one.{{/GM}}

In case you're not up on current events, I've got a kick-line of mercs and bounty hunters after me. Messing around with the headware that the Schockwellenreiter installed in me is the *last* thing on my mind.
{{CC}}Strength: 3{{/CC}} {{GM}}Strike a threatening pose.{{/GM}} Maybe I can give you something else to think about.
{{CC}}Charisma: 3{{/CC}} Look, this is important. I need the software you created so I can find out what happened to my father.
I'm not asking you to mess with your own headware. Just give me a copy of the software you developed so I can use it.
I think I can tell what the *first* thing on your mind is - nuyen. Am I right?
Did you read that in a comic book or something?

{{GM}}Emilie shakes her head in frustration.{{/GM}}

Fine. Whatever. If that's the tactic you're committed to, we might as well cut to the chase.
She grabs her cyberdeck and jacks into it. Her jaw goes slack and her fingers hover over the keyboard, tapping keys at a blinding speed. When she finishes, she jacks out and ejects a data stick from the deck.
Here.

{{GM}}She hands you the stick and a taser gun with masking tape wrapped around the grip.{{/GM}}

Modify this taser with it and use it on your target. The jolt should stop the memory wipe process before it starts.
I can do that.
That wasn't so hard, was it?
Sorry I had to do that. I'm desperate.
Just get out - and take *her* with you.

{{GM}}She turns away.{{/GM}}

You and I are done, Is0bel. Don't contact me again.
Join the party, pal.

{{GM}}She turns away.{{/GM}}

Just get out - and take *her* with you. You and I are done, Is0bel. Don't contact me again.
Your father, huh?

Sounds rough. Is he dead?
Yeah. And someone needs to pay for it.
Maybe. He's missing, that's for sure.
My brother doesn't think so.
I doubt it. At least I don't think he's dead yet. That's why this is important.
{{GM}}She brightens.{{/GM}}

Well, now you're talking revenge. *That's* a language I can speak.
Emilie grabs her cyberdeck and jacks into it. Her jaw goes slack and her fingers hover over the keyboard, tapping keys at a blinding speed. When she finishes, she jacks out and ejects a data stick from the deck.
That was simple.
{{CC}}¥500{{/CC}} Here's a little something for the effort.
Don't mention it.

{{GM}}She sighs.{{/GM}}

I wish every problem was that easy to solve.
For *me,* yeah.

{{GM}}She sighs.{{/GM}}

I wish every problem was that easy to solve.
Thanks. It'll help.

{{GM}}She sighs.{{/GM}}

I wish every problem was that easy to solve.
{{GM}}She softens.{{/GM}}

Been there - or something like there. It's the ambiguity that'll kill ya.

{{GM}}She considers for a moment.{{/GM}}

Okay, gimme a minute.
{{GM}}She nods knowingly.{{/GM}}

But *you're* not so sure, huh? Raw deal.

{{GM}}She considers for a moment.{{/GM}}

Okay, gimme a minute.
It's not that easy.

I can't just copy it - it's bound into the operating system of my headware, and the connections are too fiddly to mess with without risking a complete memory wipe.

Then where would I be?
I get it. Listen, I know a guy - name's Rhombus - who knows headware. I mean really *knows* headware.

He's the one who installed my head-storage - moved my Walled City memories over to it, too.

Rhombus can copy your spoof and he will, too - free of charge. He can probably make a few tweaks while he's in there to make *your* life easier too, Emilie.
No kidding?

{{GM}}Dreamland thinks for a moment.{{/GM}}

Sounds like a win, I guess. Gotta be better than this. Let's go see this Rhombus and get it done.
I'll have Rhombus modify a taser with Dreamland's cortical inhibitor software, $(l.name). The jolt should stop the Plastic-Faced Man's memory wipe process before it starts.

You'll be able to go to the information broker when you're ready.
Let me try extracting the software and copying it while you guide me in the Matrix, Dreamland.

{{GM}}Is0bel looks nervous but she puts on a good front for Emilie.{{/GM}}

Two deckers are better than one, right? And I have some experience with headware storage.
I don't know, Is0bel. This isn't a toaster we're talking about. It's headware containing my memories - containing *me.* We screw that up and who knows?
Is0bel's good, Emilie. You can trust her.
What've you got to lose, Emilie?
Nothing will go wrong.
Let's just jack in and see what we can see. Okay, Dreamland? We'll be in there together.
{{GM}}Is0bel looks Emilie in the eye.{{/GM}}

You're scared.
{{GM}}She looks around the room and her eye lands on the litter box.{{/GM}}

Aaw, fuck it. What's the worst that could happen?
{{GM}}Emilie looks around the room.{{/GM}}

Not... much.
The two women grab grab their cyberdecks and jack in. Both decker's jaws go slack and their fingers hover over their keyboards, tapping away at a blinding speed. When she finishes, Is0bel jacks out and ejects a data stick from the deck.

Emilie takes longer to eject. You can see her hand twitch as she pulls the plug from the datajack in her head.
{{GM}}Is0bel hands you the stick and shows you a taser.{{/GM}}

I'll modify the taser with this. You use it on the plastic guy. The jolt should stop the memory wipe process before it starts.

{{GM}}She looks over at Emilie.{{/GM}}

You okay? You look a little brain-fried.
Migraine. Bad.

{{GM}}Emilie rubs her temples, then pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. Her eyes have sunken into her head a bit.{{/GM}}

Hard to focus.
Just... let me sleep awhile.

{{GM}}She waves you off.{{/GM}}

You two got what you needed. Just go.
Nuyen's good.

{{GM}}Emilie's eyes take on a glassy sheen.{{/GM}}

Nuyen's always good. I've gotta get out of this place - maybe hit the mainland for awhile. With all the political chaos going on there, it should be easy to get lost and stay lost.
But... it's gonna take a lot of scratch to keep me safe from those mercenaries, even on the mainland. We're talking piles of nuyen.

Like, about ten thousand.
You gonna bankroll that? Because anything less would be useless to me.

The size of your bank account doesn't matter when you're dead.
{{CC}}Intelligence: 3{{/CC}} I'll do you one better. That software you developed sounds valuable... I know someone who can broker it for you.
{{CC}}Charisma: 3{{/CC}} You can survive on a hell of a lot less than that. I'll give you five thousand, no more.
{{CC}}¥10,000{{/CC}} {{GM}}Pay her.{{/GM}} If ten is what you need, ten is what you'll get.
That's way too rich for my blood. No deal.
That could mean some serious money. We'd have to rig up a vanishing SAN to dead-drop transfer my cut of the profits, but I think that we can make that work.

{{GM}}She pauses, considering.{{/GM}}

...Let's call it a 70/30 split, and I won't charge you anything up front.
Deal. Do it.
You drive a hard bargain.
Emilie grabs her cyberdeck and jacks into it. Her jaw goes slack and her fingers hover over the keyboard, tapping keys at a blinding speed.

When she finishes, she jacks out and ejects a data stick from the deck.
That wasn't hard at all.
Uh-huh.

I'll contact Is0bel, and we'll work out the rest of the details later.

Good luck with that software.
Not for me.

I'll contact Is0bel and we'll work out the rest of the details later.

Good luck with that software.
Deal.

{{GM}}She agrees quickly. Clearly desperate.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}¥5,000{{/CC}} {{GM}}Pay her.{{/GM}} Let's get this done.
{{GM}}Check your credstick.{{/GM}} Oh. I uh... don't actually have that kind of money. My bad.
Uh huh.

It was a pleasure taking your money. Good luck with that software.
Not for me.

It was a pleasure taking your money. Good luck with that software.
Then you've got a problem, because without money, I've got no incentive to give you anything.
I don't know, $(l.man). I'm kinda done with the business.
That's great, $(l.name). Now, go away.

I got my own problems to deal with.
{{GM}}Is0bel clears her throat.{{/GM}}

Emilie, this is $(l.name), the person I told you about. $+(l.he) needs the software you developed to inhibit your cortical implant.

$+(l.he) can also be kind of blunt.
Yes. I can see that.

{{GM}}Her tone is sharp. Her eyes flash daggers at Is0bel.{{/GM}}
No weapon. Weak hands. No choices.
Strangler Bao stands like a granite pillar in the smoky mahjong parlor, muscular arms folded across his chest.

As you approach, his eyes light up with hatred. He stares at you, breathing heavily. Then he masters himself. His shoulders relax, and he settles into glowering coldness.
Strangler Bao stands impassively, muscular arms folded across his chest. The low noise and stale smell of the mahjong parlor seem to glance off him, like rain off a granite statue.

He acknowledges you with a nod. A quarter of an inch.
{{GM}}His rumbling bass voice seems to vibrate the floorboards.{{/GM}}

We have a problem.
Maximum Law.

{{GM}}Bao says it as if it explains everything.{{/GM}}

He's been talking in the Matrix about your jobs. It's drawing attention. Kindly wants him shut up.
Law's been gossiping? That's not good.
Ah, whatever. He's an excitable techie.
I've noticed... I've been meaning to handle that.
I like having a fierce reputation.
You're right. It's not good.
Law isn't being discrete. He needs to be discrete.

{{GM}}Bao leans forward just a little, shifting onto the balls of his feet. Like a tilting slab of concrete.{{/GM}}

Your job is to fix the situation.
Don't bother finding me when you're done, unless there's something to clean up. I've got better things to do with my time.

{{GM}}He eyes you skeptically.{{/GM}}

Any questions?
What do you mean by "fix the situation"?
Why doesn't the Yellow Lotus handle this?
Seems ironic that you're handling this.
Law's got leverage. He's Whampoan.
Forget it. This isn't my fight.
I'll take care of it.
Just make him shut up. What happens to Law doesn’t matter to anyone.

He has no family here. No standing.
We are.

{{GM}}Bao smirks.{{/GM}}

Did you forget? You're an instrument of the Yellow Lotus.
{{GM}}Bao's gaze doesn't flicker.{{/GM}}

Just take care of it, $(L.name).
Leverage?

He's entry-level. The Whampoans recruit a lot of fresh meat, and cull out those who are unfit.

*We* are the ones who have pull with Whampoa. Law pushes a wheelbarrow.
{{GM}}Bao glares at you darkly.{{/GM}}

I can't force you to do this... but if you don't handle this, I will. You may not like that.
All right, I'll take care of it.
Go ahead. I'm washing my hands of this.
Don't think about it too long.
You better. This needs to be solved *immediately.*

{{GM}}Bao regards you with glacial animosity.{{/GM}}

If you kill him, do it *quietly.* On the boat. No upsetting the neighborhood. If that's possible, for you.
Yeah, yeah, I've got it covered.
I'll take care of it, Mr. Bao.
You sure you don't want to come along? We can all have a big laugh together. He's into video games, too.
You better.
{{GM}}Bao stares at you with pure, patient malevolence.{{/GM}}

Someday, $(L.name)... we'll finish what we started.
If you need to kill him. Don't make a neighborhood scene. That upsets people. Do this like you're from here. Respectful of the peace.

It may be difficult... you'll probably need to do it on that boat of his. He almost never leaves it.
This needs to be handled soon.

{{GM}}Strangler Bao grunts and nods almost imperceptibly, as if to signal the end of the conversation.{{/GM}}

Thank you, $(L.name). Your skill is appreciated.
Goodbye, Mr. Bao.
As is your protection. Good day, Mr. Bao.
Save the flowery words, Bao. I'm just doing a job.
He's got a big mouth and underdeveloped sense of consequences.
Good, but you've been slow.
This is Hong Kong, not Seattle. A good reputation here is also a quiet reputation.

Even in that hole you come from, having your name openly linked to crimes must be bad.
{{GM}}Bao stares at you with cold animosity.{{/GM}}

What do you want?
You had an urgent problem. You emailed me.
Let's hang out... play video games. Flash each other sweet gang signs.
Nevermind.
Perhaps "urgent" is too complex a Cantonese word for you. You're late.

Maximum Law was spreading information about your jobs in the Matrix.
The problem has been solved.
{{GM}}Bao turns away.{{/GM}}

This conversation is over.
{{GM}}Bao's eyes widen with hate.{{/GM}}

Someday, $(L.name), we'll finish this.
Perhaps "urgent" was too complex a Cantonese word for you.

Maximum Law was spreading information about your jobs in the Matrix. The problem is now *solved.*
$(l.name).

{{GM}}Bao gives you only the briefest glance, and grunts in dismissal.{{/GM}}

I see you got my message. We had something to take care of, but you're late. Maximum Law was spreading information about your jobs in the Matrix.
I've handled it.
How did you handle it?
{{GM}}Bao doesn't reply. He appears to be lost in his thoughts.{{/GM}}
He has moved on to someplace else.
Did you kill him?
Good for him.
{{GM}}Bao's expression is inscrutable - a perfect poker face.{{/GM}}

No. But you will not see him again.
Melee: Basically, a sharp piece of metal with a handle. May do AP DMG on a critical hit.
Totem Coat
Lets others know that your totem is power. Grants +1 Spellcasting, +1 Conjuring, and +1 Spirit Control.
Killing Hands
Passive: Unarmed DMG increased by 3. Active: Unarmed DMG increased by a further 4 for 3 RNDS.
Killing Hands: DMG +7
Rip and Tear
Koschei's sharp legs latch on and tear armor away from the target. Strips 4 Armor.
Sawed-Off Benelli
Shotgun: A low-end, all-purpose shotgun, with the last few inches of the barrel sawed off.
Vision Magnification Eyes (Basic)
Renraku's basic cybereye replacements extend and enhance your vision. Passive: +3% to hit.
A Renraku-made infiltration suit with reinforced ballistic protection.
>>User: Dr. Hardingham, I.

Ares Asia Holdings wishes you a productive day.
{{GM}}Power Output{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Drone Integration{{/GM}}
Preliminary reports aren't good. We can miniaturize the aperture and emission array from the MP Laser III, and it's definitely possible to get down to a handheld size, but that's never been a problem.

Energy density is the core concern. Our batteries just aren't up to snuff if we shrink them down to pistol size.
Without the MP Laser III's battery pack, we'll be lucky if we ever find a way to break six or seven shots. It's a terrible problem, and one the boys over in Materials Science have been dragging their feet on.

I've been checking into using some of the new dual-phase batteries, but the cost seems prohibitive.
I've made a note to Director Hui asking if we could get some help from Ares Arms Europe - the Firelance research team's made a great deal of headway using staged graphene capacitors. Maybe there's something we could learn from them.

-Hardingham
{{GM}}There is a note attached from Knight-Errant security.{{/GM}}

Dr. Hardingham, it's our belief that the troll we recorded is interested in the research you and Dr. Taylor are undertaking. As such, we will be providing extra security for your off-site team building exercise. Please be extremely careful when not within the facility - your research and person are under threat at the moment.
{{GM}}These appear to be Dr. Hardingham's notes on attaching the prototype to security drones.{{/GM}}

>> Things proceed apace. Assuming a standard medium drone like the Inquisitor or Rover 9230 models, the drone provides sufficient power to enable the prototype effectively unlimited bursts, though there's a thirty second charge time if the capacitors are drained rapidly. The small size of the emitter lens also means that the prototype can be mounted modularly or internally as the platform dictates.
>> For smaller drone sizes, the output is more restricted but still valuable - charge times increase to between two and five minutes assuming standard battery power. This does, unfortunately, reduce the drones loiter time. Each shot reduces the loiter time by approximately two and a half minutes - more than enough for a sustained engagement, but something we'll want to keep an eye on.
>> I believe we can increase efficiency in these cases by including a supercooling medium - liquid nitrogen or the like - to reduce the heat pump's draw from the power systems. Maybe something like we worked out for the Sentinel P Series berths.

-Dr. Hardingham
{{GM}}>Re: You killjoy!{{/GM}}
{{GM}}>Cheating bastard!{{/GM}}
{{GM}}>Re: Leaking vent.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}>Re: PUB TIME!!1!{{/GM}}
>> Taylor, I don't think you're taking this security breach seriously enough. A bloody troll tried to waltz into the building not just once, but twice. He beat up some of the bullyboys downstairs, and he's definitely after our work. And you want to waltz off to the pub like nothing's happened? At least go in a group, man!

-Hardingham
>> Listen, I don't know how you managed to beat me in that last game, but I know you're cheating. All the data checks out, but I can't believe your aim's suddenly gotten so much better than mine. When I find out what hack you cooked up, you're going to owe me fifty nuyen. Either that, or your characters are all going to be wearing bright green lime costumes from now on.

-Hardingham
>> Dr. Taylor, we appreciate your concern about the threat neutalization system leaking from your office air vent. Your safety - and the safety of the lab - are our topmost priorities. Until we can get maintenance to inspect the valve, you can access the security control for Vent 3 via the matrix. The Blocker IC code is c0rt3xFRZ.

Should any further leaks occur, please contact us again.

-Security Director Deng.
>> Okay, Taylor. If you've gotten eight people AND a bodyguard together for a pint or two after we have our meeting, I'm game. Sorry about being so testy earlier. I just don't relish the idea of being beaten to a bloody pulp by some trog with an interest in my research.

-Hardingham
An ancient Matrix terminal with a cracked case lies splayed out in front of you. Improbably, the screen winks to life at your approach.
Bingo. I can use this to arm the scuttling charges and sink the raft.
Good. Let's make it happen.
Hold action on that, Is0bel. I just wanted to look at the thing, not arm the bombs.
{{GM}}Gobbet leans in to inspect the terminal. She lifts a patch of exposed wiring with a fingernail.{{/GM}}

Reminds me of your computer back on the $(story.Global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName), Izz.
Please. The weakest component of the Octopus would put this thing to shame.
{{GM}}She looks up at you.{{/GM}}

This is going to be a two-stage process. I'm going to need to take control of the raft's power supply, and then route that power into the remaining charges. Once that's done, I'll arm them and we can send this thing to the bottom of the bay.
{{GM}}She claps Is0bel on the shoulder.{{/GM}}

Sounds good to me! I'll be here to provide moral support.
It's going to be trickier than it sounds, and it'll take time.

I'll need you two to watch my back while I'm doing it.
{{CC}}Decking: 1, Cyberdeck{{/CC}} I've got a better idea. I'm jacking in. You and Gobbet watch *my* back.
We're on it.
Changed my mind. Step away from the terminal, Izz.
{{GM}}She reaches for her rifle.{{/GM}}

If that's the way you want to play it.
One more thing. This isn't going to be quick, or quiet.

When you've taken control of the ship's power, we're going to see fluctuations here in the real world. Doors locking, flickering lights, that kind of thing.
...Meaning that the Rat King will see it, too.
Right. So be ready.

We're going to have a fight on our hands.
{{CC}}Decking: 1, Cyberdeck{{/CC}} {{GM}}Jack into the Sinking Ship's Matrix server.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Have Is0bel jack into the Sinking Ship's Matrix server.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Step Away.{{/GM}} Let's hold off on this for now.
One more thing. This isn't going to be quick, or quiet.

Once I've taken over the main power, you're going to see fluctuations here in the real world. Doors locking, flickering lights, that kind of thing.
Hey, your call. Just... make a decision and stick to it, okay?

This raft is a deathtrap, and I wanna go home.
All right, if that's what you want.
The Matrix terminal sputters and sparks as water drips onto it from above.
Let's arm these bombs. We're sinking this raft, and we're doing it now.
All right. This is going to be a two-stage process.

I'm going to need to take control of the raft's power supply, and then route that power into the remaining charges. Once that's done, I'll arm them and we can send this thing to the bottom of the bay.
Class S Drone Mortar
Vision Magnification Eyes (Alpha)
Renraku's state-of-the-art alpha cybereye with magnification enhancement. Passive: +6% to hit.
You hear laughter before you reach the podium. Three men, two elders and a young man, are engrossed in a game of Go.

The two older men are pitched against each other - a friendly rivalry. They seem relaxed, carefree. The young man studies their game, occasionally nodding his head.
{{GM}}One of the players, a round, cheerful man, notices you watching their game.{{/GM}}

Why, hello young $(l.man). Something you need?

{{GM}}A broad smile brightens his cheeks.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The other elder jabs a finger toward the first.{{/GM}}

No, Shyu! We are going to *finish* this. And we can't blame those dreams for our endless game now that they're gone. No excuses, no interruptions!
{{GM}}Shyu's cheeks flush red, and he looks a little embarrassed.{{/GM}}

Please excuse me, but my friend here is being most insistent.

Alright, Gin, it's your turn...
{{GM}}The young man breaks eye contact with the game to glance your way.{{/GM}}

This game is very important to us. Perhaps come back some other time when we are otherwise less engaged.
Sure.
Game looks boring anyway.
Maybe if I'm in the area. Good luck.
As you approach the small landing, you see three men - two elders and a younger man - hunched over a Go board.

The juxtaposition of the two white-haired, white-bearded men and the black-haired man is almost comical; together, the three resemble the small black and white stones of their game.
Despite the variety of ambient distractions, the three men remain acutely focused on the game. One of the elders, a round-faced man with a beatific smile, carefully picks up a black stone and places it on the board. His opponent snorts, and a small smile flashes across his long face. Almost carelessly, he snatches a white stone and deposits it on the board.

The smiling man groans, and the long-faced one proceeds to collect several black pieces off the board.
Ahh. You got me there, Gin.

{{GM}}He laughs - a pleasant, full sound. As it trails off, he spots you watching the game. A broad smile brightens his cheeks.{{/GM}}

Why, hello there, young $(l.man). Something you need?
{{GM}}The long-faced man gives you a cursory look, and continues to collect black stones.{{/GM}}

Just a gawker, Shyu. It's your turn.
The name's $(s.name). Got a second for a question?
Don't mind me, I was just watching the game. See you around.
{{GM}}Shyu nods.{{/GM}}

I could use a short break. How about you, Gin?
{{GM}}Gin sighs, shoulders slumping forward. After a moment of scowling, he reluctantly speaks.{{/GM}}

Fine. A *short* break.

{{GM}}The two elders turn toward the younger man.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}He looks to be in his early thirties, but it's difficult to tell. The skin on his face is smooth and supple, with only the suggestions of creases at the eye, mouth, and forehead. But small gestures - a blink, a flare of his nostrils - briefly reveal the lines of his face.

The man's eyes rise from the Go board and study the elders. He nods.{{/GM}}
Been having any strange dreams recently? I hear that it happens around here.
I'm guessing you've been around these parts longer than I have. Is this sort of thing... normal?
Thanks. Good luck with your game.
{{GM}}The three men exchange looks. Shyu turns to you.{{/GM}}

What a coincidence. Wasn't but an hour ago that we were all discussing that very thing.

We have been having bad dreams. Every one of us.
Interesting. You mind sharing?
Tell me about them.
I've had them, myself. We should compare notes. What did you dream about?
{{GM}}Gin shakes his head and crosses his arms.{{/GM}}

What makes you think we'd be comfortable sharing our dreams with a complete stranger? Seems like a good way to get ourselves in trouble... 'specially with what you kids can do with that Matrix you all love so much.

{{GM}}He turns his head. Pretends to spit.{{/GM}}

Peh!
{{GM}}Gin huffs angrily.{{/GM}}

You can't come in here demanding this and that of us! Show some respect to your elders, young $(l.man).

Just what makes you think we'd be comfortable telling a stranger about our dreams, anyway?
Is that right?

{{GM}}Gin leans in. Stares at you.{{/GM}}

Can't say I'm comfortable giving a stranger details about my dream.
{{GM}}Shyu waves his hand dismissively at Gin.{{/GM}}

Don't mind him. He's always been a poor sport.

But he raises a good point... some of our dreams contain information best left private - just as yours do, I'm sure. Having just met, how can we be sure that you'll respect our personal information?
I'll tell you.

{{GM}}The younger man's voice cuts through the din like a razor, and the elders fall silent. He turns to you and he locks his eyes - dark orbs that burn with piercing scrutiny - onto yours.

He nods, and returns his gaze to the Go board.{{/GM}}

I believe you're trustworthy. Please, $(l.name), make yourself comfortable. I'll share my dream with you.
I'm listening.
I appreciate it. Go ahead.
Whenever you're ready.
{{GM}}He exhales slowly, then begins speaking.{{/GM}}

I dreamed of a long, dingy hall. When faced with such a thing, one generally walks its length, so I lifted my right foot and placed it in front of me. But upon taking that first step, I found myself instead drawn down an alleyway to my left.

It wasn't there before, this alley. It appeared only as began to walk.
As I moved down the alley, I found myself surrounded by friends and loved ones. They they all stood there, silently watching me with smiles on their faces. And as I passed each one of them, they fell to the ground in my wake, dropping like puppets with severed strings.

Somehow, I knew that if I followed this road to the end, I could have everything I'd ever dreamed of. But I woke before I could reach it.

{{GM}}He folds his hands in his lap.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}There's a moment of silence before Shyu speaks up, the rosiness in his cheeks having drained away.{{/GM}}

I, too, saw the long hall. My own experience was different, however. The hall was far off in the distance, and I was looking down on it from a strange angle... as though I were perched on a wall high above.
{{GM}}He pauses and looks at you.{{/GM}}

You know, young $(l.man)... *$(l.name)*... you look very much like the person I saw walking that hall.

$+(l.he) moved steadily down the path, walking at an even pace. And just behind $(l.him), a great and terrible shadow followed.
Of course, I didn't have the best view up there on that wall, or... wherever I was. It could have been anyone. Perhaps this old mind of mine is seeing your face now, and misremembering the dream.

{{GM}}He lets out a chuckle, and a small flush of red returns to his cheeks. He looks over at Gin.{{/GM}}

Alright, Gin. Go ahead.
{{GM}}Gin broods in his corner, arms crossed and jaw set.{{/GM}}

I've changed my mind. I don't want to share my dream.
Nonsense! Master Lau and I have both told $(l.him) our dreams. And now it's your turn.
{{GM}}Gin sticks out his lower lip.{{/GM}}

No.
It's fine. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.
I don't want to force you to do anything.
Spit it out already!
I think I've heard enough. Thanks for sharing.
{{GM}}He holds his palm up toward you and looks at Shyu.{{/GM}}

See? Straight from the horse's mouth! I don't *have* to.
Gin.

{{GM}}Lau's voice is firm, but soft.{{/GM}}

This is important.
{{GM}}Gin's mouth opens and closes like a gasping fish. But as he looks at Lau, his body relaxes, and a sadness seems to take hold of his features.{{/GM}}

All right... all right. But don't you go repeating any of this, you hear me?

{{GM}}He takes in a deep breath, and slowly releases it. Folds his hands in his lap.{{/GM}}
My dream began as a nightmare. I dreamed of the failures and mistakes that I've made throughout my life. The people I've let down, the competitors I've crushed, the wife who died in hospice without me.

I dreamed of the family that I abandoned.
{{GM}}A change comes over him. His eyes brighten, and he continues energetically.{{/GM}}

But then... *then* I dreamed of the Walled City. I stood before it, and its door opened to me, and when I passed inside, all of my guilt fell away.

It was as though the city had absolved me, had washed away my guilt! And I remember feeling *happy.*
{{GM}}As his remembrance ends, so does his lightened mood. His face shrinks into a pout, and he stares grumpily at the ground.{{/GM}}

There, I did it. You happy?
{{GM}}Lau nods slowly.{{/GM}}

Thank you, Gin.
You have my thanks, too.
That was great. And don't worry, I won't abuse your personal information. Promise.
All said and done, this was pretty boring. But who knows - this might be helpful later on.
Yeah, yeah.

Now can we change the subject? My ulcer's acting up.
{{GM}}He mutters something about a lazy generation and no appreciation, and then he waves you away.{{/GM}}

Let's change the subject. My ulcer's acting up.
{{GM}}His jaw drops. He tuns his head to Lau, eyes wide.{{/GM}}

Did you *hear* that? Such disrespect!

Those sorts of ill manners don't deserve a response.
If it were normal, we wouldn't be huddled around discussing them in whispers now, would we?
Enough of that, Gin. $(l.name) here asked in earnest for our advice. $+(l.he) deserves a proper response.

{{GM}}Shyu gives you a gentle smile.{{/GM}}

Please forgive our friend. Bitter years have left him suspicious of others.
The answer to your question is no. Upsetting dreams have never been uncommon in Heoi, but these recent visitations have been different. They've been darker, more vivid, *stronger* than normal dreams.

Last night, I felt consumed by the sense that something was *coming.* While my friends here felt a sense of relief and excitement as their dreams ended, I felt as though I were sitting on the precipice of some vast and terrible chasm, with the void yawning beneath my feet.
{{GM}}Suddenly, his cheeks flush. He blinks twice, then looks away.{{/GM}}

...But perhaps these are just the ramblings of an old man. Please forgive me.

{{GM}}He scratches his nose, embarrassed.{{/GM}}
You speak wisely, Shyu.

It is foolish to embrace a thing that you do not understand. What Gin and I saw in our dreams was alluring, but so is the light to a moth.

Your instincts are still strong and sharp, my old friend. It is wise of you to trust them.
{{GM}}Shyu bows deeply, his eyes to the ground.{{/GM}}

Thank you... I can only hope these dreams do lead to something beautiful. There's already enough deception in this world.
{{GM}}Gin groans loudly.{{/GM}}

Can we get back to the game now?
I don't want to keep you.
Looks like break's over.
I've gotta head out, too.
Of course. Stop by again sometime soon, $(l.name). Your company has been refreshing.
It seems that way. Stop by again sometime soon, $(l.name).
Of course. Take care, $(l.name). And if you find some time on your hands, you're always welcome at our game table.
Appreciated, young $(l.man). We'll be seeing you.
Why, if it isn't the young one from before.
{{GM}}Gin glances up at you, then returns to the game.{{/GM}}

Bah. Can't you see we're busy?
{{GM}}Shyu shakes his head at his friend.{{/GM}}

You never mind him. Is there something else you need?
The three men are once again fixated on their game board, and the Go game in progress between them.

Gin rubs his hands together nervously, his face twisted in concentration. It appears that Shyu now has the upper hand.

The silence of the game is deafening. Amateur players would be filling the air with clicks and clacks of the stones against the wooden playing board, relentlessly trying to outdo one another. These men are different.
Shyu picks up a small black stone and his hand reaches over the board. It pauses.

Gin stares at his hand, suddenly still. Shyu begins to lower the stone. Down, down... Gin is practically on his toes. And then...

Shyu pulls his hand back.
Hmm, perhaps not *there*.

{{GM}}He strokes his short beard thoughtfully.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Gin tosses his arms into the air, nearly knocking over the playing board.{{/GM}}

Damnit, Shyu! When you start a move, you *commit to it.*

I swear, if you're doing this on purpose...
Friends.

{{GM}}Lau interrupts the players.{{/GM}}

We have a visitor.
The two players look up. Gin sighs and holds his face in one hand. Mutters something beneath his breath.

Shyu's eyes fix on you. He stares, unspeaking. His generous smiles and playfulness from before are absent.
Sorry to interrupt. I was just wondering if you're all still having the dreams.
I've gotta run. See you.
*This* again? Don't you have anything better to do?
Yes, we're all still having the dreams.

{{GM}}Lau's voice is calm, but troubled.{{/GM}}

However...
They've gotten a hell of a lot worse.

{{GM}}Gin shifts uncomfortably.{{/GM}}

Look, let's not go into detail.
Anything would be great.
But this information could help others.
I'm not leaving until you tell me what you saw.
{{GM}}He mulls this over.{{/GM}}

Alright. But afterward, you have to let us finish our game.
I can't make any promises.
Whatever.
{{GM}}He nods approvingly, then glances at Lau and Shyu before continuing.{{/GM}}

Our dreams have become, ahh... unpleasant, so to say. Darker. Violent.

{{GM}}He runs his hand along his tightly-cropped beard.{{/GM}}
Not all that healthy, if you ask me. Especially for men of our age!

We come out of them in a daze, sometimes. Feels like we've been punched in the senses.

And the imagery...
{{GM}}You can see him shiver as he thinks about it.{{/GM}}

Well, I said no details. So no details.

That about sum it up, Shyu? Master Lau?
I have nothing more to add. Shyu?
{{GM}}Shyu's eyes bore into you.{{/GM}}

No. Nothing.
Is everything alright, Shyu? You've been staring at me for a while.
You seem upset. Is something wrong?
What? Do I have something on my face?
Shyu continues to stare at you, his face pale. He opens his mouth. Closes it. He seems to be struggling to find words.
What's wrong with you, Shyu? You'd better not be having a stroke - we're in the middle of a game!
{{GM}}If Shyu heard Gin, he doesn't show it. He looks at you, and his eyes widen.{{/GM}}

You need to go faster.

{{GM}}His voice is urgent, pleading.{{/GM}}

The shadows that follow you are getting closer.
Excuse us, $(l.name). Our friend is tired.

{{GM}}Lau clasps a hand on Shyu's shoulder, who doesn't seem to notice.{{/GM}}

These dreams have taken a toll on all of us. Please come back some other time.
Understood. Take care.
Sorry, I didn't mean to upset anyone. Enjoy your game.
I've got things to do anyway.
I'll hold you to it all the same.

{{GM}}He glances at Lau and Shyu before continuing.{{/GM}}

Our dreams have become, ahh... unpleasant, so to say. Darker. Violent.

{{GM}}Runs his hand along his tightly-cropped beard.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}He points at you.{{/GM}}

I can see right through that ennui of yours, young $(l.man). Trying to appear "cool" and "hip" - well, you don't need to play it up here. We're already unimpressed.
{{GM}}Lau clears his throat.{{/GM}}

You were saying...
As I was *saying"...

{{GM}}He gives Lau a sideways look.{{/GM}}

The deal is: I give you information, and you take yourself and that hipster charade of yours back to your friends.
Tell me, and I'll get out of your hair.
Nah. I'm outta here.
If I tell you, will you go away?
I don't make deals with terrorists!

You best plunk your butt down, because it's that sort of attitude that'll get you a heaping spoonful of nothing from your seniors.

{{GM}}He harrumphs, and that's that.{{/GM}}
You can't do that!
Are you hearing this guy, Lau?
Whatever. I'm out.
Gin pinches his thumb and index finger together, and mimes zipping his mouth shut.

Apparently, he can.
I didn't need your help anyway.
{{GM}}Lau raises both his hands.{{/GM}}

I'm in agreement with Gin. You've gone too far, $(l.name).

I suggest you take a moment to collect yourself.
Jeeze, you fogies are sensitive. *Fine.*
{{GM}}Gin frowns.{{/GM}}

Look who's back. Why don't you go egg a car or something and leave us alone?
I, for one, enjoy $(l.name)'s visits.

{{GM}}A hint of a smile touches Lau's lips as Gin grumbles to himself.{{/GM}}

How can we help you?
You approach the small landing, and something immediately feels off. The normal energy surrounding the podium is different - tense.

The three men are gathered close together, hunched over the Go board, and murmuring in low voices. You realize that no one is playing. The pieces are set, and it looks like a game's in progress, but something else has the players' rapt attention.
Suddenly, Lau seems distracted. He straightens up, and his hands reach around to press on the small of his back. He seems surprised by something, and his hands quickly fall to his sides. Lau looks away from his companions and sees you watching their powwow.

He signals for you to move closer.
Oh, just what we need.

{{GM}}Gin rubs his temples in an exaggerated display.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Shyu's eyes eagerly seek you out, and land on your face with silent relief. He gives you a shy smile.{{/GM}}

Welcome back, $(l.name).
Just wanted to check in and see how your dreams are going.
Hope you old bones aren't spreading gossip.
You look busy. I'll leave you alone.
{{GM}}An eerie mood sweeps over the three men, their previous energy replaced with uncomfortable stillness. The men's moods appear to shift between fear and sadness.

A silent minute passes before Lau speaks.{{/GM}}

I'm surprised you haven't heard. These dreams have taken someone's life - a local man.
I know. I was there. Why else do you think I came here? Had to check and see how you dreamers are doing.
I might've heard something about that...
What do you know?
No, no. Nothing like that. It's related to our dreams, actually... Your timing is perfect.

{{GM}}He holds his beard thoughtfully, a mischievous look to him.{{/GM}}

Or have you been lurking behind a buoy, waiting for the right moment to pop out and feed the dramatic tension of the moment?
{{GM}}A short laugh, like a single punch to the gut, bursts out of Gin.{{/GM}}

There's no way this whelp has that sort of grace.
{{GM}}Shyu shrugs.{{/GM}}

You never know. Seems like something I might have tried in my youth.
Not my style. So, exactly what about the dreams were you three discussing?
{{GM}}Their expressions sober, humor replaced with uncomfortable stillness. The men's moods appear to shift between fear and sadness.

A silent minute passes before Lau speaks.{{/GM}}

I'm surprised you haven't heard. These dreams have taken someone's life - a local man.
Your kindness is appreciated. We are doing well enough, though we're struggling with this new reality the dreams have presented us.

{{GM}}His voice drops.{{/GM}}

It must have been something horrific to witness that man's death. To think, he likely had his whole life in front of him, and just like that... he's destroyed by his dreams.
I'm sure you have. Word has spread quickly about the incident.

They say he was raving about the dreams before he died. To think, a man taken in his prime like that...
{{GM}}Lau's face remains a mask of placidity, but his his dark eyes betray his distress.{{/GM}}

We'd all do well to remember that this world is filled with dangers. For many of us outside the Walled City, it can be easy to forget threats beyond sickness and age.
Very little. Only that the man was raving about his dreams before he died.

{{GM}}Lau's face remains a mask of placidity, but his his dark eyes betray his distress.{{/GM}}

We'd all do well to remember that this world is filled with dangers. For many of us outside the Walled City, it can be easy to forget threats beyond sickness and age.
{{GM}}Gin and Shyu nod grimly to themselves. Shyu picks up the subject.{{/GM}}

News of the Walled City often falls on ears deaf to its blights. Very few people from outside the city care about what happens behind its walls. But, as of late, it's become harder to ignore. People are starting to *see* the city.
And it's a damn wretched sight.

There's a darkness living at the heart of that place, uncontent to remain where it is. It's reached its toxic hands over the city's walls and is now poisoning us outsiders. Even *killing* us.
The attack was subtle. It infected us through our dreams, and now...

{{GM}}Lau raises his right hand. Opens and closes it. He turns it over and stares at the veins snaked beneath the skin's surface.{{/GM}}

We are changing.
I feel it as well, Master Lau. Different somehow.

{{GM}}Gin smashes his fist onto the Go board, disturbing the tiny stones.{{/GM}}

That city should've been bulldozed years ago!
{{GM}}Shyu's voice is sad, but soothing.{{/GM}}

You know well as I that such a thing isn't possible. People live there - *thousands* of them - and they'd have nowhere to go.
{{GM}}He sighs.{{/GM}}

I feel it, too. The change. But what we're changing into, I don't know. It's just like in my dream... We're sitting on the threshold of something great. Great, and horrible.

$(l.name), if you can get to the bottom of this, there'll be more than just us Go players eager to thank you. But, please. *Hurry.*
I'll do everything I can. Hang in there.
I'll try, but don't get your hopes up. What you're asking is a lot.
We'll see.
{{GM}}Gin sighs.{{/GM}}

Kids these days.
{{GM}}Shyu chuckles.{{/GM}}

$(l.name). Long time, no see.
You hear the laughter before you reach the podium. The three men are, as usual, engrossed in the game before them. You can see the tall figure of Lau studying the board, and Shyu laughing as Gin pouts in his corner.

The only tension in the air is between Shyu and Gin - mostly Gin. But despite their ongoing rivalry, they both seem relaxed, carefree. Like the weight of a great burden has finally disappeared, allowing them to savor the thing that makes them happy.
This game isn't over yet, you old fart! You just watch, I'll make a comeback so beautiful that it'll make you *weep.*

{{GM}}Gin stomps his foot for emphasis. Or... maybe out of frustration.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}You clear your throat.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The men's gazes all fall onto you at once. An array of emotions pass through them - from Gin's eye rolls to Lau's stalwart nod.

Shyu clasps his hands together, cheeks flooding with red.{{/GM}}

Ahh, $(l.name)! I've the urge to hug you, but I doubt these old bones could withstand your embrace. So good of you to visit us old men again.
Had any dreams lately?
I've gotta ask: why do you two keeping calling Lau "master"? You're his seniors.
Take care, you old coots.
{{GM}}Shyu leans forward.{{/GM}}

I have.
{{GM}}Gin and Lau look nervously at him. Shyu continues.{{/GM}}

Its was... It was terrible. Even worse than before.

I was standing here, and the sun was beginning to set. It was red, like blood, and cast a rippling red reflection off of the water.
I became lost in the reflection - as if all my senses left me. And suddenly I was filled with a sense of foreboding.
I broke through the spell and turned back to the game, and... Gin had won!

{{GM}}He bursts into laughter.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Gin reaches over the game board and whacks him.{{/GM}}

God damn it, you badger! You really had me going there... Thought those dreams were long past us!
Had me going, too.
Then I take it you haven't had any more dreams?
If that's the way you're going to be, I'm leaving.
See? You upset $(l.name)!
{{GM}}Shyu looks at Gin in surprise.{{/GM}}

I believe that's the first time you've ever called our friend here by $(l.his) name, Gin.

Don't tell me you're growing *fond* of $(l.him)!
I said nothing of the sort! You're just old and deaf. Misheard me, that's all.

{{GM}}The old man blushes. A strange look for him. He seems to realize his reaction and coughs to cover it up, but the flush lingers.{{/GM}}
Ah, of course, of course...
I'll leave you men to it. See you later.
If by dreams you mean exquisite visions of buxom geriatric women, then absolutely.

{{GM}}Gin crosses his arms.{{/GM}}

Otherwise, only nightmare I've had recently was about my hair falling out.
{{GM}}Shyu shrugs.{{/GM}}

And that's happening already.
{{GM}}Gin scowls at Shyu, then turns his head toward Lau.{{/GM}}

What about you, Master Lau?
{{GM}}A smile touches Lau's lips.{{/GM}}

My evenings have been peaceful. No dreams of the past, the present, the abstract or macabre. Just dreams of Go.
{{GM}}The other two look at him and nod their heads in agreement. Shyu speaks slowly.{{/GM}}

We've been on this earth for many years now. Some good, some bad. But of all the things I'm most thankful for, it's your good company and our games of Go.
{{GM}}Shyu and Gin exchange a look. They glance between you and Lau before Gin finally leans forward and speaks to you in a low voice.{{/GM}}

Because, $(l.name), Master Lau...
Is an Arcadian prince!
What!?

{{GM}}Gin snaps up straight, confused.{{/GM}}

You're senile!
{{GM}}Shyu can't contain himself. His breaths come out in rasps, and it looks as if he might inhale his beard from the intensity of his laughter.{{/GM}}
Lau's otherwise indifferent face betrays him as the corners of his mouth draw upwards into an amused grin. He coughs, and quickly drops it, but his lips purse under the effort to maintain his collected demeanor.
{{GM}}Gin's upper lip curls in annoyance as he watches them. He flicks his wrist dismissively.{{/GM}}

Eeyaah, you can both kick it, for all I care.
So, let me get this straight... Lau's an Arcadian prince?
If Lau's a prince, does that make you two his fools?
Bullshit. No way he's royalty. I bet Arcadia doesn't even *have* a prince.
No!
{{GM}}The force of Gin's statement only fuels Shyu's laughter. He speaks between breaths.{{/GM}}

I'm sorry, Gin. I am.

Sorry you're such an old pooter.
{{GM}}His laugh subsides, and Shyu beams at you.{{/GM}}

Tell me, how old do you think we are? Gin and I.
Man, I don't know. *Old.*
If I had to guess, I'd say your late seventies.
One hundred thirty-eight, and two dozen, respectively.
Well, you'd be right there. But consider this: Master Lau is even older than old.
Is this part of your joke? He's clearly younger. Can't be past his thirties.
Ahh, I think I see what's going on here.
Now that you mention it, there *is* something different about the way he carries himself.
{{GM}}Shyu pauses for a moment. Strokes his beard. He seems to be considering how to proceed, and when he finally speaks, his voice is slow and thoughtful.{{/GM}}

The three of us chose to follow our passions. Our "young" friend here worked long, hard hours and was clever in business. In the end, he earned a fortune sufficient to buy back his lost youth.

Gina and I pay him respect because he's *our* senior, and because he is the one man among us who was wise enough to, ah... invest in his youth, so to say.
It's called Leonization.

{{GM}}The edge in Gin's voice is gone.{{/GM}}

We're lucky our friend still joins us for Go. He could be out climbing mountains or building his empire or whatever you kids do these days, but he's content to provide us geezers with his good company.
The facade works in my favor. Occasionally, these two forget I'm decades their elder, and they get cocky in our games.

An unexpected, but welcome, side effect of my treatments.

{{GM}}Lau's dark eyes sparkle inside his otherwise unreadable face.{{/GM}}
I always knew you were a cheat!

At least Shyu and I can enjoy it when you're harassed by waiters at the Pancake Hut.

{{GM}}Gin smiles wickedly and looks at you.{{/GM}}

Has to convince them he's eligible for the senior buffet every time.
{{GM}}He nods.{{/GM}}

In that ballpark, yes. But consider this: Master Lau is beyond his seventies.
{{GM}}He chuckles.{{/GM}}

Seems like it, doesn't it? Well, consider this: Master Lau is even older than we are.
It *doesn't*!
We'll be seeing you soon.
You should practice your Go, $(l.name). Then someday we can all play together.
Sooner rather than later. We're not aging in reverse, you know.

{{GM}}He shoots Lau a look.{{/GM}}

Well. Most of us, anyway.
I'm sorry, but we're still playing. Come back some other time.
Alright.
You guys must really like that game. See ya.
The three men are in deep concentration - no one notices your approach. They look entirely focused on the game before them.
Errant Grenade Launcher
Launcher: A classic tube-fired grenade launcher.
Air Barrier 1
Set 3 Light Cover barriers that last 3 RNDS. Anyone that enters takes -1 AP DMG.
Cat Totem
The power of the Cat aids all allies within 3 tiles with Dodge +1. Lasts 3 RNDS.
Cat: Dodge +1
Greater Devil Rat
As you approach the corner of the convention floor, you find a brightly lit entrance. There are signs on the walls pointing toward it: "SIMSENSE PARLOR / DECKING AREA."
{{GM}}As you draw closer, a convention staffer in a bland uniform steps towards you.{{/GM}}

Sorry to say it, but we're a bit crammed right now. If you hang tight, we should be able to squeeze you in soon... there's maybe a half-hour wait.
Please. Places like this never run at full capacity - you're keeping a few VIP slots in the back, right?
I don't have a half hour. Are you sure that I can't just slip on by? I can make it worth your while...
We're full up. I don't know how else to say it. You need to wait like everyone else.

Stay cool, and we'll get you in as soon as possible.
{{CC}}Body: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Medium){{/CC}} Listen man, I'm going in. Feel free to get in my way.
{{CC}}Decking: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Hard){{/CC}} Look, you're gonna want me in there. There's a worm floating around the demo kiosks, and I traced it to one of the machines in that room.
See that guy over there, laid out on the floor? I'm the one who put him there. Let me through, or you're gonna join him.
The show organizers are gonna be livid when they hear that you made me wait.
{{GM}}Back away.{{/GM}} All right, I'm going.
Huh? Worm? What do you mean?
Malicious software. It's crashing the kiosks and stealing login information. Let me in so I can fix it.
{{GM}}He nods slowly.{{/GM}}

Okay. Okay, you're in. If there is a problem, you fix it - take as much time as you need.
{{GM}}He rolls his eyes.{{/GM}}

Yeah, sure. Of course they will.

All right. Tell me who you are and I'll see if your name's on the list.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Shadowrunner{{/CC}} A deniable asset. One that's on your bosses' payroll, and who doesn't have time for your shit.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Gang{{/CC}} Think of me as a friendly tax collector for your local branch of the Yellow Lotus. Your bosses are in the red, and I'm here to collect.
Ever heard of Richard Villiers? CEO of Fuchi?
Of course I have.

Why? Are you saying that you know him?
{{CC}}Etiquette: Socialite{{/CC}} I'm engaged to marry his daughter, Caroline Tara Villiers. The old man loves me, and the show organizers know it.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Security{{/CC}} I'm his chief of security. You really wanna stand in my way?
{{CC}}Etiquette: Corporate{{/CC}} I'm the chief advisor of his ex-wife, Samantha. You might know her as the VP of Novatech Seattle.
Oh, yeah, I know him, all right. And if you don't let me through, he's gonna be pissed.
It's me! *I'm* Richard Villiers! In disguise! I, uh... I left my ID at home.
{{GM}}His eyes widen in surprise.{{/GM}}

I'm so sorry! I didn't realize who I was dealing with.

Here, go on through... I think I may just take a lap around the Con floor. Take as much time as you need.
{{GM}}He rolls his eyes.{{/GM}}

Nice try. Now get lost.
Enjoy the show.
It's like I told you before... we're full up, $(l.sir).
Colt M23 (Smartlink)
Rifle: An easy favorite of runners. Pierces up to 2 Armor. This model adds an integral Smartlink system.
Activate Auto-Injector
The drug Hyper is pumped into the bloodstream. Accuracy increased by 6%, incoming damage increased by 3 for 3 RNDs of combat.
Guardian Mk. 2 Auto
From Ares, this is one of the best combat hoverdrones on the market. Comes with a fully automatic weapon.
Does minor damage, but unbalances the target making them easier to hit. The target is also flushed from cover.
Trained by Lone Star. An expert in assault rifle combat and nonlethal takedowns.
Crew: Security Specialist
Shotgun Mount
-5% accuracy. Can hit adjacent targets at ranges of 6 or greater. Uses 10 ammo.
>> Renraku NaviOS 6.1.4

"Connecting you with your dreams."

Enter input.
Gaichu, what is this thing?
{{GM}}Gaichu runs his fingers over the terminal for a few seconds.{{/GM}}

This is the control panel for the quarantine room beyond it. Standard design across most Renraku facilities. Parazoologists use it to study the responses of paranormal animals to external stimuli.
Interesting.

{{GM}}Racter peers into the room beyond, eyes twinkling with curiosity.{{/GM}}

What kind of stimulus do they expose the creatures to? What is the purpose of their tests?
That sounds ominous.

{{GM}}Is0bel spends a long time looking past the glass into the room beyond.{{/GM}}

What kind of 'stimulus' are we talking about here?
{{GM}}Gobbet scowls deeply, looking into the quarantine room.{{/GM}}

What kind of stimulus are we talking about here?
Well, that sounds like a messed up thing to do.

What kind of 'stimulus' do they use?
The animals are exposed to high voltage current, open flame, toxic gasses, et cetera. The primary purpose of these experiments is to identify the best specimens and reserve them for breeding. Those that are of sufficient stock survive. The rest do not.

Such survivors make excellent guard animals, once cybernetically controlled.
If we bait the quarantine room, one of the team members will move through it to flank us. Since Tanjiro's program gives us access to their comm channels, we can choose who to draw in.

The other three will enter through the front door.

I can bait the quarantine room to draw in one of the Samurai. They will split up, but they won't deviate from standard protocol very much. The remaining three will remain together.
We have three choices. We can bring in Sasaki and eliminate her magical support. We could draw in Takagawa, to cut down on long-range sniper fire. Or we can draw in whoever the heavy gunner replacement is.

We can only draw in one, however.
Why not the leader? The captain?
Let's bait it for the mage. I don't want to deal with magical support and interference.
Let's bait it for the sniper. I don't want anyone getting picked off.
Let's bait it for the heavy. Take him out before he can do any damage.
No. I need to face Ishida myself. This is a reckoning that has been years in coming.

{{GM}}Gaichu waves a dismissive hand.{{/GM}}

Besides, the commander will never separate from the majority of the squad unless there is no other choice.
As you enter, Kindly Cheng is giving instructions to Strangler Bao, who nods enthusiastically.

She looks over at you and holds up a hand: Wait.
... and send Wong and Ho to snatch some of those medical supplies off the relief trucks. With all the excitement, nobody's watching them at all.

{{GM}}She nods to herself, grimacing in satisfaction.{{/GM}}

There'll be a big black market for them over the next few weeks.
Good thinking, Mrs. Cheng.

{{GM}}Bao lifts a finger to his ear to transmit the orders. When he sees you waiting, his eyes narrow to sharp slits of malice but he continues his work.{{/GM}}
Good thinking, Mrs. Cheng.

{{GM}}Bao lifts a finger to his ear to transmit the orders. When he sees you waiting, he inclines his head a quarter of an inch.{{/GM}}
$(l.name). I figured you were dead.

Last I heard, my soldiers had found you and everyone was heading into the Walled City. Then things got out of control.

{{GM}}She takes a pull on her thin black cigar.{{/GM}}

Where are my people? What the hell happened?
They're dead. You're really stealing medical supplies, Auntie?
Not sure.
We got separated in the Walled City. Found out later they were killed.
No one will miss a few boxes.

{{GM}}Cheng pulls out her PDA and taps the screen.{{/GM}}

The corps have a PR bonanza with all this humanitarian relief work. There'll be no shortage of supplies, believe me.
And don't think you can distract me with that medical supplies shit.

{{GM}}She looks up at you from the PDA.{{/GM}}

I sent you five soldiers and they're all dead.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng stares at you, unblinking.{{/GM}}

I sent you five soldiers and they're all dead.
{{GM}}Her eyes are hard little black buttons.{{/GM}}

Is that how you treat my resources?
Please accept my apologies, Mrs. Cheng.
They died for a good cause.
Looks like business is up these days. You'll make up the loss.
Soldiers die. That's what they're for.
{{GM}}She takes another drag off her cigar, exhales the smoke through her nose.{{/GM}}

So you *do* have something to apologize for.
That's not what I meant.
I didn't get your men killed, Auntie.
I was just trying to be respectful of your loss.
{{GM}}She takes another drag off her cigar, exhales the smoke through her nose.{{/GM}}

It had better be.

They were expendable, not unlimited.
{{GM}}She takes another drag off her cigar, exhales the smoke through her nose.{{/GM}}

Callous. I like that.
No. Soldiers are for killing the *other guy.*

{{GM}}She takes another drag off her cigar, exhales the smoke through her nose.{{/GM}}

When *your* soldiers die, it's called *losing.*
{{GM}}She taps her ash on the floor.{{/GM}}

Well, they knew the risks. They had a shot at moving up and they missed.

Forget them.
I've got bigger problems. Like customers and tenants streaming out of the Walled City, screaming for their lives. Like the HKPF and those Tsang Security shitheels swarming the place.
{{GM}}She drops the stub of her cigar in an ashtray.{{/GM}}

Now tell me what happened in the Walled City. Or do I have to get an acetylene torch and ask nicely?
It was a family matter. It's taken care of.
A new tenant tried to move in. A big, bad, terrifying one from another dimension.
Raymond Black accidentally summoned a demon-god. I made a deal with her.
Family matter, huh?

That's it? That's all I get?

{{GM}}She begins stacking mahjong tiles.{{/GM}}

I'm down five soldiers. Vice numbers are gonna drop. Loans won't get repaid.

I've taken *losses,* $(l.name).
Business will go back up, Auntie. Vice will find a way.
Yeah, I took some losses too.
Your optimism is contagious.

{{GM}}She eyes you closely, her mouth a hard little slit.{{/GM}}

Now come clean.
Confide in me, $(l.name). Tell me what happened.

We're partners, after all.
Sorry, Auntie. Some plays you have to keep close to the vest.
You're right. We're partners, and partners share. I made a deal with a Yama King.
{{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} I blacked out, and when I came to, Gun Show, Gobbet and Is0bel were dead.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng's eyes get big at that.{{/GM}}

Sounds... dangerous. What kind of demon?
The soul-sucking, deal-making, nightmare-inducing, talking-inside-your head kind.
The good kind. For me, anyway. Let's leave it at that.
A Yama King - Qian Ya, the Queen With a Thousand Teeth.
Demons make hard deals, $(l.name). Cursed deals.

{{GM}}She frowns deeply and her words come out slowly.{{/GM}}

What kind of deal did you *make?*
{{GM}}She picks up her bottle of foul spirits and studies the label. Her rusty-mean voice drops low.{{/GM}}

I know the Yama Kings. My grandmother used to try to scare me with stories about them. I guess she thought she was teaching me something by scaring the shit out of me.

{{GM}}She chuckles softly.{{/GM}}
I remember one Yama specifically, Fu Mang - the Serpent of the Setting Sun. Oh yes.

Fu Mang promised wealth and influence for those willing to do what was necessary to take it.

{{GM}}Her voice turns wistful.{{/GM}}

The story of Fu Mang spoke to me.
All he asked for in return were forty-four hearts pulled from the chests of those closest to you - while they were still alive.

Hearts from random victims wouldn't do, so those who took Fu Mang's bargain would befriend others before taking their hearts, turning their entire network into a *list* of victims.

Yesss... Fu Mang spoke to me.

But I didn't listen.
Yama Kings make hard deals, $(l.name). Cursed deals.

{{GM}}She frowns deeply and her words come out slowly.{{/GM}}

What kind of deal did you *make?*
I let her have the Walled City in exchange for 14 years of good fortune.
That's between me and the demon-god.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng stares at you for a long time. Then she smiles her serpentine smile.{{/GM}}

All right, $(l.name). I'll assume you're telling the truth. Of course, I'll send some men in to investigate but I have the feeling you're telling the truth. Too much chaos, too many people around here having nightmares for it not to be.
So, 14 years of good fortune...

{{GM}}Her black eyes dance.{{/GM}}

From what I've seen, good fortune rubs off - and I want a taste! My guess is that you're going to want partners for whatever you think of next. As you've seen, I can be a useful ally.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng's eyes narrow and she stares at you for a long time. Then she smiles her serpentine smile.{{/GM}}

All right, $(l.name). Play it your way. My guess is that you're going to want partners for whatever you think of next.

As you've seen, I can be a useful ally.
You've always treated me well, Auntie Cheng. I intend to return the favor.
We'll see, Kindly. We'll see.
When it suits your needs.
Of course you will, my dear! Who would doubt it?

{{GM}}She picks up a mahjong tile, slowly turns it between her fingers.{{/GM}}

Now tell me, what did you trade in return? It wasn't just the Walled City. Not personal enough for a demon.

You had to give up something.
Of course, my dear! I'm sure you have plenty to think about!

{{GM}}She picks up a mahjong tile, slowly turns it between her fingers.{{/GM}}

Now tell me, what did you trade in return? It wasn't just the Walled City. Not personal enough for a demon.

You had to give up something.
Of course, my dear! That's how the world works. Morality is driven by consequence.

{{GM}}She picks up a mahjong tile, slowly turns it between her fingers.{{/GM}}

Now tell me, what did you trade in return? It wasn't just the Walled City. Not personal enough for a demon.

You had to give up something.
Raymond. Gun Show. Gobbet. Is0bel.
Let's just say, I made some sacrifices.
Well, I walked out with fewer people than I walked in with. A lot fewer.
{{GM}}The triad eyes you closely.{{/GM}}

You play for keeps, don't you? But if you did what I *think* you did, some of those people were mine and not yours to bargain with.

{{GM}}Her eyes glisten with cunning.{{/GM}}

No matter. We're partners, and partners share their resources.
{{GM}}The triad scratches her chin with a smirk.{{/GM}}

You play for keeps, don't you? But some of those people were mine and not yours to bargain with.

{{GM}}Her eyes glisten with cunning.{{/GM}}

No matter. We're partners, and partners share their resources.
{{GM}}Strangler Bao leans in, his finger to his ear.{{/GM}}

My apologies, Mrs. Cheng, but one of the men you sent with the runners into the Walled City is still alive.

He stumbled into Wong and Ho as they were pulling medical supplies off a lorry.
{{GM}}Cheng turns to you with an edge in her voice.{{/GM}}

At least *one* came back alive.
{{GM}}Strangler Bao lowers his head, listens to his earpiece again.{{/GM}}

Our man says that Wong Lun Fat is dead. He got shot up by the HKPF inside the Walled City.

{{GM}}Bao lifts his head and makes eye-contact with the triad boss. He's almost salivating with avarice.{{/GM}}

Our man saw it with his own eyes, Mrs. Cheng.
Uh, is that good news?
That sounds good. Does it make up for your dead soldiers, Auntie?
With his own eyes - is that important?
It is delicious, my darling.

Wong Lun Fat was my superior in the Yellow Lotus. A 438.

{{GM}}Kindly Cheng's black button eyes sparkle with satisfaction born of malice.{{/GM}}

He was also a pig.
It wipes the slate clean, my darling. Oh yes!

You see, Wong Lun Fat was my superior in the Yellow Lotus. A 438.

{{GM}}Kindly Cheng's black button eyes sparkle with satisfaction born of malice.{{/GM}}

He was also a pig.
Oh yes. It means I have verification from a trusted man.

You see, Wong Lun Fat was my superior in the Yellow Lotus. A 438.

{{GM}}Kindly Cheng's black button eyes sparkle with satisfaction born of malice.{{/GM}}

He was also a pig.
{{GM}}She looks up at the pillar of meat she calls an enforcer.{{/GM}}

Tell our friend $(l.name) what that means, Mr. Bao.

{{GM}}A wolfish smile spreads across her face, and her eyes squeeze into crescent-moons of pleasure.{{/GM}}

And say it's slow so I can savor it.
The death of Wong Lun Fat has opened a spot for you to move up, madam.

*You* could be the next 438.

{{GM}}Bao smiles. The effect is chilling.{{/GM}}

The gods help those who seize opportunities.
Mr. Bao, put every man we have on this.

{{GM}}Kindly Cheng runs her hand over a stack of mahjong tiles, gathering a pile to herself.{{/GM}}

Spread the word - all debts to the Yellow Lotus are suspended for citizens of the Walled City until order is restored. Tell them that I have medical supplies too. And there will be no charge for them... until the crisis is over.
And after the crisis is over?
Things seem to be going your way, Auntie.
You are a pillar of the community.
When the laws of supply and demand take over, my darling. Once I convince the relief forces that order has been restored in the Walled City, they'll pull out - thankful to be away from there.

Within a week, the public will forget about the refugees and the government will be pleased that their budget is no longer being drained by the poor.

Medical supplies will dry up overnight... and prices will soar.
They do indeed, my sweet.
Don't be snide, $(l.name). You don't want to blow my good mood.

{{GM}}She raises her voice so the triads in the room can hear her.{{/GM}}

The citizens of the Walled City need clarity and reassurance.

The Yellow Lotus will provide that for them.
I may not have brought Josephine Tsang down but I've got my career going again.

{{GM}}She grabs her bottle and unscrews the cap with her thumb.{{/GM}}

Your career too, Mr. Bao. You'll be my new Straw Sandal. Good partners support one another.
{{GM}}Bao lowers his head in respect.{{/GM}}

You have proven that, Mrs. Cheng.
This calls for a drink.

{{GM}}The soon-to-be-438 pours two shots and the stink of kerosene stabs your nose like switchblade. She hands a glass to Bao, touches it with her own, and holds it there.{{/GM}}

Your loyalty and clear-headedness have proven immensely valuable, Mr. Bao. You are an effective ally and I wish you great wealth and good fortune.

{{GM}}They down the foul substance in one gulp.{{/GM}}
Congratulations, kids. You both had it coming to you.
What about my drink? I'm the one who made a deal with a demon.
Looks like you two are moving up in the world.
Bao stares at you over the rim of his glass as he drinks.
Yes, yes. And it appears your fortune is changing too, $(l.name). In a big way.

And we've seen the first example of your newfound luck, haven't we? Your mysterious benefactor!

The one who lifted the APB on you.
Any idea who my mysterious benefactor might be?
I like mysterious benefactors.
At least *somebody* likes me.
I don't have a clue.

And I must admit, that bothers me.
I'm sure you do, especially when they prevent police snipers from inserting a tunnel in your skull.
It must be someone powerful.

I can't imagine it was Josephine Tsang. After all, what would her motivation be?

It's got to be someone else.
Yeah, well it's not like I've made a lot of friends since we hit town.
One of Josephine's enemies on the Executive Council?
I'll tap my network - find out if I can.

{{GM}}Kindly pulls out another thin black cigar.{{/GM}}

But that's for later! I haven't heard most of your story. It sounds delicious.

What happened at Prosperity Tower? Did you rescue Raymond Black? Did his mother wipe his memory?
We got him. Stopped his mother from wiping his memory.
It was a hell of a fight but we beat Tsang Security. Got Raymond before she could finish.
We got to him in time. Got what we needed from him.
Impressive. You have become quite a shadowrunner, $(l.name).
Got what you needed from him?

My, but that sounds harsh.

{{GM}}She changes topics, apparently uninterested in hearing more.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}She lights her cigar with the gleam of hunger in her shiny black eyes.{{/GM}}

While you were in Prosperity Tower, did you find any incriminating data on Josephine Tsang?

Dirt? Something I can use?
{{GM}}Toss her the data.{{/GM}} We found financial statements that'll get her in deep with the Executive Council. Enjoy.
Yep. Financial statements the Executive Council would love to see. As I recall, you were gonna back up the nuyen truck for this.
{{GM}}Toss her the data.{{/GM}} Something *we* can use. Financial shenanigans that'll hurt Jo Tsang with the Exec Council.
Nope. Didn't find anything.
Sorry Auntie. Prosperity Tower was just too hot.
{{GM}}Kindly barks a laugh and the cigar dances in her mouth as she speaks.{{/GM}}

Now I can take that dried up old bitch to the mat!

{{GM}}The triad boss pulls out a cred stick and tosses it to you. The number on the data read-out is big. More than twice the payout of a single shadowrun.{{/GM}}

And remember, this is *your* victory too! With this, Josephine Tsang's days on the Executive Council are numbered.
Bao, it appears that my fortunes have truly changed!

{{GM}}She pours two more shots from her reeking bottle.{{/GM}}

Our partnership has become quite enriching, $(l.name).
{{GM}}She raises her glass.{{/GM}}

To my new number one shadowrunner. May our partnership continue to bear fruit.
{{GM}}Drink.{{/GM}} Let's hope it's big, fat fruit.
{{GM}}Drink.{{/GM}} To the beginning of something big.
{{GM}}Pass on the drink.{{/GM}} Sorry. I make it a habit not to drink anything someone offers me. Even crime lords.
{{GM}}Pass on the drink.{{/GM}} Partnership, huh?
Kindly Cheng watches you drink, smiling her serpentine smile. Then she downs her glass in one swallow and licks the rim.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng smiles her serpentine smile.{{/GM}}

So trusting.

{{GM}}She reaches over and downs your drink, too.{{/GM}}
We'll talk more about that in the morning, my darling.

{{GM}}She reaches over and downs your drink, too.{{/GM}}

It's been a busy day.
Now before I get back to business, I must know.

{{GM}}One of her black eyes narrows.{{/GM}}

How did you go from rescuing Raymond Black to the Walled City vomiting people?
Sorry Auntie. Some questions just aren't gonna be answered.
Ray built a machine in the Walled city. It accidentally summoned the big bad thing. That's when everybody ran.
Ray made a magical fortune machine, but it suffered from a demon-summoning glitch.
Not today, my pet.

{{GM}}Her black button eyes glint with danger.{{/GM}}

But perhaps some day.
{{GM}}The triad boss cocks her head, raises her cigar to her lips.{{/GM}}

If the demon-summoning was accidental, what was his machine suppose to do in the first place?
{{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} I don't know.
It created fortune.
Kindly's eyes narrow, and she holds your gaze for a moment. Then her mouth curls into a smile.
Your foster-father created a magical fortune machine?

{{GM}}The triad boss cocks her head, raises her cigar to her lips.{{/GM}}

Please tell me you have control of this device.

Please tell me you brought it to me.
Nope. Sorry.
That's a pity.

I'm sure there are plenty of people who could benefit from it.
Well this business has certainly proved lucrative for me.

{{GM}}Kindly Cheng studies the glowing tip of her black cigar.{{/GM}}

I'm in prime position to be the next Yellow Lotus 438, I only lost four men, *and* I finally got something I can use against Josephine Tsang.
Well this business has certainly proved lucrative for me.

{{GM}}Kindly Cheng studies the glowing tip of her black cigar.{{/GM}}

I'm in prime position to be the next Yellow Lotus 438 *and* I only lost four men.
Things seem to be working out for me, too.
Looks like our luck is improving.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng's stiff eyebrows raise.{{/GM}}

So it would appear, my sweet. So it would appear.
Luck is when preparation meets opportunity.

{{GM}}Kindly Cheng lowers her eyes and her voice softens.{{/GM}}

Although maybe not in your case.
{{GM}}The triad boss brightens.{{/GM}}

You've made quite a splash since arriving in Hong Kong, $(l.name).

Many shadowruns completed in a very short time. The reports from our clients are glowing. Mostly.

I'd say this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership.
{{GM}}She stubs out her cigar. Screws the top back on her bottle.{{/GM}}

Now get some sleep, $(l.name). You look like shit.

Tomorrow, we'll talk about the future.
Bed sounds good.
Maybe next time you can just say I look like I could use some sleep.
Last time you told me to got to bed, I woke up a Shadowrunner. What happens when I wake up tomorrow?
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng doesn't respond. She's already moved on.{{/GM}}

Bao, what's the status on those medical supplies?
I'll work on that, my darling.

{{GM}}She dips her finger into her empty glass, finds the last drop of liquor, and brings it to her mouth. Smiles in satisfaction.{{/GM}}

But not today.

Today, you look like shit.
We get to work, my darling!

You heard Mr. Bao.

{{GM}}Kindly Cheng stares at you, her face placid.{{/GM}}

The gods help those who seize opportunities.
{{GM}}Then she turns away, dismissing you with a wave.{{/GM}}

Bao, what's the status on those medical supplies?
{{GM}}Kindly's face is expressionless.{{/GM}}

If you have what I'm looking for, you will be well rewarded.
Oh, I've got it. Now let's see the nuyen.
Throw me a credstick and I'll toss you the data.
Let's talk numbers.
{{GM}}The triad boss pulls out a cred stick and tosses it to you. The number on the data read-out is big.{{/GM}}

I'll let the credstick do the talking for me.
{{GM}}Toss her the data.{{/GM}} Your credstick speaks a language I understand.
{{GM}}Toss her the data.{{/GM}} Done.
{{GM}}Dangle the data in front of her.{{/GM}} I was expecting more.
{{GM}}Her face falls.{{/GM}}

Then you'll need to manage your expectations better next time. There's a lot of nuyen on that credstick. You want to keep it or not?
{{GM}}Toss her the data.{{/GM}} I think I'll keep it. Here's your dirt.
{{GM}}Hold onto the data.{{/GM}} Who knows how much I can get for this data on the open market?
My fault for telling you how much I wanted it.

{{GM}}Kindly scowls.{{/GM}}

Here.

{{GM}}She tosses you a second credstick.{{/GM}}

Negotiations are closed. Hand it over.
{{GM}}Toss her the data.{{/GM}} Your dirt, Auntie. Use it in good health.
{{GM}}Toss her the data.{{/GM}} It's a pleasure doing business with you.
{{GM}}Toss her the data.{{/GM}} Have fun with that.
Yes, $(l.name), we! This is your victory, too.

{{GM}}The thin black cigar dances in Kindly's mouth as she speaks.{{/GM}}

*We* will be the instruments of her destruction!

We're gonna *hurt* that woman.
{{GM}}The triad boss pulls out a cred stick and tosses it to you. The number on the data read-out is big. More than twice the payout of a single shadowrun.{{/GM}}

With this, Tsang's days on the Executive Council are numbered.
All that bullshit and I don't get *anything?*

{{GM}}She grabs a pile of mahjong tiles and drops them onto the table one by one.{{/GM}}

Fine. No sense crying over that, I have business to do. I need to focus on bringing "order" back into the Walled City and prestige to the Yellow Lotus.

That will cement me in my new position.
I've got bigger problems. Like customers and tenants streaming out of the Walled City, screaming for their lives. Like the HKPF and those Tsang Security shitheels swarming the place.

{{GM}}She drops the stub of her cigar in an ashtray.{{/GM}}

Now tell me what happened in the Walled City. Or do I have to get an acetylene torch and ask nicely?
A new tenant tried to move in. The big, bad, terrifying kind from another dimension.
Raymond Black accidentally summoned a demon-god. We had to put her down.
It could have been worse. We got Raymond back. And then we stopped something in there.
We've all taken losses, okay? Let's just move on.
And I have a dead father. Let's call it even.
Something? What kind of something?
A Yama King - Qian Ya, the Queen With a Thousand Teeth. Ever hear of her?
A bad bad thing. From another dimension.
We move on when I say we move on.

{{GM}}She eyes you closely, her mouth a sharp little slit. You can see her connecting the dots.{{/GM}}

How did Raymond Black die?
{{GM}}Cheng's mouth closes with a snap. She frowns.{{/GM}}

Okay, $(l.name). We'll call it even.

What killed him?
{{GM}}She eyes you closely, her mouth a hard little slit.{{/GM}}

Your optimism is contagious.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng's eyes get big at that.{{/GM}}

What kind?
A Yama King. Qian Ya, the Queen With a Thousand Teeth.
The soul-sucking, nightmare-inducing, talking-inside-your head kind of demon-god.
Never heard of her.

{{GM}}She picks up her bottle of foul spirits and studies the label. Her rusty-mean voice drops low.{{/GM}}

But I know the Yama Kings. My grandmother used to try to scare me with stories about them.

I guess that she thought she was teaching me something by scaring the shit out of me.

{{GM}}She chuckles softly.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The triad boss crosses her arms across her chest.{{/GM}}

Okay. We can leave it at that.
It is delicious, my darling.

Wong Lun Fat was my superior in the Yellow Lotus. A 438.

{{GM}}Kindly Cheng's black button eyes sparkle with satisfaction born of malice.{{/GM}}

He was also a pig.
It wipes the slate clean, my darling. Oh yes!

You see, Wong Lun Fat was my superior in the Yellow Lotus. A 438.

{{GM}}Kindly Cheng black button eyes sparkle with satisfaction born of malice.{{/GM}}

He was also a pig.
Oh yes, very important. It means I have verification from a trusted man.

Wong Lun Fat was my superior in the Yellow Lotus. A 438.

{{GM}}Kindly Cheng black button eyes sparkle with satisfaction born of malice.{{/GM}}

He was also a pig.
Tell our friend $(l.name) what that means, Mr. Bao.

{{GM}}A wolfish smile spreads across her face, and her eyes squeeze into crescent-moons of pleasure.{{/GM}}

And say it's slow so I can savor it.
The death of Wong Lun Fat has opened a spot for you to move up, madam.

*You* could be the next 438.

{{GM}}Bao smiles. The effect is chilling.{{/GM}}

The gods help those who seize opportunities.
Mr. Bao, put every man we have on this.

Spread the word - Kindly Cheng says all debts to the Yellow Lotus are suspended for citizens of the Walled City until order is restored. And no interest will compound either.

Tell them that I have medical supplies too.

And there will be no charge for them... until the crisis is over.
I may not have brought Josephine Tsang down but I've got my career going again.

{{GM}}She grabs her bottle and unscrews the cap with her thumb.{{/GM}}

Your career too, Mr. Bao. You'll be my new Straw Sandal.

Good partners support one another.
What about my drink? I'm the one who beat a demon.
At a cost, my sweet. At a cost.

{{GM}}Kindly catches your eye as she fingers the rim of her glass.{{/GM}}

But we move forward, don't we?
Yes, yes. And it appears your fortune is changing too, $(l.name).

{{GM}}She pours herself another drink and leaves it sitting on the table.{{/GM}}

Remember, you have a mysterious benefactor - one who lifted the APB on you.
Any idea who that might be?
It must be somebody powerful.

I can't imagine it was Josephine Tsang. After all, what would her motivation be?

It's got to be someone else.
I'll tap my network - find out if I can.

{{GM}}Kindly pulls out another thin black cigar.{{/GM}}

But that's for later! I'm missing an entire piece of your story, my darling.

What happened at Prosperity Tower? Did you rescue Raymond Black? Did his mother wipe his memory?
Impressive.

You have become quite a shadowrunner, $(l.name).
{{GM}}She lights the cigar, a gleam of hunger in her shiny black eyes.{{/GM}}

While you were in Prosperity Tower, did you find any incriminating data on Josephine Tsang?

Dirt? Something I can use?
I'm certain it will, $(l.name).

I have a good feeling about you.
Now before I get back to business, I must know - how did you go from rescuing Raymond Black to the Walled City vomiting people?
Kindly's eyes narrow but then her mouth curls into a smile. She moves on with a shrug.
And we got Raymond back.
Yeah, well Raymond didn't make it. He sacrificed himself to stop the demon.
We can't all be so lucky. Raymond wasn't.
Then you did what you came here to do.

And the Gun Show, too.
Did he? Maybe that's what he came here to do.

{{GM}}She lowers her eyes and her voice softens.{{/GM}}

Everyone makes their choices, my sweet. And everyone pays the consequences.

Even you some day.
Luck is when preparation meets opportunity.

{{GM}}She lowers her eyes, her voice softening.{{/GM}}

It doesn't sound like your foster father was in a position to be lucky.

But judging by the way you've run the shadows, I'd say your luck is about to change.
You've made quite a splash since arriving in Hong Kong, $(l.name).

Many shadowruns completed in a very short time. The reports from our clients are glowing. Mostly.
Don't forget what we did in the Walled City. That could've gotten nasty if it weren't for us.
You can add closing the door on a demon-goddess to the list. We made a difference.
It could have been worse, I suppose.

For some. For awhile.

{{GM}}The triad boss leans in and her voice becomes conspiratorial.{{/GM}}

Listen to me, my sweet. When I was a girl there had never been a pandemic like VITAS, but in 2010, it happened. We'd never *seen* death like that.
Perhaps for some. For awhile.

{{GM}}The triad boss leans in, her voice conspiratorial.{{/GM}}

Listen to me, my sweet. When I was a girl there had never been a pandemic like VITAS, but in 2010, it happened.

We'd never *seen* death like that.
A quarter of the world's population disappeared. It was miserable. It pushed us to our limits. But the survivors moved on.

And then the spike babies started appearing. And the dwarf babies. And then suddenly there were dragons, and goblinization, and magic. And every time the world changed we got used to it.
So if a demon goddess decided that the Walled City was her new living room and you didn't... whatever you did... what would have happened?

{{GM}}She shrugs, sniffs.{{/GM}}

Perhaps the news would cover it - until the next sensation pulled their attention away. But after awhile, it would be drowned out by all the other crap competing for our attention.
And the Demon in the Walled City would become the new normal.
Well the new normal is that the Walled City isn't under magical influence anymore.
Well I *was* there. And I stopped her.
Congratulations. The poor can return to their misery with no interference from magical machines or big bad things because of *you.*
Now let me give you a piece of advice for the future my sweet - something Mr. Cheng used to tell me.

"Respect ghosts and gods but keep away from them."

It sounds like you almost lost your ass in the Walled City. I think you'd best listen to that.
Yes you did. You have made a habit of coming out on top. But let me give you a piece of advice for the future, my sweet. Something Mr. Cheng used to tell me.

"Respect ghosts and gods but keep away from them."

It sounds like you almost lost your ass in the Walled City. I think you'd best listen to that.
So there is a Mr. Cheng.
No more demons from now on, Auntie.
I'll keep it in mind.
{{GM}}Kindly smiles mischievously.{{/GM}}

There have been *many* Mr. Chengs, my darling.

None have lasted long.
{{GM}}Kindly smiles mischievously.{{/GM}}

So wise.
You do that.
Last time you told me to got to bed, I woke up a shadowrunner. What happens when I wake up tomorrow?
I'll work on that, my darling. But not today.

{{GM}}She dips her finger into her empty glass, finds the last drop of liquor, and brings it to her mouth.{{/GM}}

Today, you look like shit.
We get to work, my darling!

You heard Mr. Bao.

{{GM}}She dips her finger into her empty glass, finds the last drop of liquor, and brings it to her mouth.{{/GM}}

The gods help those who seize opportunities.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng turns away, dismissing you with a wave.{{/GM}}

Bao, what's the status on those medical supplies?
Yes, $(l.name), we! This is your victory, too.

{{GM}}The thin black cigar bounces excitedly in Kindly's mouth as she speaks.{{/GM}}

*We* will be the instruments of her destruction!

We're gonna *hurt* that woman.
{{GM}}Kindly's face is expressionless.{{/GM}}

If you have what I'm looking for, you will be rewarded.
{{GM}}The triad boss pulls out a cred stick and tosses it to you. The number on the data read-out is big. More than twice the payout of a single shadowrun.{{/GM}}

I'll let the credstick do the talking for me.
{{GM}}Her face falls.{{/GM}}

Then you'll need to manage your expectations better next time. There's a lot of nuyen on that credstick. More than twice the payout of a single shadowrun.

You want to keep it or not?
All this bullshit and I don't get *anything?*

{{GM}}She grabs a handful of mahjong tiles and drops them onto the table one by one.{{/GM}}

Fine. No sense crying over that, I have business to do. I need to focus on bringing "order" back into the Walled City and prestige to the Yellow Lotus.

That will cement me in my new position.
Sundowner Mk. 2
This classic hoverdrone can support the team with both medkits and concussion grenades.
Power Strike
A vicious whip attack. Does +4 DMG, +1 AP DMG and strips 2 Armor from the target.
Ghoul Spit
Gaichu spits infected saliva into the target's face. Ignores all armor. DMG: 8, with an additional 4 DMG for 2 rounds. Max range: 10.
Ghoul Spit: HP -4 per RND
{{GM}}A timid woman looks at you from her station.{{/GM}}

Excuse me, $(l.sir). The Tsang employees on this floor may only be seen through a pre-approved appointment. Do you... Do you have an appointment?
{{CC}}Etiquette: Shadowrunner{{/CC}} {{GM}}Show her your Tsang security passes.{{/GM}} I have a meeting with Mr. Johnson.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Security{{/CC}} {{GM}}Show her your Tsang security passes.{{/GM}} I'm head of an external group from Ares - well, Knight Errant, actually - and I'm here to perform an external verification of your response procedures.
I didn't realize that. I'll make an appointment and come back another time.
{{GM}}Stunned eyes meet yours. She knows what that means. You watch her muster up the courage to respond.{{/GM}}

Y-you'd better leave right now, or... Or I'm calling security! I don't know what kind community you think we are here at Tsang Industries, but I *do* know that--
{{GM}}Her eyelids flutter and she stops speaking. She appears to be listening to something - most likely through a headset. A moment later, her nervous expression melts into one of professional calm.{{/GM}}

Mr. Johnson will see you in the executive suite.
{{GM}}She gives you a sideways look.{{/GM}}

I don't recall there being an appointment for anything like that today. One moment, and I'll check with scheduling.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(scene.alarmCharismaValue_Medium){{/CC}} No need. I'm sure that, when it comes time for me to submit my report, a certain special receptionist's performance will be favorably mentioned at the top of this list.
If you have any doubts, ask this guard here to examine my passes. But I'm sure there's no need to bother hi--
{{GM}}She lights up.{{/GM}}

You would do that? I'm up for my quarterly review next week and I'm *really* hoping to go from facilitator four to facilitator five... A positive mention from you will help - I'm sure of it.

Oh, sorry, I'm holding you up. Good luck with your report, $(l.sir)!
{{GM}}The receptionist whips toward the guard.{{/GM}}

Pardon me, mister security guard - yes, you - may I please get your opinion on something? It seems to me that this $(l.man) should have a security escort if $(l.he)'s doing a security sweep. Is that correct?
$(l.he)'d damn well better.

{{GM}}The guard examines your passes. His eyes grow wide, and second later he howls into his comm.{{/GM}}

Security breach, office level!
{{GM}}A timid woman looks at you from her station.{{/GM}}

Excuse me, $(l.sir). The Tsang employees on this floor may only be seen through a pre-approved appointment. Not even maintenance is exempt. Do you... Do you have an appointment?
{{CC}}Charisma: $(scene.alarmCharismaValue_Easy){{/CC}} This will only take a second - just need to tweak some air units. If they get fixed on your watch, it'll look good on your record. Then I can get on with the rest of my work orders, too. A win for both of us. What do you say?
Sounds like the chumps back at the maintenance office forgot to make one. I'll come back another time.
{{GM}}She fiddles with an earring.{{/GM}}

I don't see why not... Just try to have an appointment ready next time, okay?

To access the air units, will you need employees to clear the area? I can get security to usher people out if that'd help.
No need to bother anyone; I can work around them. Have a good one.
You too, $(l.sir).
Oh, welcome back! I didn't realize you were here as maintenance earlier. I didn't see your uniform... My apologies.

Have you made an appointment through maintenance?
Damn. Those chumps back at the maintenance office still haven't set one up? I'll go have a word with them.
Firewall 3.0
Creates five squares of firewall that cause -50 IP when moving through it.
Air Barrier
Set 5 Light Cover barriers that last 3 RNDS. Anyone that enters takes -1 AP DMG.
Snap Fire
Target two enemies and then open fire on both.
This control panel seems to connect to the backup generators powering the disused section of the old Central MTR station. The readouts indicate that backup batteries have sufficient power to keep the lights on, but the remainder of the power is devoted to operating secondary doors.

If you could turn this off, you could prevent Knight-Errant forces from getting in except from the way you came.
{{CC}}Intelligence: $(story.global_skillcheck_medium){{/CC}} {{GM}}Power down secondary systems.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Have Racter power down the secondary systems.{{/GM}}
With a whine, the generators spin down and the lights go dim.
A tide of engrams rolls past. You hack into the flow, capturing a shard of distinct memories, crystalline and latticed. One of them shimmers whitely, standing apart by its radiance.
The scream wakes him like an old friend, as it does every night. He pulls the sheets away from his damp body and stumbles to the bathroom, his heart pounding. Rinses his face and the back of his neck with cool water.

He looks up from the basin into the mirror and finds an old man staring back at him. A terrified old man.
Spiritualist
Gain Ability:
Consume Spirit
Gobbet can now consume spirits and imbue herself with their power. Consuming a spirit heals Gobbet for 20 HP total over 2 RNDs, and her AP is increased by 1 during that time.
Gain Item:
Devil Rat Spirit Fetish
Gobbet now carries a Devil Rat Spirit Fetish in her standard equipment.
The energy here is still largely in balance. More damage can be done.

Unless the qi disruption reaches fairly high levels, you won't get paid.
Hold up, $(l.name). I'm not sure we should leave just yet. There's still more we can do to ruffle the qi here.
Just a moment, $(l.name). I'm as eager as you are to deface the temple, but we should be thorough. There's still more we can do here to disrupt the flow of qi.
Hey, we're not done here. Look around - there's still plenty to trash.
If we go upstairs toward the temple and are met by security, we won't have a chance to come back to this floor.
We're fine. We only need to hit a few more areas, so let's keep moving.
Makes sense. Let's take another look around before we head upstairs.
Wait. I sense there's still more we can do here to upset the flow of qi.
Wait. There are still things we can do here. We want to disrupt the qi as much as possible, right?
{{GM}}Move toward the elevator.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Go back to do more.{{/GM}}
Augment Summon: Shrine Spirits
Shrine Spirits summoned by Gobbet are now present for an additional turn before dispelling themselves, for a total of 3 RNDs.
Gain Rat Totem:
Steal Spirit
Gobbet's Rat Totem invocation can steal control of spirits that have been summoned by enemy shamans. Note that only one spirit can be under control until Rank 5 spirit control, where it increases to 2.
Augment Ability: Spirit Control
Spirits will never break away in the first two rounds after summoning them.
As the ghoul falls, you pause to collect yourself. The smell of blood and gore hangs heavy in the air.

What's done is done. Your contract with the Whampoans is complete - all that's left to do is inform them.
It's a shame we had to kill the ghoul. He seemed to have an interesting and unique perspective.

Still, we should be set for payment now. Shall we go?
I guess that's that. Too bad the guy was a serial killer. I know how he felt. If the Elders did screw him over like that, he had good cause to go after them. But the way that he did it, shit...

There are limits to what's acceptable.
Well. That's done.

I admit, I felt for the guy. But ghouls aren't people. They're plaguebearers. I think we did the right thing.
Really? That's what the fuss was about? For such a big boogeyman, he was kind of a damn pushover.

Come on, let's go get paid.
That was a great deal easier than the Elders led us to believe.

I do so love an easy payday. Shall we go tell them?
I guess that's that. He wasn't as hot shit as the Elders seemed to think.

Always nice when a job is easy to finish. Let's go collect our money.
Well. That's done.

Stinking ghouls, man... They're always bad news. I admit, a talking one is news to me, though.
Your commlink chirps, and Kindly Cheng's rusty voice slides through the speaker. You can hear the sounds of mahjong players laughing in the background.
It's Auntie Cheng, dear.
You've been gone awhile, Auntie. I wondered when you were coming back.
Listen, I'm kind of busy right now.
Let me guess, you've come back to tell me about another life-threatening shadowrun that would be perfect for someone of my talents.
My, but you sound happy, Auntie Cheng.
I'm here now, and I have a present for you, little one!

{{GM}}She sounds like a big cat sitting triumphant on the carcass of a wildebeest.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Her voice becomes comically obsequious.{{/GM}}

Oh, am I bothering you, my sweet? I'm so sorry! I just thought you'd want to know...

{{GM}}She pauses for effect.{{/GM}}
It's not a job, $(l.name). It's information.
I have a lead on the location of the Plastic-Faced Man. The man we saw in the surveillance footage meeting Raymond Black at the tea house on the docks.
How'd you get this lead?
Where is he?
The one who killed him.
I'll explain everything in person. Come see me and we'll talk.
Not on the comm. Come see me and we'll talk.
Not according to Mr. Gun Show. He believes his father is still alive.
I do, too.
You never know, I guess.
Raymond is dead. He just hasn't accepted it yet.
Do you? Well, you're more of an optimist than I am.

{{GM}}Her voice trails off for a moment.{{/GM}}
True, you never know. But it's rare in my experience for things like this to end positively.
In my experience, he'll keep on believing it until the facts hit him in the face.

{{GM}}Her voice takes on a more serious tone.{{/GM}}

You'd better be prepared for that day. He'll need you to be his anchor... or to hold his leash. Either way, he'll need you.
Now, get off the comm and come see me, little one. We have preparations to discuss.
Oh, I am, my sweet. I'm one step closer to breaking Josephine Tsang!
Mystic Armor
Active: The adept gains a further +2 Armor for 3 RNDS.
Mystic Armor: Armor +2
Mossberg CMDT (Smartlink)
Shotgun: The favorite shotgun of CorpSec worldwide, with an integral Smartlink system.
Firewall 1.0
Creates four squares of firewall that cause -25 IP when moving through it.
The MTR doors open as you approach.
{{GM}}Head to Whampoa Garden to discover who’s killing the Whampoan Elders.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Head to the outskirts of Tai Po to loot a dig site and museum for Mr. Drake.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Travel to the Wuxing Skytower to commit geomantic sabotage.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Travel to the Repulse Bay Hotel to dig up information on Neville Ma.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Travel to the Shangri-La to kidnap 'Rooster' Lo.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Head to the Ares facility to incite a conflict between Knight Errant and the Red Dragon Syndicate.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Transit to Kai Tak to board a chartered bus to DeckCon.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Travel to the Renraku warehouse in Tolo Harbour to ambush Gaichu’s old Red Samurai unit.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Go meet with Dreamland and see what she knows.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Go to Shek Kip Mei and acquire the Plastic-Faced Man's itinerary.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Infiltrate Prosperity Tower to rescue Raymond Black.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Stay here.{{/GM}}
As you move to board the train, your PDA buzzes.

Racter.
{{GM}}Answer the comm.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}His craggy face flickers onto the screen.{{/GM}}

My friend. There is something that I would like to discuss with you... something related to the Ares run that you recently accepted.
Go on, I'm listening.
That's funny. I was just heading out to do the job now.
Look, Racter, I'm a little busy right now.
You may recall my story about my former colleagues, Taylor and Hardingham. The ones who stole my research.

They work at that facility. If the auto-repair circuits that they took from me still exist, they are there. I need you to bring me on the run to retrieve them.
Of course. You'll be the first man on the train when we head out.
Maybe. We'll see.
Not gonna do it, sorry. The roster's all full up.
Thank you, my friend. I will be there directly.

You will not regret this decision - I guarantee it.
I'm afraid that won't be good enough. I need your answer, and I need it now.

Remember, this is tremendously important to me. Perhaps the most important thing that there is.
{{GM}}His voice goes hard.{{/GM}}

You must reconsider.

This is very important to me - I cannot stress how important.
All right, fine, you can come.
You can't come on the run, but I will get your prototype for you.
{{GM}}He gives you a terse nod, his jaw clenched. Koschei stands unnaturally still, but its sensor cluster irises in to focus on you.{{/GM}}

That will be... acceptable. But see to it that you do, my friend.

I *need* those circuits. And I will have them, one way or another.
There are men - former colleagues of mine - at that facility. I tracked them here from Russia.

They are thieves. They stole my research. Tracking them is the reason why I moved to Hong Kong in the first place.
At long last, I can recover what's mine and bring the villains who stole it to justice. But I will need your help to do it.

I want - no, *need* - you to bring me along on this job.
Will wonders never cease? An amazing coincidence, wouldn't you say?
That, or you're keeping tabs on me.
Stranger things have happened. What did you want to tell me?
Yeah, Racter. Sure. A coincidence.
You wound me, my friend. But I suppose that I can see why you'd think as much.

In any event, once you have heard the content of my message, and you will be thankful that I *did* call.
You sound skeptical... an understandable reaction. But please, do not get hung up on *how* I came to call you.

Once you have heard the content of my message, and you will simply be thankful that I *did* call.
This will take but a moment of your time, I promise you. Hearing me out will be to your benefit.
One shot. Can hit adjacent targets at ranges of 6 or greater.
The original name as been sloppily painted over with black paint. Newer but somewhat weathered characters have been painted in bold brush strokes and read "Bolthole".
The original name as been sloppily painted over with black paint. Freshly painted characters have been recently done in bold brush strokes and read "$(story.Global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName)".
Self AOE death
Using a Totem Power that DeBuffs your opponent.
Firewall 2.0
Creates five squares of firewall that cause -25 IP when moving through it.
Air Barrier 2
Set 4 Light Cover barriers that last 3 RNDS. Anyone that enters takes -1 AP DMG.
{{GM}}The guard watches you with suspicion as you approach.{{/GM}}

You seem confused, $(l.sir). Something I can help you with?
Yeah. I was just over at the check-in terminal. Noticed some loose, sparking wires. That's a fire hazard, isn't it?
{{GM}}She glances at the terminal.{{/GM}}

Thank you for informing us. We'll file a maintenance request right away.
But the terminal isn't letting me check in. How am I supposed to get any work done while your request sits on someone's table?
That process could take hours! You're really going to let something that dangerous sit around?
All right. Guess if the building burns down in the meantime, we know who to blame.
{{GM}}She looks around nervously, then leans in.{{/GM}}

Yes... Yes, you're right. Let's lower our voice, hm? No need to drag the captain into this.
We can handle this quickly if you tell the maintenance worker. I'll let you in this once, but you can't tell anyone. Got it?

{{GM}}She turns to the door.{{/GM}}

Now hurry it up!
Yeah. I need to get into the maintenance room.
Just clocking in. {{GM}}Give Authentic Employee ID.{{/GM}}
No, thanks.
{{GM}}Her eyes narrow.{{/GM}}

Are you with maintenance?
{{CC}}Charisma: 3{{/CC}} Are you telling me that, after my *nine* years of working here, you don't recognize me? What kind of half-cracked guards is Wuxing hiring these days?
Show me your ID, please.
{{GM}}Give spoofed ID.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Give Authentic Employee ID.{{/GM}} Here you are.
I don't have it on me. Be right back.
{{GM}}She examines the card.{{/GM}}

This doesn't give you access to our maintenance facilities. If you're with another Wuxing maintenance crew, your ID won't work here. Only in your jurisdiction.

I can't let you through.
{{GM}}She examines the card.{{/GM}}

It's odd that someone from research wants in, but it says you're cleared.

Here, let me get the door for you.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

Take your time. I'll be here.
Then you can't enter.
{{GM}}The guard hastily scans your face.{{/GM}}

I... I don't... please forgive me, $(l.sir). Just let me see your ID, and I'll let you through.
*Fine,* we'll do this the long way. I don't have it on me right now. Be right back.
All right. Have a nice day.
{{GM}}The powerful troll watches you impassively as you approach, her expression unchanging.{{/GM}}

You look like the kind of person who might be interested in some hardware. You got a need, I can give you a solution.

You game?
Hey again. You need something else?
How about some information? Anybody strange hanging around tonight?
{{GM}}The troll eyes you impassively, taking a long time to ponder before speaking.{{/GM}}

250 nuyen, and I tell you everything I know.
{{CC}}¥250{{/CC}} Here you go.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Socialite{{/CC}} I'm a personal friend of Kindly Cheng's. You help me out, I put in a good word for you. Maybe expand your distribution channels.
{{GM}}The vendor pockets the credstick without even looking at it.{{/GM}}

Much obliged.
I saw some Tsunami mercenaries arming up, further down the canal. Drove right by 'em as they were strapping on armor and checking their guns. They didn't look particularly happy to be here, but I don't blame them. This is Combat, Inc's backyard, and they wouldn't be welcome here.

You got business with them, keep it away from my van.
{{GM}}Wu gives a sharp intake of breath, rocking back on his heels.{{/GM}}

Tsunami's bad news, $(l.name). Top tier private military contractor - tanks, close air support, dedicated naval transport division. You name it, they have it. They're not the kind of muscle you hire on the cheap. They cost a lotta nuyen.
{{GM}}Gaichu cocks his head, lips peeling away from his teeth.{{/GM}}

Tsunami is a name I am familiar with. A Japanese private military firm. Very large, and very capable.

If they're in the streets of Ho Chung, someone has paid very good money for them.
{{GM}}Is0bel's face goes ashen as she hears the troll's words.{{/GM}}

Those are some heavy hitters. They're a big ticket mercenary company out of Okinawa. They've got tanks, aircraft, a matrix division - you name it. If you want them, you have to pay top dollar.
{{GM}}Racter arches his eyebrows, looking up from his bracer in surprise.{{/GM}}

Tsunami, you say? That's a very expensive mercenary company for a mid-level researcher to hire. Even if Garrett had cause to fear for his life due to the Seoulpas, the minimum outlay for a Tsunami team is extremely high.
Tsunami, huh? I've heard of those guys. A pack of private thugs that hire out to the bidder with the fattest wallet.

They've got it all: tanks, ships, aircraft. I think they even have some of their own spy satellites. They'd have cost Garrett a lot of money if he hired them - and he didn't exactly seem flush with cash.
What does Tsunami do?
They're a private military company. They run out of Okinawa, and tend to hire a lot of metahumans who'd otherwise be deported from Japan.

Pretty tough group - they've got tanks, ships, aircraft, and a matrix division. They're one of the big five for mercenary companies, and tied for the biggest in Asia.
{{GM}}The troll shrugs.{{/GM}}

I don't know what they're doing out in Ho Chung, and I don't really care so long as I don't get shot at.

Looked like a protection detail, though. I didn't catch how many there were, but it was less than ten. They're well-geared, but they didn't look like they had anything heavier than rifles or a grenade launcher.
{{GM}}The troll thinks, and then nods enthusastically.{{/GM}}

All right, you've got yourself a deal.
The ultimate adept outfit for the ultimate adept. Grants +1 Willpower, +1 Move Speed, and +1 Dodge.
Scatter Shot
Imbalances targets, making them easier to hit on subsequent attacks by 6%.
Repair
Racter remotely reroutes his drone to use backup circuits, repairing the most recent battle damage.
Swipe
A basic swipe with the hand-razors.
SuperheroMage
Dozens of immaculately pressed and folded suits hang from this rack.
This isn't a wardrobe. It's the whole damn department store.

{{GM}}She sighs.{{/GM}}

When I was a kid, the price of just one of these suits could've fed me for a year.
A glint of metal shines from the breast pocket of one of the hanging suit jackets. Looks like a standard issue hotel keycard.

You pocket it before moving on.
{{GM}}Duncan lets out a low whistle.{{/GM}}

What a closet. I'll bet Ma spent more on these than I did on my business.
Nice threads. Looks like they're made of that new biodegradable crap. Ma must've spent a mint on them.
{{GM}}Racter raises an eyebrow.{{/GM}}

Quite the wardrobe. But an ostentatious display of wealth. How grotesque.
Slug Round
One shot. Pierces up to 3 Armor. Cannot hit adjacent targets.
A slender human woman in shabby overalls looks up from her work with a frown.

You can't help but notice the scars on her neck.
{{GM}}Her eyes flit from you to Is0bel. When they land on Gobbet, her face lights up.{{/GM}}

I'll be damned. Gobbet?
Hello, Yasmin. It's good to see you again.
Yeah, you too! Where the hell have you been all these years?
On a different boat, funny enough.

Yaz... I'm a little out of the loop on what's happening here. Could you do me a solid and fill us in?
Yeah. We're... we're not supposed to talk about it... but I'll tell you what I know.
Tell us what's been happening here.
Have you had any close encounters with the devil rats?
We're taking the ship back, Yasmin. We need your help.
Cadmus said that you were in charge of building the trap at the end of the hall.
{{GM}}Leave.{{/GM}} I'll leave you to your work.
{{GM}}She eyes you warily.{{/GM}}

I'm nobody important. Just a worker trying to keep this thing afloat.

Let's leave it at that, if you please.
{{GM}}She looks uneasy.{{/GM}}

Well... we're all struggling to deal with the devil rat infestation. You probably know about them.

With all of the rats around, there aren't many volunteers for the maintenance crews any more. It gets lonely out here.
{{GM}}She abruptly stops talking. Her cheeks flush red.{{/GM}}

That's it. That's all that I have to say.
Yaz. You're talking to *me* here. So tell me what's going on.

I can't help you if I don't know what's happening.
Yasmin's eyes dart up and down the hall, scanning for anyone who might be coming. Her hands begin to shake.

After a moment, she leans toward Gobbet and lowers her voice to a whisper.
...Yeah. All right.

{{GM}}She swallows.{{/GM}}

This raft is cursed.
By the Rat King, you mean.

Your brother told us all about it.
{{GM}}Her voice comes out in a terrified whisper.{{/GM}}

Yes. It has spies everywhere. Rats... those little monsters and the kind on two legs.

If you don't do what it says, things happen to you. And it talks over the intercom using Malvina's voice, but it *isn't her.*
I know, Yaz. One way or another, I'm going to kill it.
{{GM}}The whisper changes. Becomes fierce. Her eyes burn with intensity.{{/GM}}

*Good.*
I think that I know what you're talking about, Yaz... I could feel it all the way back home. But tell me more... I want to hear it from you.
Malvina isn't in charge here any more. She's gone now... I think she may be dead. And whatever it is that's taken her place, it's horrible.

I don't even know what it is, but it isn't human. And the worst part is, it talks over the intercom using *her voice.*
She claps a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. Her entire body is shaking.
Thanks, Yaz. That helps. Believe it or not, it helps.
She nods mutely, still struggling to calm herself.
Yeah. Don't go downstairs unless you absolutely have to.

The lower decks are absolutely crawling with the things.
{{GM}}Her eyes go wide.{{/GM}}

Another mutiny? No. Not me... go to someone else.

I saw what happened last time.
Last time, you didn't have me here.

We're gonna kill the monster that stole Malvina's voice, Yaz. You've got my word on that.
She stares at Gobbet, long and hard. Finally, she acquiesces with a nod.
...All right, Gobbet. I'm in. I'm terrified, but I'm in.

{{GM}}Her voice breaks, but she continues on.{{/GM}}

I'm not fighter. I keep the ship afloat. But whatever I can do, I'll help.
You'll be okay, Yasmin. I promise.

Circle up with your brother - I'm sending everyone we can convince to help to meet up with him in the sickroom. He'll tell you what to do from there.
Yeah, that was me. I didn't want to build the thing, but I did it to help Malvina. To keep us safe.

I've regretted it ever since.
We could really use your help, Yaz. We need to get below decks, and we need to do it in one piece.

Can you help us to get past the trap that you built?
I... I think so

It's been a long time, but I think I remember what wires you'd need to snip to disarm the thing.
{{GM}}She fumbles at a nearby table. Grabs a napkin. Then she produces a grease pencil from her breast pocket and begins to draw.{{/GM}}

There's a hidden access panel in the floor. You'd never find if if you didn't know where to look.
...You snip these wires here, and this one here... bypass this circuit...

{{GM}}She scribbles on the napkin with a steady hand.{{/GM}}

...And then flip this lever. Do that and you're done, the trapdoor won't trigger and you won't get dumped into the Killing Pit.
"Killing Pit"?
{{GM}}She passes the napkin to Gobbet.{{/GM}}

It's pretty much what you'd expect.
{{GM}}She snatches the napkin from Yasmin's hand.{{/GM}}

Thanks, Yaz. You don't know how badly we needed this.
I can guess. Cadmus sent you to me, after all.

{{GM}}She smiles weakly.{{/GM}}

Best of luck.
Yeah, thanks. And be careful out there.
Do I know you? What are you doing on this raft?
We're looking for a friend of ours. She's an ork, about nineteen, goes by the name of Gobbet. Have you seen her?
We're here to help you. Could you answer a few questions for me?
{{GM}}Her eyes narrow.{{/GM}}

Gobbet? I haven't seen her for years.

You've got the wrong raft. Now, unless there's anything else...
{{GM}}She frowns.{{/GM}}

All right, but make it quick. I've got work to do.
Gobbet! You're back!
Look, I've already told that I've got work to do. Please... go bother someone else.
Deflect II
Reduces incoming DMG by 4. Lasts 2 RNDS.
Deflect: Incoming DMG -4
Firearm Systems
Designed and built by Racter.
Class B Drone Mortar
The shadowrunners' footsteps quickly fall away and then you're alone with Wu. He grunts something unintelligible and begins panther-stalking back and forth again, bootprints of sewer water and muck marking his path on the subway platform behind him.
Minutes pass. Wu stops his pacing and runs both hands over his face, groaning a sound of anxiety and disgust. It dissipates and he stands there silently, his hands covering his face and his shoulders shaking with emotion.

Then he begins to laugh. It's a laugh that comes from down deep, from the place where fear and frustration and impotence swirl.
But the barrier holds. Wu focuses, taking control of his breathing, and his laughter begins to slow. He becomes himself again.
Oh my god, $(l.firstname)...

{{GM}}An aftershock of laughter shudders through him.{{/GM}}

Are you fucking kidding me?
What the hell are we *doing* here? How did we get *into* this?
{{GM}}He drops his hands and turns to you, shaking his head in disbelief.{{/GM}}

I think I'm gonna lose it.
Go ahead. We're alone.
Do what you've got to do but make it fast.
Bullshit. You're a rock.
Wu walks to the wall of the subway station silently. He stands there a moment lost in thought, and then his fists explode in a flurry of punches. He hits the wall hard, sending plaster crumbling to the floor at his feet.
The ork breathes heavily for a moment, head down, hands on hips. Spent.
{{GM}}He glares at you.{{/GM}}

Make it fast? What -
{{GM}}He exhales hard, and nods his head over and over.{{/GM}}

I'm trying to maintain. Seriously, I am.

But -
Carter is *dead*, $(l.firstname).

They fucking *ended* her.
{{GM}}He puts a hand to his forehead.{{/GM}}

I don't know what I'm gonna do now.
Just focus on finding Raymond.
What are you talking about? You crawled out of worse places before you met her.
Sounds like she was more than just your partner.
So that's it? Just throw Carter down the memory hole and bury her deep?

Put my partner's death behind me and carry on like a good little Lone Star?
He holds up a hand: "Don't answer."
{{GM}}His voice goes flat. He's done.{{/GM}}

It doesn't matter anymore. We're stuck in this country. Surrounded by criminals.
And the police - the *police* are trying to blow our heads off.

{{GM}}He grabs the back of his neck. Squeezes.{{/GM}}

Screw it - maybe I should just let 'em. You know why?
{{GM}}He allows his head to loll to the side. Whispers.{{/GM}}

Maybe. But that was a long time ago.

{{GM}}He sighs.{{/GM}}

And I had Raymond then.
Seems like you've grown a lot since then. You still need Raymond?
I get it. J'ai compris.
He was hard on you, Duncan.
{{GM}}That triggers him.{{/GM}}

Of course I still need Raymond, $(l.firstname)! He's my *father*, don't you get it? Did you *ever* get it? Look at what he did for me. Did for *us!* Think of everything he taught us.

{{GM}}His jaw juts forward.{{/GM}}

You want me to forget that?
I never said you should forget about your father, Duncan.
No. I don't want you to forget that.
He starts an angry retort. Stops himself, mouth open.
{{GM}}His head rolls back on his neck and he speaks to the ceiling, exasperated.{{/GM}}

Maybe I should. Maybe I should forget it *all.*

Raymond. The house. The academy. Carter.

I might as well throw them all down the memory hole. You know why?
{{GM}}He nods. Hard.{{/GM}}

Good. Because I won't. I'm not gonna forget Raymond. Or the house. Or the academy.

Or Carter.
He stops himself there. Let's out a laugh. It's not the good kind of laugh.
{{GM}}His head rolls back on his neck and he speaks to the ceiling, amused.{{/GM}}

But I'll tell you something - I might as well. I might as well forget it *all* now.

Throw it all down the memory hole and bury it deep.

You know why?
{{GM}}That triggers him.{{/GM}}

The hell you do.

You only saw the beginning - the old man taking us in. Handing me my ass until I straightened out.

You only saw me straighten out. I only started to fly right after you left.
Raymond's the one who helped me get into the academy. Sat on me until I did my homework. Checked on every assignment.

Every. Single. Assignment.
{{GM}}His breathing becomes ragged. He mumbles.{{/GM}}

And he didn't care that I was a goddamn ork.
{{GM}}Both hands on his face now. He's completely covered.{{/GM}}

Raymond. The house. The academy. Carter.

I'm throwing it all down the memory hole and burying it deep.
{{GM}}His hands drop in defeat.{{/GM}}

You know why?
Yeah, he was. And now look at me. I'm a cop. I have a career.
{{GM}}He turns to you with a blank face.{{/GM}}

More than just a partner? Of course she was -
{{GM}}Then he gets it and his hackles raise.{{/GM}}

She was my training officer, you idiot. My mentor.
Idiot?
I didn't mean anything by it.
It looked like you two were close.
{{GM}}Wu waves you off with a gnarled hand.{{/GM}}

Carter was my *partner.* She had my *back.*

Do you get how important that is? What it means to lose that?
When you're out there on the streets facing down a food riot, you need to *know* someone's looking out for you. That you're standing next to someone you can depend on.

That was Carter.
{{GM}}His shoulders slump and he exhales heavily.{{/GM}}

And she was like my compass. Or my anchor.

Or some such shit.

She kept me... I don't know. Sane.
Sounds like a good woman.
You're sane, Duncan. This is shock and grief.
I get it. She was important to you and she got killed. Now try to focus so *we* don't get killed.
Don't patronize me, $(l.firstname).

{{GM}}He steps back, sucking in a deep breath.{{/GM}}
Yeah... yeah, I suppose so.

{{GM}}He steps back, sucking in a deep breath.{{/GM}}
Wu glares at you, his right hand flexing. Then he steps back, sucking in a deep breath.
Screw it.

Whatever she was, I'm throwing her down the memory hole. You know why?

{{GM}}He snarls. Spits.{{/GM}}

Because it doesn't matter now.
Because we're gonna BURN OUR SINs, $(l.firstname).

Jesus Christ, do you get what that *means?*

The moment we do that, we're dead. To all the world, we're dead. We're wiped clean.
{{GM}}He counts it off on his fingers.{{/GM}}

Raymond, the house we grew up in, my career... Carter. All gone. No home. No money. No identity. Nothing.

{{GM}}He waves his hand, brushes it all away.{{/GM}}

We will be nobody.
We were street kids, Duncan. We're used to being nobody. Just chill.
I'm gonna find a way out of this. Just follow my lead like you did in the old days.
Enough with the drama, Wu. Put on your big boy pants and help me find a way out of this.
Chill? Who the fuck are you to tell me to *chill* after what just happened? And you aren't losing what *I'm* about to lose, either. Our paths went in different directions a long time ago.

{{GM}}Wu's neck cranes forward, his lower jaw thrust out ahead of him.{{/GM}}

You left me behind, goddamn it.

You left me *behind.*
"You left me behind."

Memories flash bright. Suddenly, you're back eight years ago, on the street outside of Raymond's house. Just you and Wu. The middle of the night.
You want to bring up the old days?

Are you fucking *serious?* You left the old days behind *years ago.*

{{GM}}Wu's neck cranes forward, his lower jaw thrust out ahead of him.{{/GM}}

You left *me* behind.
Put on your big boy pants? I've been wearing big boy pants for years. And who the fuck are *you* to tell me that after *all this time?*

{{GM}}Wu's neck cranes forward, his lower jaw thrust out ahead of him.{{/GM}}

You left me behind, $(l.firstname).

You left me *behind.*
You can't just *leave* like this, $(l.firstname)!

What am I gonna say to Raymond? You know how he is.
Yeah, I know how he is. Inflexible.
Sorry man. Gotta go.
I got something to attend to, Duncan. And it can't wait.
Exactly.

We're breaking one of his rules just being *outside the house* after curfew.
Seriously? That's it?
That's what you keep saying - but you still won't tell me what's going on!
What is so important that you have to run out now, in the middle of the night, without even telling Raymond why?

{{GM}}He's distraught. You can see it on his face, hear it in his voice. He used to be lost without you.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Truth.{{/GM}} It's a job. Too good to pass up. C'mon, Duncan - we could use you. You're good in a fight.
{{GM}}Truth.{{/GM}} Some people messed with me, and I don't intend on letting them get away with it. Could use your help.
{{GM}}Truth.{{/GM}} I need to see a guy about a deal. The good kind. The big kind.
{{GM}}Truth.{{/GM}} I've got a friend in a bind, Duncan. That's all I can say about it. I *have* to go help.
{{GM}}Truth.{{/GM}} Sorry, Duncan. I can't talk about it. I would if I could.
{{GM}}His eyes widen.{{/GM}}

A job that's too good to pass up? I thought... I thought we left that shit behind, $(l.firstname).
{{GM}}His eyes widen.{{/GM}}

I can't... I can't give you help like that anymore. I'm on a good path now, $(l.firstname). I can't afford to mess that up.
{{GM}}His eyes widen.{{/GM}}

A deal? I thought... I thought we left that shit behind, $(l.firstname).
{{GM}}His eyes widen.{{/GM}}

I thought I knew all your friends.

{{GM}}He shakes his head.{{/GM}}

I don't like this, $(l.firstname). It sounds like... it sounds like the kind of shit we said we'd leave behind.
{{GM}}His eyes widen.{{/GM}}

Can't talk about it?

{{GM}}He shakes his head.{{/GM}}

I don't like this, $(l.firstname). It sounds like... it sounds like the kind of shit we said we'd leave behind.
Look. Whatever's going on, I can tell you one thing - Raymond will *not* approve.
I'll deal with that when I get back. I won't be gone long. Two, three days tops.
I know. Why do you think I'm sneaking out? Be back before the weekend.
Raymond doesn't approve of anything but the life of a wage-slave. See you in a couple of days.
You remember the look on Duncan's face as you walked away. The events that followed were a blur, one that you don't care to remember.

Three days later, you were behind bars in a private corporate prison. No interrogation, no charges, no appeal.
Years later, some corporation bought some other corporation, and the new board of directors pushed through some sort of "reform" agenda, and the higher-ups gave an order...

And then you were out, with few hundred nuyen to your name, and one scary-as-hell nondisclosure agreement ensuring your silence.
Not that it mattered to you anymore. You were starting fresh. Determined.
Until Raymond tracked you down. Left you that voicemail. Brought you to Hong Kong, and back together with Duncan Wu.
You realize that Wu's been staring at you.
Now let's hear it. Where the hell have you been all this time? Why didn't you contact me?

At least to tell me you were alive.
I wanted to, Duncan. But I was locked up tight. Corporate black site. No communication.
It's not my fault, all right? I was in a cell, Wu. The deep, dark kind.
You're pissed that I didn't contact you? I was locked up, Duncan. For years! You're a cop, why didn't you go looking for me?
No shit?

{{GM}}He squints at you, full lie-detector mode.{{/GM}}

Oh. Fuck. I... I had no idea.
You think I *didn't?*

I tried everything. You were completely off the grid!

{{GM}}The information finally sinks in, and he dials back the attitude.{{/GM}}

...And now I understand why. Locked up, huh? Shit.
A range of emotions play across Wu's face. He stares at the ground for some time, before finally looking back up at you with a heavy sigh.
Wow. I really don't know how to process that one right now. I...

{{GM}}He shakes his head.{{/GM}}

I don't know. If we're still alive tomorrow, we can talk more. This shit is too much.
We're marooned on this island, hunted by the cops, my partner is dead, Raymond is missing, and we're about to go see a crime lord about erasing our goddamn identities!

And as a bonus, our only allies are a pair of tiny criminals who would kill us if they could so they didn't have to deal with this.

{{GM}}He rubs his head viciously.{{/GM}}
Listen, $(l.firstname). Back in the Barrens. Whenever I was out of control, you just *handled* the situation. Remember?

With Carter gone... I'm just a raw nerve. I'm afraid I'm gonna slip back... and people are gonna start getting hurt again.
I got your back, Duncan.
I got the lead, Duncan. Just like I used to.
No one's going to get killed, Duncan.
He stares at you hard. Like he's trying to see something inside your head.
{{GM}}His voice comes out flat.{{/GM}}

We'll see. Just don't press it.

I need time to get used to...you.
Now let's go meet that triad woman and get our damn SINs burned.

I want to rip off the bandage as fast as I can.
{{GM}}Then he checks his weapon. Cocks and locks. Back to business.{{/GM}}

Good.
I got a feeling you're gonna be very, very wrong about that, $(l.firstname).
He checks his weapon. Cocks and locks. Back to business.
Does an additional +4 HP DMG over the weapon's base DMG. Ignores the weapon's AP damage. -15% to hit.
As you approach the door you hear a lock engage with an audible snick. A security camera swivels to your face.

You hear a crackle of static, and a tinny voice warbles out of a hidden speaker.
Go. Away.
I just want to talk.
It's cool, man, I'm going.
I was hoping that we could do business together.
The intercom clicks off.
Magewear for those who live on the streets. Grants +1 Willpower and +5 HP.
Ku Feng takes a bite out of her foe, restoring 8 HP over two rounds and gaining 1 Strength through the consumption of their flesh. +2 HP DMG, +1 AP DMG. Cooldown: 2.
It's a crew computer
{{GM}}Search log entries.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Search diary entries.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Log off.{{/GM}}
Here is a root ship's log entry area.
Entry 1
Entry 2
Entry 3
Talkin' about being in port in Tacoma and taking on cargo from Eastern Tiger.
Talk about attempted pirate boarding outside of Perth. Elves! Why elves, he wonders?
Talk about nearing Hong Kong and increasing pirate attempts. He suspects something is up and this is a targeted series of events. Didn't recognize their language (sperethiel)
Hey, it's private diaries!
Suspicions about cargo from Eastern Tiger. Horrible stuff. Extra power precautions to make sure if the ship loses power, it doesn't.
Today when he was checking the cargo, he could swear it was watching him with one of its eyes.
Today, it moved! He'll be glad to be done with it.
A poison fist that does DMG and then causes -4 HP for 1 RND.
Infection: HP -4 per RND
Sorry, $(l.sir). The elevator systems are experiencing a temporary interruption of service. Until they're back up, I'm afraid you'll have to use the stairs.
Good evening. May I see your guest pass?
The receptionist didn't give me one.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(story.global_skillcheck_hard){{/CC}} I'm here to collect a bounty on this ghoul.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Security{{/CC}} I'm here off the books. Freelance talent.
I'm sorry to inform you that you'll have to stay on this floor without an escort, then. Company protocol, you understand.
{{GM}}The Knight Errant guard stands silently for a moment, but eventually replies.{{/GM}}

He's... alive. That's unusual.
That's because he used to work for Renraku's military.
Wrong kind of bounty, actually.
Ahh, I see. A defector, then.

I'll make a note in the system that you're allowed upstairs. Keep to unrestricted areas, or we'll be forced to treat you as hostile. Have a pleasant evening.
I was a member of Renraku's military for many years. Since becoming infected, they disowned me. I assumed my knowledge could be useful for Ares operations in Asia.
Yeah, I thought you had that kind of look to you.

Mr. Johnson's office is on floor 40. Don't go anywhere else, or we'll have to treat you as an intruder. Have a pleasant evening.
Hey! Shit-for-brains! No elevator access without a pass!

You walk in there, my gun's clearing the holster.
This advanced drone weapon can fire in single, burst, or full-auto mode.
Medic 1.0
Heals yourself or a friendly target for 50 IP.
A standard-model terminal. Everything looks fairly basic, including its controls.

You notice something flashing in the corner of the screen - a message entitled "URGENT."
{{GM}}Open the message.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Reboot the controls.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}>>URGENT
>>*Yung, Thomas*
>>to: Maintenance Office{{/GM}}

Li,

I need you to get your team together and fix the climate turbine. Make it top priority.
It's been radiating heat on warm days, and cooling on cold days. People around the office are getting pissy. I'm not going to take their shit on your behalf, so the longer you wait, the more your quarterly review will suffer.

Thomas Yung
Vice President of Building Maintenance
Attached to the message is a work order. A red sentence reads, "Accept task? Y/N."
{{GM}}Accept the work order.{{/GM}}
A standard-model terminal. Everything looks fairly basic, including its controls.
{{GM}}Reboot the flow regulator controls.{{/GM}}
A standard-model terminal. Everything looks fairly basic, including its controls.

There's nothing left to do here.
{{GM}}As you exit the MTR and step into the Tolo Harbour streets, you are blessedly spared from rain. An ebb in the constant monsoon combined with the sweltering heat has left the concrete - and your body - blessedly free of moisture. Gaichu casts a glance at you, and he nods in satisfaction.{{/GM}}

This is the facility. Past that fence is the warehouse and test laboratories. Ishida and his team should arrive mere minutes after we breach their defenses.
Sounds good to me. What kind of initial opposition will we face?
Shouldn't we try and make this stealthy and give ourselves time to get into position?
Is there anything I should know about this place?
While the Red Samurai provide a good backup team, there are too few of them to mount a standing guard. This means that we will be facing standard Renraku security forces.

While they are not as potent as better-equipped security - Knight-Errant, for instance - they are still skilled combatants.
{{GM}}Gobbet grins widely, tossing her ropes of hair over one shoulder.{{/GM}}

Great! I love dealing with corporate security. They're like a steak: you're never surprised by what you get, but you're never disappointed, either.

This is sounding just fine, Nibbles.
{{GM}}Inclining his head respectfully, Gaichu matches Gobbet's grin with a small one of his own.{{/GM}}

I am glad it meets with your approval, Gobbet. I would hate to think you were bored.
{{GM}}Wu grunts, nodding in satisfaction.{{/GM}}

Good. Corporate goons I know what to do with. No crazy-ass ninjas or samurai - just guys with rifles and armor.

That's the kind of opposition I'm good at handling.
So long as you do not underestimate them, we should be fine. I trust your skills in combat.

{{GM}}Gaichu flexes one hand, claws glinting under the sodium streetlights.{{/GM}}

Between these and your rifle, I suspect they will not stand a chance.
{{GM}}Is0bel puts a fist on one hip, looking up at Gaichu.{{/GM}}

So these guys aren't as potent in meatspace as their matrix counterparts? Securitech International is nothing to scoff at, and they're generally guarding pretty heavy duty hosts.
No, they are not as well-equipped or trained as their Securitech brethren. Still, they carry a variety of assault weapons and wear heavy armor.

They are above average opponents, so it would behoove you not to underestimate them.
Wonderful. If nothing else, we can count on opposition that's bad at improvisation. That's always a good advantage to have.

{{GM}}Racter pats Koschei's chassis, and the drone whirrs in response.{{/GM}}

This seems like a job that we should be able to accomplish quickly.
Indeed. I think we will be able to return to Heoi before too much time has passed.

Just be careful, and do not overextend yourself. Predictable thought Renraku security may be, they are still dangerous.
Shall we make our move, $(l.name)? Lead the way, and I shall follow.
Let's do it.
{{GM}}Gaichu shakes his head.{{/GM}}

That will not be possible, I am afraid. A facility of this importance warrants a maximum security presence. Any covert points of entry will be guarded and trapped.

We will have no choice but to go in through the front door.
Not that I am aware of, no. Standard defenses will be in place - Renraku is nothing if not predictable. There will be armed guards with orders to shoot trespassers on sight, biometrically locked doors, a secure matrix host with Black IC.

The facility itself should have guards both inside, and in the outer courtyards.
{{GM}}Henry stabs a finger into David's chest and speaks in a low hiss.{{/GM}}

You stole my business, and I know it. You might've picked this fight, but I'm going to win it. Fair and fucking square. Show you how those with integrity operate, you cheat!
{{GM}}David's mouth eases into a contented smirk.{{/GM}}

You want to lose face twice in one day? I'm happy to oblige. But not in here. I'll be damned if the Shangri-La bans me for thrashing a worthless crapstain like you on their property.

Let's finish this outside. *Now.*
Fine. But don't think that this'll give you any sort of advantage. It only means I won't have to hold back.

Let's go!
A keypad awaits your input.
98144
There is a barely audible click, and the door unlocks.
Are you and your men ready yet? I have a timetable to keep.
Don't rush me. You hauled my team halfway across the world for this little adventure of yours, and we've just gotten off the plane. The contract says we'll be ready by 0300 hours, and we will.

In the meantime, get the hell off my back.
{{GM}}Tigath's expression is one of barely restrained anger. His hands ball up into fists.{{/GM}}

You'd better be, you little toad. This is a matter of national security for Tir Tairngire, and given what you're billing me, I expect nothing but perfection.
{{GM}}The mercenary commander is utterly unimpressed by Tigath's impotent rage.{{/GM}}

Spare me. That kind of line might work on rank and file troops, but this isn't my first day on the job. Without my troops, you'd be stuck hiring local scrubs with zip-guns.

As it is, I'm only here because my boss likes your brother.
{{GM}}The elf's eyes narrow to razored slits, and he jabs a finger toward the mercenary.{{/GM}}

Just be ready, mercenary. I've paid you for your time, and for the duration of this mission, I expect your loyalty as well.
I'll do my job, Wright. That's what you're paying me for. You do yours.

I want to get out of this forsaken pit and catch the next flight back home.
This bookshelf is made from your standard stained-wood. It's filled with books by famous poets, both English and Chinese.
{{CC}}Intelligence: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Easy){{/CC}} {{GM}}Look at the books.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Strength: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Hard){{/CC}} {{GM}}Check for anything unusual.{{/GM}}
Gaichu, can you help me out with this bookshelf?
You find several books that aren't organized properly - and they don't appear to be poetry.

Removing the books and thumbing through them reveals nothing else unusual.
You throw the books from the shelves and then break each shelf in half, exposing the back of the bookshelf.

A knock on the back panel reveals a hollow space behind the fixture. That's unusual.
{{GM}}Smash through the bookshelf.{{/GM}}
Hmm. It's attached to the wall. A solid build.

{{GM}}Gaichu knocks on the side of it. Sniffs the air.

He throws the books from the shelves and then breaks each shelf in half, exposing the back of the bookshelf.{{/GM}}
A knock on the back panel reveals a hollow space behind the fixture. Gaichu's sword plunges through it.

Returning his blade it to its sheath, he gives the panel a kick, sending splintered wood into a chamber behind the now obliterated bookshelf.
After you.
Thanks...
The bare back of the bookshelf is exposed, its shelves either ripped off or hanging from hinges.
Judging by the patches sewn onto his bomber jacket, this elf is from the NAN - Council Island, to be specific. A forested chunk of rock in the middle of Lake Washington that was called Mercer Island until the Native American Nations reclaimed it.

He doesn't look Amerindian, though. If anything, he looks Chinese in descent, though his mask makes it hard to tell for sure.
He turns to face you at your approach, and you see the high steel collar and the spiky hair that the dwarf in the kitchen described.

This is the guy who tripped her. The one whom she wants you to knock out.
{{GM}}The decker's eyes track from you to Gaichu, and his face lights up.{{/GM}}

Hey, man, nice costume! That armor almost looks like real metal!

{{GM}}He leans in for a closer look.{{/GM}}

What's it made out of? Foam? Thermoplastic?
It is metal. Dikoted and battle worn.

{{GM}}Brief pause.{{/GM}}

I am... very devoted to authenticity.
{{GM}}His jaw drops open.{{/GM}}

No drek? Man, how rich *are* you? That stuff isn't cheap!

{{GM}}He shifts his attention to you.{{/GM}}

And, uh... did you want something from me? What's up?
{{GM}}Punch him in the face.{{/GM}}
I've heard that you've been giving one of the caterers a hard time.
Just wanted to get to know my fellow con-goers. You from Council Island?
Is there anything in specific that you're here to see?
Gotta go, sorry.
Your fist connects with his jaw with a sickening crack. His head snaps back, and he falls like a log to the hotel floor.

All around you, you hear a smattering of polite applause. A few nearby deckers look upset, but they turn away and hide their faces when you make eye contact.
{{GM}}He smirks at you.{{/GM}}

A caterer? Who?
Larissa. The petite dwarf with dark hair. She says that you knocked her down and made her drop a tray of wine.
You know who, laughing boy. The dwarf that you tripped.
Come on, man. You know who I'm talking about.
Oh, her? Yeah, I tripped her up. It was funny as hell, she went down like a sack of potatoes, and all the crystal shattered when it hit the floor.

But she deserved it.
{{GM}}Punch him.{{/GM}} Well, that's all that I needed to hear.
Deserved it? How?
I don't want to hurt you, but that dwarf has something I need, and she wants me to knock you on your ass. Can you see my dilemma?
The dumb halfer talked down to me... *me,* the son of a diplomat.

She had to learn that you don't *do* that. Especially not when *I'm* rich, and *she's* the help. That isn't how life works!
She was right. You're in serious need of a broken jaw.
You need an attitude adjustment, friend. Thankfully, I know how to hand them out - it's my job.
I actually agree with you, but that dwarf has something I need. Sorry about this, it's nothing personal.
I don't want to hit you, but I need that caterer to think that I did. So we're going to do a little role-playing.
Wait. What?
So I'm going to break your jaw now. Wait for it...
What?!
Wait, what?
Whoa, whoa - are you threatening me?

{{GM}}His expression fills with righteous indignation.{{/GM}}

*You?* A punk off the street? Don't you know who my father is?!
{{GM}}Punch him.{{/GM}} Don't know, don't care.
Shut up and listen. I'm going to pretend to punch you, and you're gonna hit the floor. From where Larissa's standing, it'll look like the real thing.
{{GM}}He blinks.{{/GM}}

Wait, what? You want me to pretend to get hit?
It's that or I really hit you. Your choice.
That's about the size of it.
Y'know, this was a bad idea. Forget about it.
I, uh... sure. I'll take a dive. Just try not to really hit me, please?

{{GM}}His fists open and close. He looks nervous.{{/GM}}

Okay. I'm ready when you are.
{{GM}}Break his jaw.{{/GM}} Fooled you!
{{GM}}Crack him in the face.{{/GM}} Sorry. Had to make it look good.
{{GM}}Stage-punch him.{{/GM}}
Your fist gently brushes his jaw. With an exaggerated motion, he throws his head back, and a few second later he falls over backwards.

You hear the sound of chuckling around you - it would appear that the deckers nearby weren't entirely convinced by the elf's performance.
Yeah, all right... sure.
You're talking about the dwarf girl. And yeah... I tripped her up.

It was funny as hell, she went down like a sack of potatoes. All the crystal shattered when it hit the floor.

But I'm telling you, she *deserved* it.
Yeah. What gave me away?

{{GM}}He makes a point of showing off his jacket. The tribal insignias look strangely out of place here on the DeckCon floor.{{/GM}}

You from Seattle?
Yeah, thereabouts.
The Redmond Barrens, actually.
Originally. I've lived all over, though.
No drek? Well, it's good to meet you, chummer.

{{GM}}The Seattle shadowslang sounds incredibly awkward when delivered in Cantonese, but he doesn't seem to notice.{{/GM}}
Council Island is NAN territory, and you don't look Amerindian. What's your deal?
Good to meet you, too.
I'm not Amerindian. I do live on Council Island, though.

My dad is a diplomat from Tír na nÓg. We live on the island... actually, they treat us like kings there.
But... you look Chinese. Tír na nÓg is in Ireland, isn't it?
That *does* sound pretty good. Gotta admit, I'm jealous.
Yeah! The Salish Shidhe Council enjoys good relations with my country and Tir Tairngire. Magical pride, and all that... we "share a connection with the land," all of that bullshit.

So me and my family can get away with pretty much anything.
{{GM}}He gives you a conspiratorial wink.{{/GM}}

It's a pretty great life.
{{GM}}He nods slowly.{{/GM}}

This might come as a shock to you, but there *are* Asian people in Ireland.

I mean, we do exist there.
As it happens, my father is related by marriage to a minor member of the Connaught family. That's one of the Tuatha Dé Danaan, if you didn't know.

You *have* heard of the Tuatha Dé Danaan, haven't you?
Uh... yeah, sure. Of course I have.
Afraid not, no. Care to fill me in?
Good. Then you know how important they are, and how important my dad is through them.

That makes *me* important, too. Back on Council island, we can get away with pretty much anything.
They're the ruling families of Tír na nÓg, chummer. Like, they *run* the government there. Which is how my dad got his *government job.*

Do you, like, live under a rock, or something? How do you not know this?
You should be. My dad is related by marriage to a minor member of the Connaught family.

That makes us a big deal back in Tír na nÓg, and an even *bigger* deal on Council Island.
They love us and our country. We "share a connection with the land," all of that bullshit.

So I get to do whatever I want.
He gives you an awkward smile.

It's pretty clear that this guy doesn't get out much.
No drek? Wow. That place is fragging *intense,* chummer.

{{GM}}The Seattle shadowslang sounds incredibly awkward when delivered in Cantonese, but he doesn't seem to notice.{{/GM}}
Yeah, I'm here to check out the '57 Fuchi cyberdecks.

My '55 Cyber-7 is barely cutting it these days. I wanna see what they're coming out with next year, and I've heard that they have a demo station.
So, uh, tell me... what's your favorite new ESP for incursion operations?

I like BlastHammer, personally. Heard of it? It's open source, developed by the Southeast Asian decking community. Does a number on Blocker IC.
{{CC}}ESP Control: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Medium){{/CC}} BlastHammer is old hat, and most of the big corps have easy counters for it. Keep relying on that relic and you're gonna wind up in the morgue.
BlastHammer? I've never heard of it.
Really? *Wow.*

{{GM}}He tugs at his collar. Suddenly, he's out of his comfort zone.{{/GM}}

I, uh... I didn't know.
Most Westerners don't. BlastHammer is fine for low-sec operations. Beyond that, you're gonna have to shell out some nuyen for a professionally developed solution.
Well, we've all gotta learn somehow. But seriously, that freeware shit will get you killed.
You should have known. Here's a pro-tip: if you ever want to blend in with the professional decking community, learn your stuff *before* you try to impress someone.
Well. Uh. Thanks for the advice.

{{GM}}He looks away awkwardly. His voice takes on an apologetic tone.{{/GM}}

I'm kinda new in town, in case you hadn't guessed.
Yeah, I kinda had.
It's all right. I am, too.
Oh... yeah. Sorry.

I don't really do the small talk thing much. It isn't my thing.
{{GM}}He nods miserably.{{/GM}}

...I don't really do the small talk thing much. It isn't my thing.
{{GM}}He snickers to himself.{{/GM}}

Really? It's only, oh, THE MOST POPULAR FREEWARE ATTACK ESP IN SOUTHEAST ASIA.

{{GM}}He's practically shouting. His face has lit up with maniacal glee.{{/GM}}
Calm down, man. I'm from Seattle, not Southeast Asia.
Learn something new every day, I guess.
Yeah? Well, you'd better get with it if you wanna survive out here.

{{GM}}He leers at you, his expression all smugness and superiority.{{/GM}}

I mean... I'm just sayin'.
Yeah, you said it! You'd better get with the program if you wanna survive out here.

{{GM}}He leers at you, his expression all smugness and superiority.{{/GM}}

I mean... I'm just sayin'.
Yeah. See ya.
{{GM}}He eyes you nervously.{{/GM}}

Hey, you want something from me? What's up?
He turns to face you at your approach. His features are mostly hidden, but you see that he's sporting a high steel collar and spiky hair. His cheeks are high boned and hollow.
You again. What's up?
Medic 3.0
Heals yourself or a friendly target for 100 IP.
Blaster Lvl 3
An area-effect matrix attack that deals damage to IC and deckers.
Tar IC
Slows the the speed of Personas.
Tar: Movement -2
ASIST
The elevator codes acquired, you head into the enclosed space, watching the ceiling access panel closely as you make your way to Lab Twelve. Light elevator music contrasts sharply with the smell of sweat and cordite. As the lights on the elevator hit twelve, you cover the door and wait.
Tsang Guard
Rapid Response Tsang Captain
Rapid Response Tsang Grenadier
Rapid Response Tsang Mage
Rapid Response Tsang Conjurer
Rapid Response Tsang Sniper
Rapid Response Tsang Enforcer
Rapid Response Tsang Guard
Remove Raymond from the Machine in Time
Find Raymond in Lab Twelve
Restore the Memory Engrams
Use a Decker to Free Raymond
Escape With Raymond
First Aid Station
Locker Room
Maintenance Manager
Loading Dock
VP of Operations
Entering Special Projects will alert the Rapid Response Squad, there will be no turning back.
DANGER: In use, do not enter.
Containment Lab
VP of Thaumaturgical Research
Thaumaturgical Lab
Wildfire
>>>SECURITY NODE THROUGH HERE.
>>>SECURITY NODE IN CONNETED NODE.
>>>SECURITY NODE THIS WAY. WE ARE EVEN, HOPE YOU FIND WHAT YOU ARE LOOKING FOR.
A nervous-looking Charles shuffles toward the elevator and opens its door.
He awkwardly steps inside and begins to manipulate the control panel.
{{GM}}The suspicious display doesn't go unnoticed, and a security guard stirs.{{/GM}}

Hey! What are you doing in there? You aren't authorized to use the elevators, sir.
Sir!

{{GM}}With only a panicked yelp as response from Charles, the guard readies his weapon.{{/GM}}
High Grade Street Armor
Pure Body protection with a touch of class.
PROSPERITY TOWER
$(story.a3_TsangTower_LoadingText)
Tsang Worker
Receptionist
Tsang Enforcer
Tsang Human Maintenance Worker
Tsang Orc Maintenance Worker
Tsang Grenadier
Tsang Conjurer
Tsang Mage
Tsang Sniper
White Sparky IC
Tsang VP Bodyguard
Tsang VP
Tsang Manager
Tsang Researcher
Tsang Research Mage
Melee Servitor
Toxic Barrel
Talker
Discover Raymond's Location by Hacking a Security Station
Get a Second Elevator Code
Hack Security Network Nodes to Weaken Tsang Security, Nodes Hacked: $(story.a3_TsangTower_s1-numSecurityNodesHacked)
Find Evidence on Josephine Tsang
Explore the Core Systems
Hack the Alarm Console
Grab the Tsang Maintenance Uniforms
Use the Maintenance Terminal to Start the Flow Mixers
Try to Repair the Turbine
Meet with "Mr. Johnson"
Give the Foreign Accounts Data to the VP
Give the Data to the Tsang Suit
See What is in Containment
Decker Required
Gibbering Nightmare
A crushing claw attack that does -12 HP DMG.
You hack the node, and the now-vulnerable network is quickly infected by spoof programs. Within a matter of seconds, the programs spread across the system, sending false security alarms throughout Tsang.

The security network is slowly compromised. A few guards catch wind of the alarms, and begin to investigate the cause, but the false alarms direct them to dud locations.
You hack the node, and the vulnerable network is quickly infected by spoof programs. Within a matter of seconds, the programs spread across the system, sending false security alarms throughout Tsang.

The security network is becoming less and less stable. More guards pick up the summons to locate each alarm's origin, but they continue to only find dead ends.
You hack the node, and the vulnerable network is quickly infected by spoof programs. Within a matter of seconds, the programs spread across the system, sending false security alarms throughout Tsang.

With the security network completely compromised, guards flood the communication channel with response calls, unable to locate where the alarms are coming from. Your whereabouts remain unnoticed amidst the pandemonium.
A metallic scent hits you as you enter the loading dock - an swirl of gas, oil, and steel packing crates.

The fluorescent lighting above casts a gross hue throughout the dingy garage. One of the lights in the corner is out. Smashed in, by the looks of it.
It seems the behind-the-scenes world of Tsang is just as dirty as its business practices.

Not far in front of you stand a couple corporate workers, unaware of, or at least indifferent to, your presence.
Red Samurai Sniper
Medic 2.0
Heals yourself or a friendly target for 75 IP.
Blaster Lvl 2
What do you think was going on upstairs, anyway? All I heard was that there were intruders, and we're supposed to stop them from leaving.
Some kind of shadowrunner team got into the building, I guess. Killed a bunch of the guards upstairs. Central doesn't know where they are now, so we're just supposed to keep our eyes open.
What a bunch of scum. I hope they show up down here... I'd love to show them why nobody messes with Knight-Errant
Hey, what happened to the lights?! Those jokers in central promised us we'd have power down here.
Beats me. This place is falling apart. I wouldn't be surprised if the wiring was home to a pack of devil rats.

The sooner this day's over, the better.
Barrage
A two-hit combo with the cyber-spurs. Pierces up to 4 Armor.
Containment Door Code
>1915
Before you looms a formidable cast-iron door. It's locked - your means of escape just behind it.

You notice a keypad mounted on the wall, but you have no key code. A quick scan reveals a potential weak spot in the door's hinges. You have a feeling you can get through, but it's going to take a while.
{{CC}}Strength: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Medium){{/CC}} {{GM}}Pry the damn thing open.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Spellcasting or Conjuring{{/CC}} {{GM}}Use Astral Perception to divine the key code number sequence.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Have Duncan smack it around.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Have Gobbet assense the keypad.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Have Gaichu assense the keypad.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Have Racter investigate the door.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Have Is0bel hack the keypad.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Have Rooster attempt to open it.{{/GM}} You've been through this before. Open it!
{{GM}}He leans in and taps the door's hinges. Tests them with a whack.{{/GM}}

Yeah, I can open it. But this ain't the movies, and it's gonna take me more than a kick to bash it in. I'll need you to cover me.
Sheesh, put me on the spot, why don't'cha? Okay, okay... I see a two, four, five, and something that feels vaguely like a nine, but I don't know their order. This might take a sec. Cover me, alright?

{{GM}}Gobbet hunches over the keypad and hastily mashes its buttons, testing different combinations.{{/GM}}
I feel the code, but but not its sequence. Two, four, five, and nine. I will have to experiment with their combinations.

{{GM}}His face remains unchanged as he plugs the numbers in one by one. If he's at all stressed, it doesn't show.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}He calmly strokes his chin while he studies the door.{{/GM}}

Old tech. I can bypass the locking mechanism manually. But this isn't a quick fix, so keep the goon squad off me.

{{GM}}Racter leans over the keypad and removes its cover, fingers reworking the dense wiring inside.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Is0bel cautiously steps forward, her eyes fixed on the keypad.{{/GM}}

Watch my back.

{{GM}}She jacks into the device and starts cracking its code.{{/GM}}
W-what!?

I'm a money mover, not a mechanic! I haven't the slightest idea how to turn it on.
If you don't try, expect a rain of pain. It's like I said: my employer only needs you alive.
Listen, if you don't open the door. Your crew will be all over us, and as I understand it; they might just kill you in process.
I can try, but it will take considerable time! I don't even know where to begin.
Then I guess you'd better start now, because we've got company.
The door is still locked, some progress was made, but it still needs attention before it opens.
The forlorn spirit stares intently at the door. It reaches a hooked hand and scratches at it, tentatively at first. Then it raises both hands and begins clawing at the door feverishly.
<BAO! SHOW YOURSELF!>
That spirit is out for blood. Buckets of it! What should we do?
Make it dead.
Let's try to communicate with it.
That spirit doesn't look like it's gonna take a break any time soon. What should we do?
{{GM}}The receptionist watches you approach. The flashing light on his desk indicates that he's already pressed his panic button, and security will be here any moment.{{/GM}}

I warned you! Security will handle you!
{{GM}}Gaichu shrugs, and turns his face vaguely in your direction.{{/GM}}

I deeply regret that you cannot take me anywhere, $(l.name). These sorts of scenes become so tiresome after a while.
Yeah, well... You bring a sword-swinging ghoul with you into a corporate facility, you're bound to end up in a brawl sooner or later.

{{GM}}Duncan hefts his assault rifle, sweeping his goggles across the room in anticipation.{{/GM}}

I don't mind sooner.
Look on the bright side, nibbles - now you can say you waltz in the front door of a major megacorporate office with intent to do grievous bodily harm to everyone in your way. Nobody will ever doubt your bravery - or lack of sanity - ever again.
{{GM}}Is0bel fixes you with a stern glare.{{/GM}}

For once in my life, I agree with the ghoul. What the hell did you think was going to happen, walking in here with him in tow?

Come on, let's get this over with.
{{GM}}Racter doesn't even look up from hisbracer as he taps in commands.{{/GM}}

I suppose it can't be helped. Priming Koschei's combat systems now.
Welcome to Ares Asia Holdings. I apologise in advance for any inconvenience - our elevator systems are currently down for repairs. Please excuse the poor timing.

How may I assist you?
Welcome to Ares Asia Holdings, a division of Ares Macrotechnology. How may I assist you today?
{{GM}}At the sight of Gaichu, the receptionist recoils visibly, and his face grows ashen.{{/GM}}

Dear god, is that... is that a GHOUL with you?!
Yes. He is my bodyguard, and I would kindly ask you not to fret about it.
{{GM}}The receptionist's eyes bulge in panic as he shrinks away from Racter.{{/GM}}

Don't fret?! When you waltz in here with a goddamn cannibal in tow...!?
Calm yourself. Not only is he my bodyguard, he's part of my research into the integration of drone hardware with living tissue.
But that's...
{{GM}}Racter draws himself up straight, puffing his chest out as he raises his voice.{{/GM}}

I am DOCTOR RACTER, formerly employed by Grishin-Aviakor. I was the director of drone development for over ten years, and the ghoul and drone you see are part of my latest project.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Security{{/CC}} Sure is. Collecting a bounty.
No. He's just ill, that's all.
Yeah. So what?
You know what? We'll just go.
{{GM}}The receptionist recoils, eyes wild as he reaches for the panic button on his desk.{{/GM}}

But he's not tied up! He's just... walking around! With you!
Of course I am. You misunderstand the situation. He is not collecting the bounty on me because I am ghoul, but because I was once a member of Renraku's military.

The bounty is for my knowledge, not my nature.
{{GM}}The receptionist seems dubious, and spends a few moments typing furiously at his computer. After a moment, his eyes go wide.{{/GM}}

Well... It does say here that there's a standing bounty order on foreign corporate military personnel. I suppose I can let you in, then. You'll have to stay on the first floor until your Knight-Errant Intelligence Division contact comes to escort you in.
{{GM}}Gaichu bares his teeth at the secretary, who cringes at the sight.{{/GM}}

Thank you, good sir. A pleasure getting this sorted out.
{{GM}}The receptionist's panic seems to have dulled his response time, though he begins reaching for the panic button on his desk.{{/GM}}

But... Look at him! He's got all the signs! Look at his skin! Look at his eyes!
{{CC}}Charisma: $(story.global_skillcheck_hard){{/CC}} I know it looks that way, but this is actually a very rare skin condition that also affects his eyes.
He's just a shut-in. I told him he needs to get more sun!
Oh my god, you're right! Help, a ghoul followed me in here!
{{GM}}While visibly dubious, the secretary seems to calm down a bit.{{/GM}}

I suppose... I suppose that makes sense. Who'd bring a ghoul into an Ares facility, anyway?
Hah. What a silly idea. He's here for medical treatment, actually!
Well, he looks like he needs it! Go on into the lobby. You can contact your doctor from the public terminal.

{{GM}}The receptionist spares Gaichu one last, suspicious look before marking you down on the approved visitor's list.{{/GM}}

Have a pleasant day. And... good luck with the treatment.
{{GM}}The receptionist slaps a panic button on his desk.{{/GM}}

Security! Get security out here right now!
{{GM}}In the moments before security descends upon you, Gaichu fixes you with his sightless gaze.{{/GM}}

Tell me... Did you seriously expect that to work?
{{GM}}The receptionist stares at you, his eyes bulging in their sockets. He speaks slowly, in a strained tone.{{/GM}}

What do you mean, 'so what'?!

I can't let an infected cannibal go roaming around the building! He'll eat somebody!
Sir, do you assume that I am some mindless animal? Do you also assume a troll will eat any spare vegetables he comes across, simply because they're there? Please. I am a human being with an infection, not a beast.

Besides, I've already had dinner.
Give me one good reason I shouldn't call security this second! You don't expect me to believe he's SAFE, do you?
Okay, okay! We'll leave.
Try it. I dare you.
You'd better! And don't you come back in until you've ditched that monster, either!
I'm with maintenance. Here for the elevators.
I need to get inside.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Corporate{{/CC}} I've got a meeting on the 36th floor, with Matrix R&D.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Socialite{{/CC}} My friend's invited me to a party in her suite upstairs. You know the type - dress 'street' and mingle with upper management.
I've got a report on drone field testing I need to present.
I'll be on my way.
{{GM}}The receptionist narrows his eyes at you.{{/GM}}

That was... fast. And you don't really look like maintenance.
I'm on call, but I was out.
That's because I was eating dinner.
Oh, my apologies! Go right inside. Just don't leave this floor without an escort.
Er, of course. Unfortunately, I can't allow you access without knowing your business.

May I ask what your business is this evening?
No, you may not.
Research meeting. Drone development.
I'm meeting about... Business synergies. And paradigms.
Then I'm afraid you'll have to wait in the lobby until whoever you're meeting comes to escort you inside.
{{GM}}The receptionist raises an eyebrow very slowly.{{/GM}}

You're just stringing business-related words together, $(l.sir). You have no idea what those mean, do you?
Not a clue.
Of course I do! It's about actionable deliverables! Monetizing granular value-adds!
{{GM}}He sighs heavily.{{/GM}}

Listen, I don't have time to entertain corporate wannabes. Come back later when you have some real business here, okay? Try and get in without a valid reason and I'll be forced to call security.
Ahh, I see. Would you like me to call Division Director Wong to escort you?
I've already done that. We've got a milestone review meeting that started ten minutes ago.
Don't bother. He's in the meeting I'm already supposed to be at.
As you wish. Please, go right ahead. You'll have to stay on this floor until someone comes to escort you upstairs.

{{GM}}The receptions quickly taps at his computer, adding you to the list of registered guests.{{/GM}}

If there's anything Ares Asia Holdings can do to assist you in your business, feel free to message the front desk at any time.
...If you say so, $(l.sir). Not my sort of party, I suppose.

Please go inside, but don't leave this floor. Your friend can escort you up.
But... You're obviously not an Ares citizen. Why would you be presenting anything?
{{GM}}Racter draws himself up straight, puffing his chest out as he raises his voice.{{/GM}}

I am DOCTOR RACTER, formerly employed by Grishin-Aviakor. I was the director of drone development for over ten years, and the drone you see is part of my latest project.
{{GM}}He looks unsure of himself. You can see his eyes flit to a conspicuous panic button mounted to the side of his desk, but he doesn't move.{{/GM}}

You aren't on the guest li--
{{GM}}Racter plows on, his booming voice cutting the secretary's question in half.{{/GM}}

It's a fully autonomous quadrupedal defense and attack drone with integrated fire direction data management, adaptive autosoft parsing, and modular weapons integration. This drone re-defines "bleeding edge." What's more, it has an adaptive experience registry subprogram - to whit, it learns!
{{GM}}The secretary blinks a few times, his eyes glazed over by Racter's barrage of technobabble.{{/GM}}

Oh, I... Uh... Yes, I see. That's... a lot of interesting information.

What should I put down on the arrival sheet, then?
{{GM}}Racter regards the receptions coldly, and curls one corner of his mouth into a sneer.{{/GM}}

Put down that I am here to make a sales pitch. If there is any company in this world with an interest in cutting edge combat drones, it should be Ares Macrotechnology. I have a full report on field and stress tests, part time-to-failure, and combat efficacy.

And I do not like being delayed.
Very well! Have a pleasant evening, doctor. Please stay on this floor until your escort from the drone research division arrives.
Well, you're certainly welcome to wait in the lobby. If you try to enter the building without checking in, I'll be forced to call security.
Excuse me, $(l.sir), you have to check in before entering the building.
Good evening, $(l.sir). How may I assist you?
I warned you not to enter the building without signing in!

{{GM}}The receptionist slams his hand onto the panic button at his desk.{{/GM}}

Security, we have intruders in the lobby!
The rest of your team begrudgingly rifles through the locker, picking out uniforms closest to their size. One by one they button up, and soon a hodgepodge of frumpy maintenance workers stand before you.
A little tight in the arms, but great in the hips! I could really tear up a dance floor in this.

{{GM}}She swivels her hips and spins on her heel. When she comes back around, she grabs her chin and strikes a pose.{{/GM}}

This is the pose I'll use to win hearts.
{{GM}}She straightens up and pats the uniform.{{/GM}}

Hope Tsang doesn't mind if I, uh... keep this.
Your teammate rifles through the locker for a fitted uniform. After slipping it on, it's obvious the Tsang's maintenance employees are all on the broader side. Especially around the gut.
You grab a uniform and slip it on. The fit is... loose. It seems Tsang's maintenance employees are all on the broader side. Especially around the gut.
Lady
Rifle: This weapon has been customized over the years by its owner.
Paydata: Renraku Product Launch Schedule
Details upcoming release dates, times, and availability of new technology. Could be worth money to someone on Shadowland.
Stride
Passive: The adept's Movement is increased by 2. Active: Movement increased by a further 2 for 3 RNDS.
Stride: Movement +4
Well? I'm waiting.
On it.
{{GM}}Give him the data and nuyen.{{/GM}} Let's not draw this out. It's yours.
{{GM}}Attack him.{{/GM}} Think I'll be keeping this. And now that you've outlived your usefulness...
Pleasure doing business with you.
{{GM}}A calm, stern-faced man stands before you. He casually checks his watch as he addresses you, his voice tinged with boredom.{{/GM}}

I was hoping you would have handled things with... how should put this? More *discretion.*
As a runner, I thought you'd know better. And it's too late to change tacks now, what with all the dead guards around here.
Wait, have we met?
And who the hell are you?
You've been waiting for me.
{{GM}}He smiles. The expression on his face is unsettling.{{/GM}}

Not until now. But I consider myself a great judge of character. And, now that you're here, you have a choice to make: fight me, or walk away.
An overconfident corporate hound in a freshly starched suit... I like my odds. {{GM}}Attack the suit.{{/GM}}
No need to spill more blood than required. Besides, bullets are expensive.
Then you've decided. A pity. I was hoping that we could do business together.

Well, let's not drag this out... get $(l.him)!
I knew you were a reasonable $(l.man).

{{GM}}He motions toward the door.{{/GM}}

Good luck to you.
{{GM}}He smiles. The expression on his face is unsettling.{{/GM}}

Just think of me as a great judge of character. And, now that you're here, you have a choice to make: fight me, or walk away.
{{GM}}He smiles. The expression on his face is unsettling.{{/GM}}

I have. You see, I'm a great judge of character. And, now that you're here, you have a choice to make: fight me, or walk away.
{{GM}}A calm, stern-faced man stands before you. He casually checks his watch as he addresses you, his voice tinged with boredom.{{/GM}}

I've been expecting you.

Like the maintenance uniforms, by the way. An enemy in our skin. Classic infiltration tactic.
And who are *you*?
This doesn't bode well...
Are you messing with me?
Think of me as... a business partner.
I'd never do business with a corporate dog.
Are you done yet? I have places to be. People to kill.
Wouldn't dream of it. I'm out of here.
{{GM}}He snaps his fingers, and the guards behind him train their weapons on your position.{{/GM}}

Before you decide anything, at least hear me out. You're in a position to come out of this with an edge against Tsang. That alone should be enough to pique your interest.
What's your game?
All right. Speak.
Get to the point.
Now, now. Let's not jump to conclusions about each other's characters. In fact, I want to help you out.
Not at all. I'm well connected here at Tsang. I have eyes everywhere... and when I was informed of your presence in the building, I knew it was the opportunity I'd been waiting for.
{{GM}}A calm, stern-faced man stands before you. He casually checks his watch as he addresses you, his voice tinged with boredom.{{/GM}}

Welcome to Prosperity Tower, shadowrunner.
Are you messing with me?
It just so happens that you've stumbled into the right place at the right time.

{{GM}}He keeps his gestures subtle, but he can't hide the cockiness in his voice.{{/GM}}

I imagine that doesn't happen often in your line of work.
Stop wasting my time. What do you want?
I know you're on the the job, but this won't take long.

Josephine is running this corporation into the ground. Much like the way you're undermining her efforts here today, I too am preparing to make a move against her. And therein lies the beauty of our situation - we're in a position to help each other out.
What do you need done?
How can I trust you?
I don't work with suits.
It's simple. I give you access to Tsang's core system, and, while inside, you retrieve some data for me.
Won't that look pretty bad on your access history?
And how do you plan on rewarding me for these services?
I'll pass.
{{GM}}The corners of his eyes crease as a flat smile stretches across his jaw.{{/GM}}

A little trideo editing, and some creative violence on my guards' part, and we'll claim you assaulted us and entered the Matrix by force. Your invasion of our direct system will only bolster our strikes against Josephine.
Thanks, but no thanks, "Mr. Johnson."
I'd rather tear up the company's foundation by killing its employees. And that means you!
This is a one-time offer.
Infiltrating Tsang's Matrix *could* prove helpful...
Not interested.
You're no better than Josephine. I'll gut you where you stand!
{{GM}}He clasps his hands together.{{/GM}}

Excellent.

The information I need is in the datastore labeled "Foreign Accounts." Return those files to me, and you're welcome to whatever else you find in the Matrix.
Don't get clumsy. Avoid setting off the system alert, or my associates and I will have to kill you to cover up our part in this scheme. I can't afford to arouse any suspicion. And should you try to leave this office and I don't have my files, our deal is off, and I'll see to it that you don't leave this building alive.
Play your cards right, runner, and this may be the beginning of a new business relationship.
I should think the privilege of wading through Tsang's core system would be reward enough.
A wise question. I'm sure there's little I can say to win your full trust, but look at me: here *I* am, putting my faith in a shadowrunner. I have just as much to lose as you do. But, if you help me, we'll both gain a great deal. I'm not asking for much, really.
I've nothing more to say to you.
All right.
{{GM}}Attack him.{{/GM}} I'll bet I can make you beg for your life.
Bound Fire Spirit
{{GM}}The street vendor gestures toward a jumbled pile of tarnished chains, costume jewelry, and trinkets on a stained flannel blanket.{{/GM}}

Look at these beauties! Very valuable! Very pretty!
Show me what you're selling.
What's been going on around here? I heard Strangler Bao's making a move.
How can you stand this place?
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}} See you around.
{{GM}}The vendor's eyes narrow, and he glances over your shoulder before he speaks.{{/GM}}

The Strangler's men are getting reckless. Too dangerous to do business in the old market now. I had to move shop.
The old market is deeper inside the Walled City, right?

So isn't being out here on the edge kind of a step up?
Depends on how good a spot you had. Mine was good - people living deeper inside want pretty things, too, and no one else was selling 'em there.

{{GM}}He looks from left to right, then shrugs.{{/GM}}

Maybe this will be a good spot. Have to wait and see.
{{GM}}He gives you the stink eye.{{/GM}}

You mean my home?

{{GM}}The vendor softens. Becomes wistful.{{/GM}}

In my experience, you can get used to anything regardless of how... horrible it is. It just becomes normal after a while.
But this place is getting worse, no question about it. Last twenty, thirty years it's been nothing but downhill. Nothing goes right here.

Maybe you can change that, though. By buying something, eh?
No.

{{GM}}He shakes his head.{{/GM}}

That's not something that someone would say around here.
Need more trinkets? I have many to sell!
Blaster Lvl 1
Raccoon Totem
The power of the Raccoon aids allies within 3 tiles with +2 Movement. Lasts 2 RNDS.
Raccoon: Movement +2
SuperheroRigger
Stone Crush
The spirit summons a boulder and crushes it over an area, doing 20 DMG at the epicenter.
The service entrance to the Harbour Spires hotel looks like any other. Scuffed walls coated in chipped paint. A floor of well-worn hardwood. A time card reader, hanging from the wall at a slight tilt.

Nothing about the dingy, utilitarian confines of the room that you're in hints at the elegance and fine decor of the hotel beyond.
Reminds me of that dump we squatted in back in Bear Creek. The motel with the raccoon problem.

Little bastards kept me up half the night, every night. I swear that one of 'em was eyeballing me.
Your earpiece crackles to life.

Is0bel, calling from the women's lavatory.
$(l.name).

{{GM}}A burst of static fills your ear, obliterating Is0bel's voice. A second later, she cuts back in.{{/GM}}

--you in position?
Yeah, I'm standing just inside the service entrance.
I'm here, yeah. You're kind of breaking up, though.
If by "in position," you mean twiddling my thumbs by the kitchen, then sure.
All right. So fa--

{{GM}}More white noise.{{/GM}}

--good.
This doesn't bode well. Aren't you going to be giving us instructions over the comm?
I could barely hear you there.
Yeah, hang on a se--

{{GM}}Static.{{/GM}}

--na try to boost our signal stren--
The sound cuts out entirely for a good five seconds.

When Is0bel's voice comes back, it's half again as loud as it was before.
There. That's better. What a pain in the ass this is.

There's way too much interference coming from the show floor... we aren't going to be able to rely on our commlinks for this. I'll find us a workaround.
This doesn't inspire confidence.
I hope that you do it fast. This entire plan hinges on our being able to communicate.
Like I said, I'll find a workaround.

For now, let's concentrate on the task at hand.
The catering staff should all be in the kitchen, hauling trays of steamed clams and aperitifs out to the convention hall floor--
Called it.
{{GM}}Is0bel plows ahead, ignoring the interruption.{{/GM}}

I'm gonna need you to find a way to get me one of their uniforms - one that will fit someone my size.
The catering staff should all be in the kitchen, hauling trays of steamed clams and aperitifs out to the convention hall floor.

I'm gonna need you to find a way to get me one of their uniforms - one that will fit someone my size.
{{CC}}Decking: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Easy){{/CC}} Wouldn't it make more sense for *me* to disguise myself and deck the admin computer?
Find a dwarf-size catering uniform. Check, I'm on it.
What if there aren't any that'll fit you?
I don't know about this plan...
No.
...And why not? You actually know the people here. I don't.
Is that all? You're not going to explain why?
Hey, if that's the way you feel about it. This is your job, after all.
Right. And that's exactly the problem.

We can’t let Rhombus see me - not until we’re ready. That means that I can’t be on the convention floor, and one of us has to be.
Besides which, it’ll be helpful to have another decker on the show floor.

Everyone there is gonna be a decker. You’ll know how to talk to them.
All right, all right, I'm on it.
If you're that certain of this, let's go ahead with it. What's the worst that could happen?
Good. Oh, and $(l.name)? We aren't going loud yet, got it?

Whatever you do, don't start shooting. We can't afford to send Rhombus running before we can get him cornered.
Right. No shooting until we have Rhombus. Got it.
Don't say that. It's bad luck.

Oh, and $(l.name)? We aren't going loud yet - you got that? Whatever you do, don't start shooting. We can't afford to send Rhombus running before we can get him cornered.
I'd think that it was obvious. Rhombus knows me. We can't let him see me on the convention floor... he can't know that I'm here until we're ready.

One of us needs to be on the Con floor for the plan to work, and it can't be me. That means that it has to be you.
There will be. Hotel guidelines require the catering company to have uniforms suitable for all metatypes on hand for major events.

It's a contingency thing, just in case they need to bring in temp workers on short notice.
Thankfully, I do. It's going to work, but only if you do your part. That's what you're here for.
Yeah, I kno--

{{GM}}More white noise.{{/GM}}

--nnection here is crap. The comms keep cutting ou--
Untwiddle them, then. You've go--

{{GM}}More white noise.{{/GM}}

--job to do.
I have always been fascinated by seeing how things worked. Even as a child, I took apart everything that I could in the name of study.

And here we are, in the innards of a fancy hotel. Examining the viscera of the place, if you will.
It smells like clams in here.

{{GM}}She wrinkles her nose, sniffing.{{/GM}}

Clams, and something else... tequila, maybe? Some kind of sour liquor. It's hard to tell.
This place reeks of crushed hopes and shoddy workmanship.

{{GM}}He grabs the time card reader with one hand. Straightens it. It holds for a moment, then begins to slide.{{/GM}}

Can you imagine having to tolerate such conditions? It's a miracle that workplace violence is so rare.
Robes showing that the mystic arts mean real power. Grants +1 Willpower and +10 HP.
The man gives you only the slightest nod of his head as your approach. He's draped in all manner of cutting-edge wireless technology: signal amplifiers, EM noise cancellers, and a dozen tiny screens dot his jacket.

His expression is one of indifference, but there is a casual cruelty that hangs around him like a foul odor.
I'm glad you decided to honor our arrangement. That speaks well of you.

{{GM}}Despite the man's cordial words, his eyes glint with menace.{{/GM}}

When you're ready, we should go handle Tigath Wright. I've brought my own backup as well, just to ensure it goes smoothly.
Wait a minute, I don't even know who you are.
Not until I know more about what's going on.
And it doesn't matter if you do. All that matters is that we finish this affair.

{{GM}}The man considers you for a moment, and eventually relents.{{/GM}}

My name is Hwang Jae-Min, and I run the Blue Heaven Seoulpa Ring.
{{GM}}Wu squares his shoulders and thrusts his lower jaw forward, jabbing a finger in Hwang's direction.{{/GM}}

Listen, you little prick. We're here out of courtesy. You start telling us who and what to do, we're gonna have problems. Big ones.
{{GM}}Gaichu bares his teeth, clicking them together as breath rasps over them.{{/GM}}

Do not deign to tell me what I should and should not concern myself with, whelp. We are embroiled in this affair of our own accord.

That can change at a moment's notice.
{{GM}}Is0bel glares at Hwang, placing a hand on the butt of her grenade launcher.{{/GM}}

Don't you tell us what does and doesn't matter. We're only here because we want to be.
{{GM}}One of Gobbet's rats scurries out from under her ropes of hair to peer at Hwang. She her head and addresses the rat in cooing tones, stroking it's head.{{/GM}}

Yes, he's such a big strong man, isn't he? Pushing around us mean ol' shadowrunners! He doesn't know how dangerous we can be, does he? Nooooo, he doesn't!
{{GM}}Racter gives Hwang a long, cool stare. Slowly, he reaches over to his bracer and taps out a small set of commands.

Koschei rises up, its weapons swivelling toward Hwang.{{/GM}}

Is that so?
I've brought some of the Blue Heaven Ring with me. All you have to do is tell Tigath you're ready to meet him.

We can ambush him together, with minimal risk to ourselves.
What's your involvement in all of this?
Tell me about the Omega Sequence project.
How do I know I can trust you?
I'm ready. Let's go see what Tigath is up to.
I don't think I like your plan. I'm not turning on Wright.
It's just business. That's all it is.

Eastern Tiger retains a number of Seoulpa Rings in East Asia and the UCAS, in lieu of private security forces. They don't have the money for their own deniable assets, so they use us.
They offered to pay the Blue Heaven Ring a handsome fee to ensure that Tigath didn't get the data and samples.

{{GM}}Hwang shrugs and waves a hand dismissively.{{/GM}}

I never turn away a fat paycheck.
If Tigath Wright is who you say he is, won't that be dangerous for your ring?
What if Tigath's telling the truth?
Let me worry about my crew, and you just worry about yours.

Nobody gets ahead in this business by playing it safe.
I know he's not. But even if he was, would it matter? You're willing to kill to complete a job, and so am I.

That's how this business works. Kill or be killed. Succeed or die.
{{GM}}Hwang snorts, cocking his head at you in disbelief.{{/GM}}

Come on, do I look like a scientist to you?
Actually, with all that tech gear, you do.
So you're doing a job you're clueless about?
Maybe not, but you're a guy who does his research.
{{GM}}Looking himself over, Hwang actually chuckles a little.{{/GM}}

Fair point, I suppose.
There's not a whole lot of information on the Omega Sequence project or any of its predecessors. There should be, because back in the mid 40's, that kind of research was big news with corporate and academic scientists alike. Three major studies were underway.

The thing is, there's no record of most of those studies any more. They've all disappeared.
How did they disappear?
Funding lapsed and the test data vanished, in some cases. Some scientists disappeared, other were disgraced. Two committed suicide - or were killed in a way that looked like suicide.

At UC Berkeley, for instance, Dr. Derek McLean headed up the Omega Sequence style project. But there was an organized smear campaign in '48 which left him unemployed and his theories on other subjects disgraced.
The thing is, McLean's 'disgraced' theories have been largely proven right over the last eight years, but it's too late. He's been blacklisted.

That's the way it went with all of these scientists. Most are out of a job, some are dead. Others are just missing.
What's Tir Tairngire have to do with this?
Why would the Council of Princes want to stifle that research?
The research related to the issue of possible elven immortality - or at least extreme longevity. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine.

All I know is that the money funding anti-immortality research comes out of Portland.
At the end of the day, though, it doesn't matter to me if they stifled the research, or why. I'm getting paid to make sure they don't take Eastern Tiger's property, and that's what matters.
Okay, fair.

Maybe I know a little more than I let on.
{{GM}}Hwang laughs, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk.{{/GM}}

You don't. The deal is simple: do as I say, or my men and I put a bullet in your head.
{{GM}}Hwang spreads his palms in a placating gesture.{{/GM}}

We both have to live and work in Hong Kong. If I break my word to someone as respected as you, my life won't be worth the subway fare it'll take me to get home. You can trust me because if I betrayed you and lived, it would only be the start of my troubles.
{{GM}}Hwang nods in satisfaction.{{/GM}}

Good. You go to the spot you arranged to meet. I'll go collect my crew and have them get ready. When you're ready, ping me.

Wright won't know what hit him.
Sounds good to me.
{{GM}}Hwang's shoulder tense, and he bites his lower lip in frustration and anger.{{/GM}}

So what, you brought me out here to embarrass me? You just wanted to string me along?!

You're an idiot if you think I'll let you walk away from this!
Come on and try it, asshole.
I had no intentions of letting you live.
{{GM}}Hwang bristles, his nostrils flaring. His hand darts under his jacket, and he draws a submachine gun partway into view.{{/GM}}

Come on, test me. I dare you. You think I'm afraid of you?!

You're trash, that's all you are.
Everybody, calm the hell down. I won't tell you again.
Whoa, whoa. We're all on the same side here.
{{GM}}Attack{{/GM}} I've had enough of your attitude.
{{GM}}Hwang continues to fume, but slowly slides his submachine gun back under his jacket.{{/GM}}

Keep your team in line. I'm not in the habit of letting disrespectful people live.
{{GM}}Hwang inclines his head politely as you approach. He's draped in all manner of cutting-edge technological bits and bobs: signal amplifiers, trid projection systems, and a dozen tiny screens dot his jacket.{{/GM}}

Thanks for coming. I wasn't sure if you'd show up, but I'd hoped you would.
I'm curious to hear what you have to say.
I don't like the idea of an employer double-crossing me.
{{GM}}Hwang nods in satisfaction.{{/GM}}

Well, good. I don't know you, but I thought you might be interested, based on the kind of person you seem to be.
{{GM}}Gobbet regards Hwang with indifference. She folds her arms over her chest and rocks back on her heels.{{/GM}}

So. If you're some kind of magical hacker and you know Tigath's double-crossed us, where's the proof? Give us something we can look at.
You claim to have proof of Tigath's betrayal. I, for one, would like to see it.

{{GM}}Racter folds his arms over his chest and fixes Hwang with a skeptical look.{{/GM}}

Without proof, we have no reason to trust you.
{{GM}}Gaichu draws himself up straight, flexing his claws restlessly.{{/GM}}

You say you have proof of Wright's true purpose. Without producing that evidence, however, you are as suspect as he.
{{GM}}Is0bel taps away at her commlink, and after a moment she powers up her cyberdeck in local mode.{{/GM}}

You have proof that Wright isn't who he says he is. Give it to me so I can analyze it.
Without physical proof to back up your claims about Tigath, we're not going to move against him. You're going to have to do better than just stories.
You said Tigath wasn't who he claimed. Show me the evidence.
So where's this mysterious proof, anyway?
{{GM}}Hwang nods respectfully, and fishes out a datachip from one of his myriad pockets. He tosses it to you.{{/GM}}

I wouldn't waste your time with a face to face meeting unless I had data to show you.

Go on, slot the chip. You'll see what I mean.
You slot the chip and pull up the contents.

You scroll through a series of images. They depict a nighttime gun battle in an Eastern Tiger facility's parking lot, with four shadowrunners being systematically picked apart by the Lone Star forces protecting the grounds.
A second set of photos depicts an area you are instantly familiar with: the streets of Touristville, Redmond. These surveillance photos show the runner team from the Eastern Tiger gunfight in a meeting with a tall and haughty looking elf who is wearing armor and carrying a large handgun.

That elf, however grainy in the photograph, is definitely Tigath Wright.
Your employer was responsible for a botched Shadowrun against the Omega Complex project facility in Tacoma. The team responsible was all killed, but Eastern Tiger managed to track their movements.

The second set of photos came from a private citizen's drone footage - and, as you can see, Wright is hiring them.
That does seem pretty cut and dry.
That's suspicious, but it doesn't prove anything.
Cut and dry, nothing! That's our guy, and he's loaded for bear.

{{GM}}Gobbet shakes her head, scowling deeply.{{/GM}}

Oh, Mr. Johnson. You should have played it straight with us.
{{GM}}Glancing between the photographs and her deck, Is0bel nods.{{/GM}}

These haven't been tampered with as far as I can tell. They're legitimate.
{{GM}}Racter nods sagely, stroking his chin with one hand.{{/GM}}

It seems that Mr. Hwang is correct. Wright has been keeping secrets from us... And I'm not pleased about it.
That low down, dirty little scab...

{{GM}}Angrily, Wu growls and chambers a round in his assault rifle.{{/GM}}

Come on. Let's go teach him not to fuck with us.
{{GM}}Gaichu stares off into space, expression impassive.{{/GM}}

I should remind you that I cannot actually see these photographs.
You wouldn't be the first he's lied to.

{{GM}}Hwang folds his arms over his chest.{{/GM}}

The only question that remains is what you intend to do about it.
Oh, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). Sometimes your naivete is so charming I could squeal.

Look at him, he's wearing a flak vest and packing a roomsweeper. This isn't an office manager or a researcher.
{{GM}}Is0bel looks at you and rolls her eyes.{{/GM}}

Oh yeah, I'm sure this guy had a totally legitimate reason to be heavily armed and armored, and to meet with a bunch of shadowrunners who later ended up dead.

Especially since he was so worried about his wife and kids in Seoul.
I disagree, $(l.name). This man has claimed to be unfamiliar with violence, and interested only in blowing the whistle on Eastern Tiger.

Why wouldn't he tell us about a botched run?
{{GM}}Wu whips his head back, fixing you with an incredulous look.{{/GM}}

Come on, $(l.name)! You recognize that place, right? That's right outside the Jackal's Lantern. Any corp suit would be eaten for lunch if he was out there! But he looks like he fits right in.
And you so you shouldn't.

{{GM}}Hwang nods in satisfaction.{{/GM}}

Betrayal may be the rule in the UCAS and Europe, but in Hong Kong, that'll get you killed. Which is exactly what Tigath has coming.
{{GM}}Hwang bows low as you approach, straightening only when you are right in front of him. He's draped in all manner of cutting-edge technological bits and bobs: signal amplifiers, trid projection systems, and a dozen tiny screens dot his jacket.{{/GM}}

Thank you so much for seeing me tonight. I realize what an inconvenience it must be for you.
You treated me with respect. That got my attention.
You'd better make it worth my while.
Eh, I was headed here anyway.
I'm glad it did. Your name's been spoken very highly of in Hong Kong - you've earned that through your own blood and sweat. People should remember how you got where you are.

I don't tolerate rudeness. Neither should you.
Of course! I want both of us to come out of this alive, paid, and without any undue complications.
{{GM}}Hwang nods his head, chuckling.{{/GM}}

Well, I can't argue with convenience.
It's a fairly recent code maglock system.
00006
Cast Lightning Bolt
Lightning Bolt Attack
Blur I
Reduces an ally's chance to be hit by 25%, and increases their Movement by 1. Lasts one round.
Blur: To be hit -25%, Movement +1
El Duce's Outfit
SAMURAI SHADES
Placeholder Combat Armor 6
Narcoject Rifle
Rifle: Delivers chemical-coated darts, doing little up-front damage but 10 HP and 1 AP DMG per RND for 3 RNDs.
Narcoject Toxin: HP -10 per RND
Packed with phosphorus, this grenade causes an additional -6 HP for 2 RNDS. Strips 3 Armor from affected targets.
Fire: HP -6
Knight Errant Sniper
Shoot Grenade
Fires an explosive shell that can damage adjacent targets. May miss and skew to a nearby tile.
Pinning Hit
Pins the target, rendering them unable to move for 2 turns. HP DMG reduced by 2. Pierces up to 4 Armor.
Pinned: Cannot Move
Totem DeBuff
Basic Knight Errant Drone
A basic combat drone carried by KE riggers.
Flesh Rip
A claw attack that does -10 HP of DMG and then -1 AP for 3 RNDS.
Pestilence: AP -1
{{GM}}This street vendor is hawking both traditional chinese medical supplies and modern trauma kits alike.{{/GM}}

Feeling down? Ginko biloba in bulk! Got a cut? DocWagon first aid kid, plenty of disinfectants!
What can I get for you, my friend?
I'd like some information, actually.
Is there anything else you need?
Oh yeah? What do you wanna know? I see a lot from my stall.
You seen anyone strange lurking around here?
Yeah, I saw this gangster type move through here - real nasty looker, you know? He had his crew trailing along behind 'em. They were all speaking Korean, too, which is why I thought it was strange. I don't speak much Korean, but I know around here, the triads rule the roost.
Form of Qian Ya
A human figure stands in Law's Technology Palace, face obscured by a smooth mirrored mask. Probably male, but it's not certain.

The figure wears a Whampoan badge on its cheap raincoat.
I am the temporary merchant representative until a permanent replacement is assigned.

{{GM}}Its voice is completely monotone.{{/GM}}

How may I assist you?
Show me your merchandise.
Where is Maximum Law?
Show me your face.
You sound like a zombie.
I do not know of a Maximum Law. My job is to not know anything.

How may I assist you?
I am an indentured servant to Whampoa.

I incurred debts and am discharging them. I incurred my debts installing cyberware. My debts are being paid by my cyberware. My personality is suppressed by a knowsoft, so that I may serve Whampoa according to a precise algorithm.
How may I assist you?
My face is not important. I do not have a face, until my debts are discharged.

How may I assist you?
My expert system does not recognize the word "zombie."

How may I assist you?
The blank-faced Whampoan puppet stands in the Technology Palace - totally oblivious to the storm and the chaos.
{{GM}}The puppet's eyes flicker. Emotion seems to break through for a moment.{{/GM}}

I perceive that changes... have... occurred. The images within my mind have... quieted. They are no longer... intrusive.

I...

{{GM}}The puppet seems to make a heroic effort - and to lose. Its face reverts back into deathly serenity.{{/GM}}
I am the temporary merchant representative until a permanent replacement is assigned.

{{GM}}The puppet's voice is soulless... its tones and inflection precise, but devoid of any feeling.{{/GM}}

How may I assist you?
You step out of the MTR station and into the balmy night air.

An impenetrable wall of clouds, heavy with imminent rain, has blown in from the south. It covers the stars, causes them to wink out one by one.
You can smell something on the air. Something electric.

The wind whips up around you, and the clouds begin moving in a thick grayscale swirl. The spiral builds and grows, shimmering with faint amber light.
As you watch the clouds roil in the sky, the sounds of the city retreat. A bubble of soft white noise replaces them, wrapping around your head and reflecting your own heartbeat back on you.

You look down from the clouds to see the lights of the docks dancing in a warm, saturated bloom.
{{GM}}Enjoy the stillness.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Head back to the $(story.Global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName).{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Take a trid shot with your PDA.{{/GM}}
You lean back and take in your surroundings - the boats, the golden glow of the light on the water. The lapping of gentle waves against the docks.

And then the first twinge tickles your chest. Lets you know that something's coming.
A moment later, you feel an incredible tightness in your chest. It feels like your heart is being crushed under the foot of a giant.

Your vision goes gray, and your sense of balance disappears. Gradually, blood rushes in to refill the organ, inflating it like a balloon.
{{CC}}Bioware: Synthacardium{{/CC}} {{GM}}Fight through it.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Willpower: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Medium){{/CC}} {{GM}}Force your body to calm itself.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Biotech: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Easy){{/CC}} {{GM}}Attempt to make a self-diagnosis.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Try to catch your breath.{{/GM}}
You calm yourself. Breathe. The synthetic fibers of your artificially enhanced heart expand and contract, and the world swims back into focus.

Something is still very definitely wrong, but you're able to face it with a clear head and a steady heartbeat.
You place one foot in front of the other, determined to face whatever this is and overcome it.

A tingling sensation washes over you, suffusing you to the core.
You stumble forward, and every cell in your body seems to vibrate. The energy thrums inside of you, pulsating, building to an unbearable crescendo.

And then you're on the other side of it.
You find yourself standing in a familiar courtyard.

The Walled City. You're back in the Walled City, just like in your dreams. You can taste the stench of the place, the mildew and plaster and wet-dog stink of the slum.
What the...?
A dream. This has to be a dream.
No. This isn't real.
The crumbling facades of tenement buildings lean into one another above you, closing in on either side and creating a narrow walkway.

Just like in your dreams, there's nowhere else to go. Nowhere but forward, down the path ahead.
{{GM}}Start walking.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Stay where you are.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Call for help.{{/GM}}
You let your legs carry you forward. You feel a creeping sense of certainty in the back of your mind, and it tells you that you've taken this same walk hundreds of times before.

The sense of claustrophobia mounts and builds with every step you take. It feels like you're worming your way forward down a long, dark tunnel.

The humidity of the place sticks to your skin.
As you proceed deeper into the Walled City, a low rumble fills the air. The noise of enormous gears in motion.

You feel hollow. Empty. And with every step you take, you can feel that emptiness growing - an unbearable yearning unlike any hunger you've ever known.
{{GM}}Continue forward.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Stop in your tracks.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Turn back the way you came.{{/GM}}
You continue walking, just as you always have.

Just as you were meant to.
Off in the distance, an alien silhouette beckons to you. It's her - the tall, slender thing from your dreams. The elusive figure that you've always been moving toward, but could never quite reach.

A crowd of locals lines the path ahead, kneeling in supplication. They look emaciated, all skin and bones, clothed head to toe in dirty rags.
{{GM}}Ignore them and keep moving.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Try talking to the nearest local.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Examine the kneeling figures.{{/GM}}
You brush past the kneeling figures and continue forward. As you do so, a mounting sense of correctness builds in your chest.

These people are beneath notice. They *should* be ignored.

Your feet carry you past them, and soon enough they fade from view.
You lean toward the closest local, a wiry man in his late twenties, and tap him on the shoulder.

He locks eyes with you and opens his mouth.
The man has no teeth. They've been pulled, and recently, from the looks of it. His gums are a bloody, pitted mess.

As you stare into the black void of his mouth, his tongue comes lolling out. It looks like it was caught in an industrial accident - a swollen, twisted slab of meat.

The corners of the young man's mouth twitch upward into a ghastly smile.
{{GM}}Look away.{{/GM}}
What happened to you?
None of this is real. I'm hallucinating.
You turn away from the local and the ruin of his mouth.

Seconds later, you've passed him, and he's gone.
Your legs carry you deeper and deeper into the beating heart of the tenement. If you haven't reached the center yet, you must be close.

It's incredibly hot and humid in here - the sweat rolls down your body in sheets. Your thoughts go hazy with the heat, and a dim sense of unease takes root in the pit of your stomach.
{{GM}}Shake it off.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Focus on the uneasy feeling.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Push through it.{{/GM}}
You shake your head, struggling to clear away the fog. The omnipresent sound of grinding gears isn't helping.

Looking up, you can see where the noise is coming from - a hatch. The same door that you saw in your nightmare back when all of this began.

The markings on the door are legible now. A single word in faded yellow paint.
PROSPERITY.
Suddenly, impossibly, the alien figure that you've been moving toward is standing right in front of you. At the same time, your vision finally clears, and ice water runs through your veins.

The Walled City isn't a slum at all. It's an enormous, gaping maw, and the buildings are a forest of crooked teeth.
The thing reaches for you. With inhuman speed and grace, it plunges fingers of polished ivory into your mouth.

Slowly, terribly, it begins to wrench your jaw open. You can feel your teeth splinter and break, and--
Suddenly, you're consumed with a newfound certainty: the Walled City isn't a slum at all. It's an enormous, gaping maw, and the buildings are a forest of crooked teeth.

You wipe the sweat from your brow, and it feels wrong... too viscous, too thick.

It isn't sweat, it's saliva.
{{CC}}Willpower: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Hard){{/CC}} {{GM}}Will yourself back to reality.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Turn and run.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Accept your fate.{{/GM}}
You close your eyes and focus. Concentrate on blocking out the flood of nightmare images, the sound of dripping fluid, the hot humid stench of the Walled City. You tell yourself that it isn't real and *force* yourself to believe it.

When you open your eyes again, you can still see the Walled City, but it's faint. Outlines have become hazy and dreamlike, and the colors of the slum have faded.
The machine sound grows to an eardrum-shredding cacophony. You can see the door that it's coming from, the same hatch from your earlier vision. The text on the door reads "Prosperity."

Suddenly, the alien figure that you'd been moving toward is standing right in front of you, and the Walled City snaps back into focus.
You turn, ready to run back the way you came, to escape the horrible fate that your legs have been carrying you toward.

The machine sound grows to an eardrum-shredding cacophony. You can see the door that it's coming from, the same hatch from your earlier vision. The text on the door reads "Prosperity."

Suddenly, the alien figure that you'd been moving toward is standing right in front of you.
With a deft motion, the being plunges fingers of enamel and ivory into your mouth.

Slowly, terribly, it begins to wrench your jaw open.
You backpedal, urging your legs to carry you out of the horrible fate that you've been moving toward.

Suddenly, impossibly, the alien figure that you've been moving toward is standing right in front of you. The thing reaches for you, and its motions are curiously delicate.
You close your eyes and move forward, willing this to be over. Waiting for it all to end. The sound of grinding gears grows louder, welcoming you.

Suddenly, impossibly, the alien figure that you've been moving toward is standing right in front of you. The thing reaches for you, and its motions are curiously delicate.
You try to concentrate on the unease that you're feeling, but you find it impossible to focus. The omnipresent sound of grinding gears isn't helping.

Looking up, you can see where the noise is coming from - a hatch. The same door that you saw in your nightmare back when all of this began.

The markings on the door are legible now. A single word in faded yellow paint.
You grit your teeth and push forward, struggling to ignore the fog. The omnipresent sound of grinding gears isn't helping.

Looking up, you can see where the noise is coming from - a hatch. The same door that you saw in your nightmare back when all of this began.

The markings on the door are legible now. A single word in faded yellow paint.
The man with the ruined tongue doesn't respond. He kneels in silence, staring, as your feet carry you past him.

Seconds later, he fades from view.
You stare at the nearest of the kneeling figures, a wiry man in his late twenties.

He locks eyes with you. Slowly, his mouth yawns open.
You stop walking. Plant your feet. The world stops moving around you.

You close your eyes and breathe a sigh of relief.
When your eyes open again, you find yourself moving forward.

You don't remember telling your legs to walk, but that's what they're doing. Carrying you forward. Deeper into the Walled City.

Just like you did in your dreams. Just as you always have.
You turn around and head back the way you came. Nothing stops you.

You close your eyes and breathe a sigh of relief.
When your eyes open again, you find yourself moving deeper into the Walled City.

You don't remember turning around. You certainly never chose to. But you're back on the path that you started on, following the trail. Just like you did in your dreams. Just as you always have.
You plant your feet and wait. Wait for something to change, for the Walled City to fade away and the Heoi docks to return.

You wait for what feels like hours. Nothing changes.
You open your mouth and shout for assistance. For Gobbet, for Duncan, for Is0bel. For anyone who might be listening.

The only answer that you receive is your own echo.
You try to blink away the image of the Walled City. To blot out the sounds and stench of the slum. You pinch yourself.

You don't wake up.
You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head, willing the images to disappear. Willing yourself back to Heoi, and out of the decaying slum that you've found yourself in.

When your eyes open, nothing has changed.
You calm yourself. Breathe. Gradually, your heart rate normalizes and the world swims back into focus.

Something is still very definitely wrong, but you're able to face it with a clear head and a steady heartbeat.
You reach up to feel your pulse. It’s racing. As you press your fingers to your neck, you note that your skin has gone cold and clammy.

Dimly, you realize that you're going into shock.
You gasp for air. It doesn't come.

Your breath shallows out, thins. Makes you gasp like a suffocating fish. Your chest contracts again and again as you struggle to take in breath.
You turn to head back toward the $(story.Global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName) - toward your teammates and the relative comfort of your new home.

And that's when the first twinge tickles your chest. Lets you know that something's coming.
You raise your wrist to capture the view with your PDA's built-in camera. The image swims into focus on the machine's tiny screen as the camera's lens adjusts to the light.

And that's when the first twinge tickles your chest. Lets you know that something's coming.
Rough fingers on your shoulder snap you back to reality. The hand clenches into a viselike grip and yanks you backward, off of your feet.

You come crashing down to the floor of the Heoi MTR station. You can feel a rush of wind just in front of you - a passing train.
What is wrong with you, $(l.name)?

{{GM}}Strangler Bao eyes you coolly.{{/GM}}

Auntie Cheng's lost too many runners already. Besides, there are cleaner ways to end your life than jumping in front of a train.
I was just in the Walled City. There was this... thing--
Thank you. I owe you my life.
That wasn't a suicide attempt, asshole. I was under magical attack.
{{GM}}He cuts you off with a grunt.{{/GM}}

You were hallucinating. And you almost just got yourself killed. Now get up and get back to that floating wreck that you sleep in.

You don't get to die in here unless Mrs. Cheng says you do.
{{GM}}He grunts.{{/GM}}

You're right. Now get up and get back to that floating wreck that you sleep in.

You don't get to die in here unless Mrs. Cheng says you do.
{{GM}}He grunts. Turns his back on you.{{/GM}}

Whatever.

Now get up and get back to that floating wreck that you sleep in.
Execute Shield ESP
Creates a Shield Expert System Program.
{{GM}}The lab worker rounds on you, and hisses through his mask.{{/GM}}

Get out of here! What if someone *sees us?* We've exchanged too many words already.

{{GM}}He waves his hands at you like someone trying to shoo away a stray cat.{{/GM}}
I trusted you! I *trusted* you!

{{GM}}The finger in your face makes it objectively clear that you're the "you" in question here.{{/GM}}

I gave you that code. And instead of respecting our kinship, you betrayed me and let the monster out! SECURITYYY!
Hey, I'm working he--

{{GM}}He does a double take.{{/GM}}

Uhh. Weren't you just...? Since when are you with Tsang maintenance?
No, wait! Don't tell me!

{{GM}}He props his chin up with his hand.{{/GM}}

You were with maintenance all along, but off the clock. Or, ah... your uniform was being laundered. Or you forgot it at home. You just got the job between now and our last conversation.
Of course, maybe you're not with maintenance at all. Maybe you're...

{{GM}}His hand drops and he gasps in surprise.{{/GM}}

ACTORS! Oh man, oh man. Am I on camera right now? No, wait... no. This is Tsang - it's highly unlikely they'd let you set up video equipment in here.
{{GM}}He exhales through his nose.{{/GM}}

In times like these, I always prefer to follow Occam's razor. In which case, you're probably an impostor. From the look of you before, maybe even a shadowrunner...

Better not take any chances. SECURITYYY!
{{GM}}As you enter the room, a group of security guards turn toward you, revealing the lab worker at the center of their flock. He points at you.{{/GM}}

There $(l.he) is! $(l.he)'s the one who used $(l.his) silver tongue to lull me into a state of trust. Then, when my defenses were down, $(l.he) beat the containment code out of me!

{{GM}}He lets out an exaggerated sob, and the guards leap toward you.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}You overhear a masked man in a lab coat mumbling to himself. After a moment, you realize that he's narrating his actions.{{/GM}}

With a flash of his pen, he approves the incoming lab expenses. Science shall not suffer at the hands of miserly department heads. No, not on *his* watch. Such fiery acumen, such daring! He runs a hand through his luscious locks of stubble. The women swoon. The men swoon. He is metahumanity's last hope!
*Ahem.*
Um... Hi.
You've gotta be kidding me...
{{GM}}His shoulders stiffen in surprise. He makes a small sound, then looks at you. You can't tell if he's angry or embarrassed.{{/GM}}

Hello! Hello, hello. Yes, ah... how long have you been there? Actually, never mind. You're here to... fix something?
{{GM}}Show him your Tsang passes.{{/GM}} Just making my rounds. How's the air quality in here?
{{CC}}Charisma: $(scene.alarmCharismaValue_Medium){{/CC}} {{GM}}Show him your Tsang passes.{{/GM}} Just found out we've got the budget to make some upgrades, so I'm checking in to see if your station needs any modifications or equipment installations.
{{GM}}The lab worker rolls his eyes.{{/GM}}

The *air* quality? You've interrupted my research to talk about this janitorial drivel? Test it yourself! I'm working.
No need to get pissy.
Sorry. Just trying to do my job.
Whatever, dickhole.
Look, I do very delicate, complicated work here. The last thing I need is a bunch of bumbling maintenance schlubs jeopardizing my work.
{{CC}}Conjuring: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Medium){{/CC}} I can see that. The spirits whom you've channeled to power your machinery are being monitored on the instruments over here, right? Seems as if you're probing the astral world to find out how they draw their power from that plane.
{{CC}}Spellcasting: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Medium){{/CC}} I can tell by the energy flowing through your setup that you're peering deep into the astral plane. Looking for something - the source of an aura. Is that right?
{{CC}}Etiquette: Academic{{/CC}} Hey, I get it. Judging by your equipment, it looks to me like you're exploring the effects that extraplanar beings exert on our realm, with a focus on investigating their energy sources. Not something you want bumbling custodians to interfere with.
Fine. Just don't come whining to me when your air filtration breaks.
You... You can see all that?

{{GM}}His baffled expression quickly morphs into one of ecstatic delight.{{/GM}}

No one else gets it, how crucial this project is. It's been so long since I've met anyone who understands my work here! I don't know where to begin...
It's genius, really. Well, I invented it, so *I'm* the genius, but the contraption itself is nothing short of spectacular. It uses advanced sonar to, in layman's terms, etch out an image of the astral plane. But instead of refracting off of physical objects, it refracts off of magical energies.
That's great, but I've gotta go.
I don't have time to listen to your mind-numbing prattle.
I know what you're thinking: "But *why* are you digging around in astral space, Wendel?" Unfortunately, I'm not at liberty to discuss those details with you. I've been entrusted with this task, and I take my job *very* seriously.
Hey, I mean it. I have to leave.
What a creep. I'm out.
I know, I can see the disappointment in your face. I *suppose* I could at least tell you where I store the information.

The sonar scans are oh-so-cleverly transcribed into a separate terminal that is constantly updating the results. This technique allows me to paint a picture of an abstract space. Revolutionary! Wouldn't you agree? Yes, of course you do. *You* understand.
I guess.
I do? Hey, don't distract me! I'm leaving now.
That mask doesn't stop the stench of crap pouring from your mouth. I need to get far away from here...
I'm sure you're wondering how I use this data to discern energies of value from nugatory ones inside astral space. Well, it actually relates to my sonar system. A minor adjustment that I made to its sound wave feature refines the oscillation signal and, in turn, alters my results. As the sound percolates through the other plane, only energies of substantial magical strength provide enough resistance for the signals to refract information back to my terminal.
Are you even listening to me?
Man, shut the fuck up.
{{GM}}He leans in, and his voice drops.{{/GM}}

To be perfectly honest, I actually got the idea from a video game. "Magic of Evermore: The Awakening." It was incredibly popular a decade ago. Have you played it?

No, that doesn't matter. You don't have to have played it. You already *get* it. We're kindred spirits, you and I. Just like Balgar the Great and his pox-faced friend, Pucok.
Tell me more.
I don't understand what's happening right now...
Are you deficient? All I'm hearing is a shit ton of word vomit.
Well, part of META's battle system involved an Otherworld where the fights took place in complete darkness. You had to do a sweep attack with your ringing axe to "see" the opponents. The audible attack would pass through lesser objects, but not the active energies of your enemies. The gameplay was crap, but the concept was there. And one day, on my 239th playthrough, I realized that its mechanics could be applied to an actual real-world system. It was plausible.
Imagine that.
Is it... is it over? Can I leave now?
Sorry, what was that? I wasn't listening. No, don't tell me - I don't give a damn. Outta here!
I don't want to brag, but there's no other scientist in intra-astral research who could accomplish what I've done. Built it from the ground up, myself. I named the sonar system BALS - Bridged Astral to Litodocument Sonar - after META's hero, Balgar.

{{GM}}He smiles wide, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.{{/GM}}
You must be very proud.
*Finally.* Now that you're done--
NERD. See you never, loser.
I feel like I can talk to you about anything. You know, I rarely had that growing up. Everyone was so impatient with me - I can't imagine why. Obviously, I was a child prodigy. I never outgrew my genius. But that didn't seem to make a difference to my parents, classmates, or teachers. No one wanted to talk to me.

When I finally got to university, the frat boys were so intensely jealous of my success that they used to bully me. One in particular harassed me mercilessly with names like "Wen-dull" and "Vomit Voice"...
{{GM}}A tear glistens in the corner of his eye. He turns his head to the side and shouts into his shoulder.{{/GM}}

Damn you, Chad Brawnsen.

You know, I started wearing this mask soon after I graduated - which I did early, I'm sure you've guessed - so people will think I'm sick and be friendlier. But even if they start out friendly, the second I open my mouth, they shrink away. I know it's my intellect... it intimidates people. I just wish they could see past that. See *me.* Like you do.
Yeah...
Your voice is killing me. I physically hurt. Stop. *Please.*
Feigning a disability so people will be nicer to you? You're disgusting. I'm leaving.
You know, someone with your sharp judgment could easily rise through the ranks here. Especially with *my* recommendation in your files.
That's generous of you.
I'll think it over.
Yeah... Maybe.
Give it some thought.

{{GM}}He cautiously glances over his shoulder.{{/GM}}

I really shouldn't be doing this, but I like you. So if you promise me - *promise* me - that you won't tell anyone, I'll give you the code to our containment chamber. We hit the astral jackpot in there. It will blow your mind! But I'd be seriously breaking company ordinance, so...
I promise, Wendel.
Afraid I can't do that.
Aww, c'mon. You can't wave that in front of my face and then say it's against policy. Would ¥200 change your mind?
{{GM}}He nods excitedly, mask bobbing up and down.{{/GM}}

Just don't let anyone see you enter, all right?
{{GM}}A small sound rolls in the back of Gaichu's throat.{{/GM}}
What is it, Gaichu?
I have found a new respect for you today, $(l.name). Enduring that man's prattle was a torture beyond many that I have witnessed. And yet, you waded through it all the way to the end, obtaining for us an important Tsang security code.
Quick, let's get out of here before he says something else.
I have many skills.
That was nothing. Just you wait until I get Duncan drunk... His nickname used to be "Drunkan Dump," you know.
So I'm discovering.
I'll make sure to be as far away from him as possible.
{{GM}}His words are heavy with disdain.{{/GM}}

If you'd kindly *leave* now, that'd be great. And, please, resist the urge to pester me again. I'm very busy.
Yeah... Sure sounded like it.
I'll let you get back to your work.
You haven't seen the last of me, buddy.
{{GM}}You overhear a shaggy man in a lab coat mumbling to himself. After a moment, you realize he's narrating his actions.{{/GM}}

With a flash of his pen, he approves the incoming lab expenses. Science shall not suffer at the hands of miserly department heads. No, not on *his* watch. Such fiery acumen, such daring! He runs a hand through his luscious locks of hair. The women swoon. The men swoon. He is metahumanity's last hope!
{{GM}}His shoulders stiffen in surprise. He makes a small sound, then looks at you. You can't tell if he's angry or embarrassed.{{/GM}}

Hello! Hello, hello. Yes, ah... how long have you been there? Actually, never mind. Who are you? Why are you in my lab?
{{GM}}Show him your Tsang passes.{{/GM}} Just relaxing before a meeting with you-know-who. Checking out the floor. Making sure this lab is up to grade.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(scene.alarmCharismaValue_Hard){{/CC}} {{GM}}Show him your Tsang passes.{{/GM}} Sorry, didn't mean to barge in. I've just heard so much about this laboratory that I had to come by and see it myself. It's more impressive than I imagined!
I don't know who you think you are, but you're no big name that I've ever met. You've disrupted my work and the tranquility of my laboratory. If you don't leave, I *will* summon security.
I get it. I'll leave you to your, uh... "work."
I have better things to do anyway.
{{GM}}A smug pride replaces his former uneasiness.{{/GM}}

My lab *is* rather formidable. But there's little here that someone like you could comprehend. Why don't you get back to doing... whatever it was you were doing? But outside my work space, please.
I told you once, and I won't tell you again: GET OUT.
Do you not see this very serious, very expensive, very important work that I'm doing? I told you to leave me alone, and now you've become an impediment to my research. One I need removed.

SECURITYYY!
{{GM}}The ghoul's blind eyes search back and forth as it regards you: it cannot see you, but you have a sense that it knows exactly where you are at all times.{{/GM}}

Ahh. A hired gun. No doubt brought to bear against me by the Whampoan Elders; a means by which they can lift the curse plaguing them.

I salute your tenacity, but I wonder: will you hear me out before raising your weapon to kill me?
You're a ghoul. And... You're talking?
You don't seem interested in eating me...
Don't even think about attacking me, ghoul.
Yes. I am not only talking, I am reasoning as well. And, since you have not attempted to kill me, your own higher faculties are engaged. I am a curiosity to you.

{{GM}}The ghoul bares his teeth, breath rasping over them as he inhales.{{/GM}}

You wish to to know not only what I am, but what I have done. As for who... You may call me Gaichu.
I know who you are. You're the one killing the Whampoan elders.
But you're still a serial killer.
You are correct.

I have killed all of the Whampoan Elders to date, though only Elder Magpie was according to my initial plan. I regret the deaths of the other Elders, but it was necessary.
Explain yourself.
What does "Gaichu" mean?
This affair started simple enough. As you may surmise, I am not someone who can be seen in public without great risk. The Whampoa Garden are an excellent place to hide: no police or triad presence, and minimal interest in things that lurk in the shadows.

Unfortunately for me, Elder Ng discovered me through communion with her spirits. Rather than kill or chase me away, she came to me with a proposition.
Ng and the other Elders were having problems with one of their number. An Elder named Magpie had been holding many of their plans hostage, and would not budge. They could not remove Magpie, however, because her services were too useful to the Whampoans at large.

Ng offered me payment to dispose of Magpie, and I accepted.
{{GM}}Wu shoots you a sidelong glance, tusks bared as he grits his jaw.{{/GM}}

Why the hell are we talking to this thing, $(l.name)? It's a goddamned ghoul, and you *know* what they're like.
Really? What, pray tell, am I like? All teeth and claws and bad manners, I expect.

{{GM}}Gaichu's tone is amused, despite the harshness of his rasping voice.{{/GM}}
Really? You wanna crack jokes, you cannibal?

{{GM}}Wu takes an involuntary step forward, raising his rifle.{{/GM}}

You're the kind of monster that'd devour a family, just because it's convenient. Remember the 162s, $(l.name)? He's just like them.
The 162s were a gang, Wu. In the Barrens.
What do you say to that, ghoul?
Like that makes a bit of difference.

Go on, then. Talk to the monster... But I'm keeping my finger on the goddamn trigger.
Why should I kill and eat a family? Have they threatened me? Tried to kill me?

{{GM}}The ghoul cocks his head, lips curling back in a scornful smile.{{/GM}}

No, I have plenty of food. And I prefer to only devour those who have tried to do me harm.
I believe that we were speaking of the Elders plans to have me kill Magpie?

Surely, you must be a little curious about that.
You're lying. I've never heard of Magpie. They'd have mentioned her.
I've heard of Magpie, but her shop's still locked up.
I've heard of Magpie. The Elders didn't like me asking for the key.
You didn't clean up all of her blood. I found some in her drain.
Would they, if they were hiding an assassination of their own number? Would you?

Everyone lies. Especially those with something to hide. Right now, I have nothing to hide and everything to lose.
I disposed of Magpie's body by emptying the blood in her bathroom. Then, I cut her up into more... portable... pieces. Those were placed in a plastic tarp, which I took to the storm drains and hid.

{{GM}}Gaichu nonchalantly waves a hand, his tone flat and unconcerned.{{/GM}}

It's unfortunate, but my survival depends upon consumption of raw metahuman flesh. Letting such nourishment go to waste would be a foolish error.
But why kill the other Elders, then?
That doesn't explain everything.
{{GM}}Attack{{/GM}} You're still a murderer, and I have a job to do!
I contacted the Elders - not in person, of course - and they arranged to exchange payment. I assumed that since the job was done, Ng would be a woman of her word.

{{GM}}Baring his teeth, Gaichu hisses his next words across clenched teeth.{{/GM}}

I was mistaken.
I arrived at the nearby parking garage the Elders had told me about. They'd cleared out the other Whampoans under some pretense, though I'm not sure what ruse they used.

The Elders never showed up. Instead, several members of the Hong Kong Police Force arrived. They were more heavily armed than usual, so I suspect they knew something of my nature.
Bullshit. The Whampoans wouldn't let a bunch of police in here just for you.
I heard about the fight. You expect me to believe you took on a police squad and won?
I saw scarring on the concrete from bullets and a blade. You killed them with a sword?
No? Then explain to me how it is that I came to fight several members of the HKPF. I can see no other explanation.

They were there with intent to kill someone, and the local Whampoans were gone. That is not logical unless the Elders allowed them in.
A betrayal of that sort cannot stand. Not only was I not paid for my time and effort, the Whampoan Elders treated me like a common animal. And I am so much more than that.

Reputation is everything, and I had none. I had hoped to build a network of contacts so that I would be able to continue finding work, but with that treachery, my hopes were dashed. I decided to become the monster that they feared.
I have become the monster they treated me as. One by one I have eliminated them. They know how to contact me, and could have ended their nightmare at any time by making amends. I would have asked for more money, but I would have ceased my hunt. Yet they did not.

Instead, they contacted you - no doubt asking you to eliminate me where the police had failed.
So I ask you: what now? What will you do? Will you attempt to finish what the Whampoans started?

Or will you treat me with the same humanity I have treated you?
Let me ask you some questions.
I've made my decision.
Very well. What would you like know?
Did you eat the Elders?
Is this from your armor?
Why would the Elders have you killed instead of paying you?
If I let you live, what will you do?
Some of them. Not all.

My condition requires that I consume raw metahuman flesh. I do not require a great deal to survive - perhaps three to four pounds per week. Consequently, there is vastly more... supply... than demand.
Ahh. Yes. I felt a ragged edge on one shoulderplate. I assume it was removed when one of the police officers shot me with his rifle.

The hazards of war include unkempt attire, unfortunately.
Any number of reasons. They are notorious cheapskates, and will always try to save money when dealing with outsiders.

It could be their natural inclination toward profit. They may regard me as subhuman, and therefore unworthy of respect. It could be that they felt I was too dangerous to allow to live. It could even be that they simply did not like me.
The net result is the same, however: they reneged on a deal we brokered, and attempted to have me killed.

A message must be sent. Blood must be paid. As they have hired you to kill me, they have obviously not learned their lesson.
Kill the rest of the Elders, and anyone else they send to exterminate me. It is a matter of survival.

Should I ever have the opportunity to work freelance again, potential employers need to understand the price of betrayal. These murders are my curriculum vitae in revenge.
Oh? What, then, will you do? How will this story end?
Come and work with me. I can be your face.
{{GM}}Attack{{/GM}} I've got a job to do. Die.
A curious offer. And what of the Elders? Will you allow me the satisfaction of killing them?
I want to see what they have to say first.
I haven't decided yet.
Of course. As you said: reputation is everything.
Hmm. I would council you not believe their words, but you have the sound of one who is wary as a matter of course.

Very well.
Let us wait until a bit later in the night. Most pedestrians will be off the street, and it will be easier for us to approach The Whampoa without being noticed.
Sounds like a good plan.
{{GM}}Gaichu smiles, his sharklike teeth glinting dull yellow in the light.{{/GM}}

Excellent. This is a better resolution than I could have hoped for.
Of course. I have survived as a ghoul for some years now, on the streets of Hong Kong. If that isn't evidence enough of my tenacity, I doubt any words I could say to you will change your mind.
And my hands, yes. My blindness precludes the use of ranged weapons - unfortunate, since I was an excellent shot before I became infected. But my skills in grappling and kenjutsu have only increased.

A battle of swords is a clash of souls: mine was stronger than theirs, and they perished.
Afford me a moment, and I will explain the rest to you.
Naturally. They would keep her servers under lock and key, to avoid any awkward questions about her whereabouts.

I was thorough in disposing of her, as our contract stipulated. She was to simply disappear without a trace - a task that was easy enough to accomplish.
Ahh. Unfortunate. I had thought I was careful enough... Having it on my hands must have obscured my sense of smell enough that I missed the last remnants in the drain.
"Harmful insect." It's the name I have taken for myself, since the word is usually applied to pests - especially ones who drink blood, such as leeches and mosquitos.

The first character means "injury" or "evil influence," and the second means insect or worm.
No. I am an assassin. I sell my services. I take no joy in the death of the Whampoan Elders, but their deaths were required.
You were hired to kill them?
{{GM}}The ghoul shakes his head, resting one hand on the pommel of his sword.{{/GM}}

Not as such. In fact, the Elders were the ones who retained my services.
Please. I have no intention of starting a fight with you. I would much rather you hear me out than engage in combat.

Also, my name is not 'ghoul'. You may call me Gaichu.
Exploding Electro Current.
>>Eastern Tiger FileOS 2.2.1

Files:
1.) Development Diary - Project Overview
2.) Development Diary - Phenotypic Alteration
3.) Development Diary - Longevity research

Please select file data.
{{GM}}Select File 1.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Select File 2.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Select File 3.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Download data.{{/GM}}
>> Initial research into metagenetics presents a singular challenge: to wit, the study not of genes themselves, but of the interaction between genetics and the unseen world of astral space.

If the creation of a particular metatype or magically-expressed phenotype was as simple as the recombination of given amino acid sequences, then the creation of mages would be as simple as the expression of a given eye color or skin tone.
Unfortunately, such expressions are far more complex. The expression of traits previously considered to be 'supernatural' is a complex interplay between mundane DNA, the condition of the ambient manasphere at the time of development, and the interactions between genes and what we have dubbed 'astral shadows.'

Any research into these is fraught with difficulty, due to their resistance to traditional - that is to say - technological - instruments.
Ergo, Omega Sequence #358G is a project de-coupled from the usual safeguards against project overruns. We have been granted extensive magical assistance in our pursuit of higher metagenetic understanding - as well as autonomy from legal concerns.

As such, Omega Sequence project materials must be kept in Eastern Tiger secure facilities only. Deviation from this may result in local law enforcement interest, and subsequent cleanup costs can be prohibitive. <<
>> Phenotypic alteration is the key process which allows for the Omega Sequence project to progress. Ordinarily, an organism's phenotype is set and cannot be changed after a very early point in development. Morphology, phenology, replication processes: any alteration in the coding sequence of a living organism is invariably fatal.

Except in the case of the Omega Sequence.
A combination of alkylating agents, ambient mana control, and potent alpha emitters allow us to control the replication of the Omega Sequence metagene.

This is accomplished through alteration of the interactions between DNA and their astral shadows - the building blocks of metagenetics and mana-based abilities.
To understand this concept, consider an Indonesian shadowplay. The story one watches is not of the puppets, but the shadows they cast. A skillful puppeteer manipulates not just the puppets, but the space between the screen and the viewer.

So, too, is it with metagenetics. Magical aptitude, metagenetic traits, and formerly unknown parazoology are revealed when mana levels reach a sufficient point to allow the astral shadows of DNA to engage in their delicate, powerful dance of replication.
To change the metagenetics of an organism, we do not manipulate only the subject's DNA, but the space between that DNA and the astral plane. We cast the requisite shadows, engendering change that cannot be explained solely by base pairs, alleles, and nucleotides.

Control is our challenge. Control is a delicate art: it requires patience and perseverance, as well as scientific acumen. But with a fine enough degree of control, we will be able to replicate magical abilities, trait expression, and 'black swan' effects.
What are these 'black swan' traits? Individuals born during events which cause ambient mana to spike have been known to express extreme magical potential and metatraits not possessed by the majority of their metatype. Research into Homo Sapiens Nobilis subjects born during the Awakening, for instance, indicate that ordinary Elven longevity simply does not apply - that there is no upper bound to their telometric regeneration.

Effectively, they appear to be immortal. <<
>> The goal of the Omega Sequence project is to harness and unlock these black swan metatraits, beginning with the question of the longevity factor in Homo Sapiens Nobilis.

Treatments for extending human lifespans already exist, of course: organ transplantation can extend life by up to fifty years, and Leonization treatment can theoretically extend life for several hundred. Yet the drawbacks of these are apparent to any who scratch the surface.
Leonization is prohibitively expensive, and erodes the patient's essence with every treatment, leading to eventual systemic collapse. Organ transplants can preserve the body, but plaques build up in the patient's neural tissue, and the patient must take a cornucopia of immunosuppressants for the duration of their life.

True longevity lies in preventing aging from occurring at all.
Omega Sequence #358G represents our most advanced metagenetic prototype yet. Preliminary results indicate that the test clone's age will lock at 19 years, and progress no further. In order to test this, we have induced artificial aging of the clone through our FastGro organ replacement process.

Unfortunately, this has lead to an explosive cancer and mutation rate, rendering it non-viable for any other types of metagenetic research. Even so, the value of this test subject cannot be overstated. <<
You download the data, wiping all traces of it off the computer.
This computer appears to have an open port for a cyberdeck.
CombatStim
There's a Matrix jack on this terminal.
The Shiny Object
A malevolent egg of deep red jade. The source of the Rat King's power, and the key to controlling its swarm of Awakened vermin.
This is a control panel for the ship's water pumps and fire suppression system. The knobs and switches here can cut off or supply water to anywhere on the ship with an outlet.
The readouts indicate that Fire Suppression System doesn't have any safety locks engaged on it. By adjusting the pressure, you could flood the hallways leading to this deck, slowing down any guards trying to reinforce the area.

This would certainly set off a ship-wide alarm and draw every available guard to your position, however.
{{GM}}Overload the water pressure.{{/GM}}
The readouts indicate that Fire Suppression System doesn't have any safety locks engaged on it. By adjusting the pressure, you could flood the hallways leading to this deck, slowing down any guards trying to reinforce the area.

It wouldn't stop backup from arriving, but it would delay their ability to get to this deck.
Tar Blaster 1.0
An area-effect Matrix attack that deals -75 IP DMG to IC and deckers, and roots them in place for 1 RND.
Tar: Cannot Move
Conjure
Conjure a mystic barrier.
You think I'm just gonna let you hand this off without a fight? Nah, that's not happening.

I tell you what: I'm still gonna let you walk out of here alive. I'll pay you for the data and let you live. Not the Elf, though. He dies.
Oh, look. It's the idiot brigade.
Don't you get the hint? I'm not interested in your pitch.
{{GM}}Hwang tilts his head back and laughs at Tigath. His sneer forms an ugly scar across his face.{{/GM}}

You didn't think shadowrunners would show you any more loyalty than you showed them, did you?

You expect them to honor the word of a lying dog?
No. No, I don't think so. Not today.

{{GM}}Tigath suddenly bolts toward the nearby kiosk.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Hwang glances is your direction, nodding.{{/GM}}

Are you ready?
{{GM}}Eyes wild, Tigath waves a hand in your direction.{{/GM}}

You can't believe him! He's a lying bastard!
Your story doesn't add up, Wright.
He's not wrong, Hwang. There are too many variables here.
I'm not sure what the hell is going on.
You see? End of the line, Wright!

You tell your men to surrender, maybe I'll let you survive. Maybe.
{{GM}}Tigath's eyes narrow, and he grits his teeth.

No. No, I think not.

{{GM}}There is a sudden sound of running - boots on concrete. In the split second you glance over the elf's shoulder, he's in motion.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Hwang snorts, rolling his eyes.{{/GM}}

Are you an idiot? I've shown you the facts, and you're still dicking--
{{GM}}Hwang shakes his head at you, incredulous.{{/GM}}

What is *wrong* with you, $(l.man)?! I laid everything out for you, and you're still not--
{{GM}}Magical energy begins to arc around Wright's hands.{{/GM}}

What now, then? It seems we're at an impasse.

And I'm not about to go back to Portland empty-handed!
You lying bastard. Nobody double-crosses me and lives.
I'm finishing the job. To hell with the Seoulpas.
Both of you are crazy. I'm walking out of here with the data. Try to stop me, and I'll put you down.
{{GM}}Hwang chambers a round in his submachine gun and spits toward Tigath.{{/GM}}

Come on! I'll paint Ho Chung with your blood!
{{GM}}An thin smile spreads over Tigath's face, and he nods in satisfaction.{{/GM}}

Good. You made the right choice.

Let's have this done, then.
{{GM}}Hwang's lips curl back from his teeth, and he spits toward you.{{/GM}}

What?! Are you crazy? You won't make it ten feet, omae!
Repulsive as it is, I have to agree with the little toad.

You're not leaving with that data.
You're welcome to try stopping me.
Let me show you why I'm a survivor.
I regret to inform you that the situation has changed.

I won't be able to pay you what I promised - operational costs, you understand.
Fine. Whatever. Let's just get this done with.
{{GM}}Attack{{/GM}} You double-crossing bastard!
{{GM}}You hand the data and samples to Tigath.{{/GM}}

A wise decision. I'll see the money is wired to your account.

Farewell, $(l.name). And good luck.
I'm not sure you want to pick this fight, $(l.name)!

Hand over the goods, and I'll pay you in nuyen. Keep them, and I pay you in bullets.
I do you the courtesy of calling you, warning you about this son of a bitch, and you hang up on me?

You're going to bleed for that. I'm gonna staple your tongue to Kindly Cheng's door!
You don't ever give up, do you?
Go ahead and try it, you arrogant ass.
I am Hwang Jae Min! I command the Blue Heaven Ring!

{{GM}}Hwang squares his shoulders, pulling his submachine gun to bear on you.{{/GM}}

I'm not about to let some two-bit shadowrunner scorn me like you did.
I'll make you one final offer. You give me the data and samples. Help me kill this elf.

In exchange, I let you walk out of here alive.
{{GM}}As you are distracted, Tigath puts one hand to his ear and utters a single sentence.{{/GM}}

Move in and secure the area.

{{GM}}There is a sudden sound of running - boots on concrete. In the split second you glance over the elf's shoulder, he's in motion.{{/GM}}
HongKong
Shadowrun: Hong Kong
$(scene.MidRing_CrazedCivilian_Name)
The adept ends their turn, but will counterattack with their current weapon when attacked. Maximum of 3 counter-attacks per turn.
A breath of fire that causes -8 HP DMG and does -4 HP DMG that last for 2 RNDS.
Red Samurai Heavy
Dual Aim III
Increases the target's to hit chance by 12-18%, and the caster's to hit chance by 8%. Does not stack, nor affect AOE abilities. Lasts 4 RNDS.
Aim: Accuracy +18%
Killer 1 (Matrix)
A flood of engrams streaks by. You hack into the flow, capturing a small clump of tight, distinct memories, tiny and round. One of them glows, set apart from the others by its intensity.
The verdant aroma of a still pond on a late summer day. Its reflective surface is disturbed by a single tear. As the ripples glide from its impact point, a young boy's face is reflected in the water, grief fracturing its innocence.

He traces the character for "father" in the water with his finger.
Stun Dart
A basic sedative is administered at range to enemy targets, doing 1 AP DMG.
Salish Runner
Clothes directly imported from the Salish-Shidhe Council.
The gnarled bar stool offers little in the way of comfort. A quick look around reveals the disparity between the restaurant proper and the bar, the latter of which appears neglected in comparison to the pristine dining room.

Old, dried drink rings dapple the counter's uneven surface, and angry scratches run down its length. But you've got time to kill before Rooster arrives, and this is as good a spot as any to wait.
{{GM}}Grab a drink and wait.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Have a seat and wait.{{/GM}}
The minutes tick away as you mull over a cold one. Rooster should be here any time now.
The minutes tick away. Rooster should be here any time now.
{{GM}}Callum is obviously drunk.{{/GM}}

You need some drugs? Things are crazy outside our heads. Might as well be crazy inside your head, too.
Hook me up.
{{GM}}Better groomed than most of his kind, the young troll nonetheless ruins the effort with his own blatant drunkenness. His eyes are red and his expression foggy, but he otherwise appears to be high functioning.{{/GM}}

Have a drink, friend. Have two. Then maybe something else to chase it, eh?
You all right?
Not while I'm on the job.
I think you may have drunk it all.
Couldn’t be better.
I’m a prince of Club 88! Chosen, you might say.
You part of the family that owns this place?
You are a shrewd one, friend. I am the heir apparent. And my birthright? To peddle chems to every sniffer that passes through our gates. What do you say? Need something to pick you up, or bring you down?
Let’s see what you have.
Can you tell me what I might find around here?
Not right now, thanks.
Not a hell of a lot. But I suppose it depends what you’re in the market for. I’m your man for chemistry. My ma offers an assortment of firearms in the back. Everything else here is just glitter and smoke.
If you’re looking for tech, Law’s place sells all the techno-baubles you could ask for. Just walk towards the giant blue holosign that gives everyone a headache. Out further on the same dock, Reliable Matthew is your basic used drone salesman. He's the only game in town for that sort of stuff.
If you’re needing magical whatsits, try the Parlor of Five Phases. Haven’t a clue about that stuff myself, but both places certainly smell legit from the street.
You’re better off staying here though. I could set you up with an ampoule of something really smooth.
You should have my job then.
And why shouldn't I? It is my right!
Need something to pick you up or bring you down?
{{GM}}The eldest son of the Ka Fai family appears to be far less inebriated than before, though there is still a drink clutched in his massive hand. He’s parting ways with an uncharacteristically awkward elf who palms something as she goes.{{/GM}}

Evening. Callum Ka Fai, at your service.
We met once before.
You know me.
You forget me already?
Have we?
I suppose one of us didn’t make much of an impression.
I think I liked you better when you were plastered.
You're certainly making one now.
You’re kinda bitchy when you’re sober.
Well, here's to becoming a better man in your eyes.
{{GM}}He takes a drink.{{/GM}}

Now, you in the market for something? I got Bliss, Jazz, Cram, Nitro, and a dozen other little concoctions that the West doesn’t even have names for yet. What’ll it be?
Let’s have a look.
I’d like to know a little more about you.
How many shots does it take to lay out someone your size?
Me? Why would you want to know about me? I’m nothing. I sling poison to the dregs of Heoi.
It’s not like I ever wanted anything more than this, right? I can see it on your face. You can probably see it all over mine. What good would an education serve someone like me? Why would I ever consider making something of myself? To go places?
Sure, I can fill out a suit like nobody’s business, but people see a troll in Armani like they see an organ grinder’s monkey. No, this is the place for me. This is where I belong.
I’ll let you know if it ever happens.
Here's my impression of a storm drain.
I agree. And I intend to work on that.
Do I?
Maybe I have.
Looking to score?
{{GM}}The elder of the two Ka Fai sons is once again lost in his cups. He watches, bleary-eyed, as patrons pass him by. Something in his expression makes it seem that he resents each one, simply for being.{{/GM}}

You again? Decided to make this hole home, have you?
Not much of a choice.
More like a base of operations.
Be it ever so humble...
Ha! This is something I can drink to.
Sit down, if you’d like. I could tell you tales...
I’m actually more interested in your merchandise.
Tell me a story.
Tell me about this family of yours.
You ever hear the one about the phantom sailor? They say he was once a good man. Provided for his family. Loved his wife and children. He spent many lonely days out on the sea, working hard to make their lives better.
But the ocean takes its toll. Every time he returned, he came back with a little less of himself - until one day, the thing that came home was just a shell. The mindless body of the old seafarer, with his soul still lost at sea.
The mind and body call to each other. And one day, the sailor will walk down the beach and step into the waves, letting the ocean swallow him whole.
True story.
What’s to tell? My brother is a meathead, and my parents don’t even know or care who I am.
They say they care for family first, but to them family isn’t four people under a roof, it’s some abstract concept. It’s the name that matters to them. The Ka Fai name. That’s family.
My mother only cares about the business. Any hint that I want to look for a better opportunity is met with lectures. And as for Ba, well, he’s never been the same since his life went into dry dock.
First chance I get, I leave it all behind. Mark my words.
Ooooh, don't you sound all tough.
Humility has no place around here.
You here to chat me up? Or shall I tell you a story?
{{GM}}Callum sits with his eyes closed and his head back. One might assume he’s asleep or trying to shake a particularly nasty hangover. But when he stirs, his eyes are clear and uncharacteristically focused.{{/GM}}

$(l.name), right? What brings you back?
It's good to see you sober, Callum.
I see your memory works fine when you're clearheaded.
Shouldn’t you be three sheets to the wind?
I've cut myself off. Got some serious thinking to do.
What's going on?
Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. Could be a way out of this pit. A way to do something more with my life than sell cheap thrills in cheap pills.
Are you still open for business? Because I’m buying.
What’s this way out you mentioned?
Is it really so bad here?
I met a man. Or rather, a man sought me out - and went to all the trouble to set up a meet, and get into Heoi. That takes guts, for someone corporate.
He said he’s a recruiter. Like a talent scout for one of the big corporations. And they’re interested in me.

*Me.*
Can you believe that? Even way down here in Heoi, they heard of me. They see potential in me. Callum Ka Fai.
One of the big shots at this corp wants to be my benefactor. It’s amazing, right? Even Li Ka-Shing needed mentors, and he became one of the most successful men in the world.

This is my start. This is my break.
This recruiter wouldn’t tell me the guy’s name, or the name of the corp. It’s all still very preliminary. This was just a first step, you know. But a first step toward walking out of here.
You’ve been here long enough, you should know better by now. Most people figure it out in the first few hours. Heoi is a way station. Halfway between something better and something worse.
You stay here, you’re just accepting the fact that you’ll never amount to anything. You’re agreeing that all you care about is keeping your head above water. It’s four good walls and three square meals, at its best.
Some people pass through on their way down, before bottoming out in the Walled City or as a floater in the harbor. Others pass through on their way up, to places like Taikoo Shing or Aberdeen. That’s how I intend to go.
I suppose it does. And I need that clear thinking tonight.
No, I’ve got to keep my head clear tonight.
I can't wait until I get out of here.
{{GM}}Even though he has a drink in his hand, the red in Callum’s eyes is not that of drunken stupor, but of barely suppressed rage. An angry troll is a dangerous thing, and an angry drunk troll is a disaster waiting to happen.{{/GM}}

What do you want?
You don’t look so good.
Watch your tone.
Wake up on the wrong side of the bottle?
You should see the other guy. Ha! Not a scratch on her, of course.
Might be easier if she just hit me. But she fights with words. Infusing them with guilt and fear and deceit. She gets in your head. It’s no wonder I’m having such twisted dreams.
Would it be insensitive to ask to see your merchandise?
Problems with your mother?
Dream?
Asking that is like asking for my life story. But the short version is that my parents have been actively working against me since I was old enough to think for myself. But this time, it goes beyond discouragement. It’s a new low. No other word for it but sabotage.
Whoever my would-be patron is, he works for Baihu. Same corp my mother used to work for. Not sure why she quit, but it must have been an ugly break, for her to be acting this way. To think she’d be so spiteful that she’d deny her own son a future because of it.
Always thought she just wanted me home, working as a wage slave in her own house. Turns out, the bitch just can’t stand the thought of me succeeding where she failed.
Messed up dreams. Same one, actually. Over and over.
I’m lying on a long dining table, like you’d find in a rich man’s home. Real wood, polished, and set with all the finery. But there I am, right in the middle of it all. Like the main course.
I hear whispers all around me. Women’s voices. Then one of them approaches, and I see that it’s my mother. She doesn’t even look me in the eye. She just sees me like an object. Some kind of thing. And then she cuts into me.
I don’t feel any pain. I suppose I’m dead. But I scream anyway. I scream because of the look on her face when she starts to eat the hunk of me she carved off. Her teeth. Her teeth are terrifying.
Then another woman approaches, and it’s my mother again. They all are. And they all start devouring me, bit by bit, until there’s nothing left.
Or what? You'll hit me. I've already taken a tongue-lashing from my mother, thanks.
I wasn't planning to have a drop. But then my mother happened.
Even in my dreams my mother is killing me.
{{GM}}Callum has calmed greatly since last time. He has once again oscillated into his more somber brooding mode. He looks almost professional as he conducts a little business with some rail-thin gangers aching for their fix.{{/GM}}

Back again, I see. What is it about this place? The music? The sweaty bodies? Or is it my messed-up family that keeps bringing you back?
I like to keep tabs on people.
It's just business.
I’m not much of a dancer.
Not sure the people around here are worth keeping tabs on.
Well, if you can keep it on the down-low, I got news I’m dying to share with somebody. You runner types are good with secrets, right?
Let’s hear it.
So I snuck off behind my mother’s back. I can’t believe those words are coming out of my mouth. No grown man should have to ever say that! But that’s what I had to do, and so that’s what I did.
I finally met this guy who wants to be my benefactor. His name is Matthew Tai. He's a human guy.
He rolled up on the dock in a speedboat... with guards and everything. Real slick dude... like, classy. Powerful-classy.

He asked me to call him Matt. Isn’t that great?
I hopped in, and off we went. We had dinner together. It was a little strange, but I’m still glad I went. The things he told me...
Actually, I really just need a look at your merchandise.
What kind of things?
How was it weird?
For one, he said he remembers my mother. Apparently, he knew her well. In fact, he said he knew her better than anyone back at Baihu. And that’s partly how he came to know of me, I guess.
But the way he talked about my mother, it was like, I don’t know, there was something between them. He had this wistful look on his face, and a smirk when he said her name. Probably the same kind of look on my face right now. Like he was keeping a wonderful secret.
I don’t remember my father ever looking that way with my mother. Got me wondering about a lot of things...
It got weird at the end. Like there was more he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. Maybe he didn’t want to get my hopes up too high, in case the whole arrangement didn’t pan out. Not sure.
The strangest part by far, though, was when his security detail bussed our table and bagged everything we had touched. Glasses, plates, utensils, napkins.
Mr. Tai, I mean, Matt said it was a standard precaution for men in his position. Even the smallest genetic sample could be used to subvert biometric security systems. Or it could be used in ritual magic.
Never really thought about it before. But these are just the kinds of things I think I could learn from this guy.
Your business seems to be everyone else's.
Just an excuse to poke around then?
I can't get over my meeting with Mr. Tai. The things he said. So strange, but exciting, too.
{{GM}}Callum is in a rare state, steeped neither in melancholy nor in alcohol-fueled oblivion. His excitement can barely be held back by the corners of his mouth, and this comes in stark contrast to the dread hanging over Heoi.{{/GM}}

This is it, $(l.name). It’s actually happening!
What’s happening?
All right, spill it.
The Rapture?
My chance. My stepping on up.
It’s official. My ship has finally come in.
My mother won’t approve. My father won’t care. And my brother won’t understand. But this opportunity is too great to pass up. Certainly you see that?
Seems almost too good to be true.
You don’t know the half of it.
Mr. Tai confessed to something else. They performed a genetic test after our dinner. He says I’m his son.
It all makes sense now. I’ve never fit in here. And I’m nothing like my father or my brother.
Don’t you see? My mother had an affair with Mr. Tai. All her attempts to keep me down were really just efforts to save face. She couldn’t let anyone know her shame. That Henry isn’t my father.
But it doesn’t matter now. My real father has found me. And he’s going to give me the life I always deserved.
For starters, he’s invited me on a Baihu corporate retreat for execs and their families. He wants me to meet his wife and his two daughters. Imagine that! I’ve got two little half sisters.
I can’t wait to leave this all behind.
I’m happy for you.
I don’t know about this.
This is still your family, Callum.
Thanks. It means a lot that you listened to me. I didn’t have anyone else to talk to about this.
I won’t forget it. Maybe someday I’ll be in a position to throw a little corporate work your way.
Follow your ambitions, Callum. Get out there after it.
There's a lot at stake here, and that world isn't always as it seems. Think about it for a while.
Leaving the family you *have* for Matthew Tai would be a big mistake, Callum. Don't do it.
{{GM}}Callum's gaze is steely with determination.{{/GM}}

I'm going for it.
{{GM}}Callum nods thoughtfully.{{/GM}}

Thanks, $(L.name). I will.
{{GM}}Callum nods thoughtfully.{{/GM}}

Thanks, $(L.name). I think you might be right... even though I wish you weren't.
What’s not to know? Matt is the only one who has been honest with me. My mother has been lying to me my entire life.
I don’t owe her anything. I’ve paid for her lies long enough. It’s time I got something for myself. Right?
Are you trying to convince me or yourself?
I... I just don’t know.
But maybe you’re right. I need to think about this.
But... but can’t you see how I’m hurting here? This is the first time I’ve been sober in years. This is my chance. I should throw that away?
For what? A father who is not my real father? A mother who lied to me? A brother whose greatest joy is hurling bodies into the street?
We can’t choose our families, but we can choose to stand by them.
But I *can* choose, can't I? That's what this is all about.
I don't know where to start. I'm just so excited.
What? No, listen!
Yeah, let's take a look at your goods.
{{GM}}Callum remains in his usual spot, but it is not the usual Callum. His eyes are clear, and there isn't a whiff of alcohol on his breath. The only spirits apparently raised are his own.{{/GM}}

You’re alive. Some were saying you weren’t coming back.
Came close.
Look, I need to apologize. You were right. I’m not sure what had come over me, over all of us. I wasn’t thinking straight.
I had a long talk with my ma. She told me the truth about what happens at Baihu. It’s horrifying. I can’t even believe it’s possible.

{{GM}}Callum nods gravely to himself.{{/GM}}

My Ma isn't perfect, but I guess she's really willing to live by her principles. I can respect that.
I’ve cut off all ties with... Mr. Tai. I don’t know what he had planned for me. Whether he was going to kill me or make me his heir, it doesn’t matter.

You've got to stand for what's right, in this world, or you've got nothing. That's what Ka Fais do.
I think Ma and I understand one another better, now. It's made us stronger. And I owe that to you.

If we hadn’t talked things through, I would have run off blindly to join that man. And no matter the outcome for me, it would have killed my Ma.
But she also now knows I've got the same ambition she had. I've got the same fire. I can't spend my life in a bar. I've got to *do* something.
So thank you. Thank you for that, and everything else you’ve done for Heoi.
You're very welcome, Callum.
Just part of the job.
Time to turn this good will into good swill.
{{GM}}Callum laughs.{{/GM}}

Let's just say I owe you a favor.
{{GM}}Callum seems both unusually sober, and unusually thoughtful.{{/GM}}

I'm thinking about what you said. Thinking about it hard.

You need anything to get your blood up?
{{GM}}Callum nods, very subtly, as you approach.{{/GM}}

Just taking care of business before I get out of here. I can't help but wonder if you're a short-timer, too.

Well, is there anything you need?
Scramble Lvl 1
Hostile target will take 1 AP DMG for 2 rounds.
Scrambled: AP -1
Wuxing Employee ID
A standard Wuxing ID, this one belongs to Charles Pang, the employee you lifted it from. His access is limited, but it may open some doors.
DocWagon Platinum Trauma Kit
Restores a downed teammate to battle with 100% of their total health. Consumed when used, or automatically when downed.
The tenement that Dreamland lives in smells of mold and desperation. The people living here are the kind who don't want to be found.
Okay, this is the right place, $(l.name). Emilie should be in the first apartment.
Is she dangerous?
Is she alone?
She shouldn't be. Emilie's a decker, yes, but she's really more into programming than she is violence. Her handle is "Dreamland," after all.

She quit running last year. Something about some sort of activist activity that she used to be into, and a bunch of big-money execs who're holding a grudge.
Emilie's from Berlin, but she moved to Hong Kong after the F-State collapsed. The Schockwellenreiter - that's the group that she worked for - were supposed to protect her, but they've got their own problems to deal with now.

I guess that she decided she'd be safer on her own.
I heard about the fall of the F-State. Sounded like chaos.
F-State? I'm not up on my world politics.
That's what I heard, too. An experiment in sustained institutional anarchy? Great environment for a shadowrunner, but it ended up just like Communism did. Another pipe dream.

The German government gave the corporations the go-ahead to invade and they forced the anarchists to retreat to the eastern part of the city. Now Berlin's run by the corps, just like Hong Kong.

I bet they wind up building a wall again. Wouldn't put it past them.
Okay, so how should we handle this friend of yours?
Anything else we should know before we talk to Dreamland?
No clue, really. I've never met her in meatspace.

Just be your charming self. I'm sure that everything will work out just fine.
No clue, really. I've never met her in meatspace.

Just be your charming self, I guess. I'm sure that everything will work out just fine.
An experiment in sustained institutional anarchy. Great environment for a shadowrunner, but it ended up just like Communism did. Another pipe dream.

The German government gave the corporations the go-ahead to invade last year and they forced the anarchists to retreat to the eastern part of the city. Now Berlin's run by the corps, just like Hong Kong.

I bet they wind up building a wall again. Wouldn't put it past them.
Should be. I haven't heard anything about her having company. I distantly remember hearing about some old boyfriend who might still be in the mix. Even if he is, he isn't here in Hong Kong.

I do know that she's in danger, though. There're a bunch of big-money execs who're holding a grudge over some activist activities that she used to be into.
These tattered robes give a freedom of movement and minor protection from harm.
Advanced Drone Repair Kit
An advanced drone repair kit that repairs 20 HP.
The Tourist Look
Just toss it on and head on out. Perfect for working in the shop. Grants +1 Intelligence.
Hydro Daggers
A shot of water.
Crew: Shaman
Knight Errant Rigger
You hit the ground with a bone-snapping crunch. Everything goes black.
// HORIZON NEWS //
You are about to leave this location and enter the subway system. Continue?
Fresh construction is expanding the harbor out into the water. Corporate interests can afford to create new streets.
HARD LANDING ATTERRISSAGE BRUTAL
Raymond Black. The old man gave you a home once. Took you and Duncan off the gang-ridden streets of the Barrens - sheltered, educated, slapped sense into you both, until you almost resembled productive members of society.

And then you took off. Left it all behind. Landed behind bars for a time, tried to start a new life after that. It's been eight years since you've heard Raymond's voice. Until out of the blue, you got this cryptic message, a plea for help: "Meet me in Hong Kong, right away." And, wired to your account, enough nuyen to pay for the flight and then some.

The descent is rough. A squall comes out of nowhere, sending a solid sheet of rain punching into the suborbital transport. With a ragged shudder, the plane finally skids to a halt at the edge of the Chek Lap Kok tarmac. An hour and an interminable number of emotionless security checkpoints later, you hail a water taxi to Victoria Harbour. Hong Kong looms ahead, pulsing with energy.		 Raymond Black. Le vieil homme vous a offert un foyer autrefois. Il vous a sortie Duncan et vous des Barrens en proie aux gangs des rues - abrité, instruit, inculqué en vous deux, le bon sens à coup de gifle, jusqu'à ce que vous ressembliez presque à des membres productifs de la société.

Et puis vous avez pris votre envol. Abandonnant tout derrière vous. Vous avez atterri derrière les barreaux pour un temps, essayé de commencer une nouvelle vie après ça. Ca fait huit ans depuis la dernière fois que vous avez entendu la voix de Raymond. Jusqu'à ce que vous receviez ce message cryptique sortie de nulle part, un appel à l'aide: "Retrouve moi à Hong Kong, tout de suite." et, viré sur votre compte, plus de nuyens que nécessaire pour acheter un billet d'avion.

La descente est rude. Un grain sort de nulle part, projetant un rideau épais de pluie contre le transport suborbitale. Avec un crissement rageur, l'avion dérape finalement à un arrêt au bord du tarmac de Chek Lap Kok. Une heure et un nombre interminable de points de contrôle de sécurité dénués d'émotion plus tard, vous hélez un bateau-bus pour Victoria Harbour. Hong Kong se profile, pulsant avec énergie.
Raymond Black Raymond Black
Carter Carter
Tattooed Gunman Porte-flingue tatoué
Mage Mage
Thug Voyou
Enforcer Exécuteur
Street Mage Mage des rues
Street Soldier Soldat des rues
Tattooed Smuggler Contrebandier tatoué
Shy Dwarf Naine timide
Smirking Elf Elfe au sourire sournois
Husky Troll Troll enroué
Lone Star Sniper Sniper de la Lone Star
Officer on Megaphone Officier au mégaphone
Newscaster Présentateur
HKPF Drone Drone HKPF
Head to the Meeting Location Dirigez-vous vers le Lieu de la réunion
Take Cover Se mettre à l'abri
Get Everyone Out Alive Faites sortir tout le monde vivant
Duncan Must Survive Duncan doit survivre
Keep the Team Alive Gardez l'équipe en vie
Get to the Alley
Darkbolt 1
The most basic spell every demon-mage knows and always has ready. Le sort le plus élémentaire que chaque mage-démon connaît et a toujours disponible.
Heal Wound I
Heals all of the damage from the most recent attack. Soigne tous les dommages causés par l'attaque la plus récente.
Hyper
Accuracy is increased by 6%, but incoming DMG is increased by 2 for 5 RNDS of combat. La précision est augmenté de 6%, mais les dégâts subits sont augmentés de 2 pour 5 RNDS de combat.
Hyper: Accuracy +6%, Incoming DMG +2 Hyper: Précision +6%, Dégâts subits +2
Hotel Keycard Carte magnétique de l'hôtel
A standard-issue keycard from Neville Ma's apartment. Une carte magnétique commune de l'appartement de Neville Ma.
A crushing claw attack that does -8 HP DMG. Une attaque de griffes écrasante qui fait -8 HP DMG.
Force 6 Toxic Elemental Fetish Fétiche d'élémentaire toxique de Force 6
Summons a Force 6 Toxic Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used. Invoque un élémentaire toxique de Force 6. Ce fétiche est consommé lorsqu'il est utilisé.
Secure Rigger Clothing Vêtement de Rigger sécurisé
Basic clothing for the shadowrunning rigger. Vêtements de base pour le rigger shadowrunner.
The top of the line is Ares' military spec high-explosive grenade. Strips 1 Armor from affected targets. Le haut de gamme en matière de grenade hautement explosive des spécifications militaire d'Ares. Réduit 1 Armure aux cibles affectées.
A mouth of horrible teeth that rips your flesh. Une bouche pleine de dents horribles qui déchire votre chair.
This dwarf doesn't have any obvious headware, but his hands are lined with artfully designed induction pads.

He looks up from his place in the noodle line and gives you a nod.
Line starts back there.

{{GM}}He gestures toward the back of the line.{{/GM}}

Better take your place now if you wanna get in on this. The food court gets busy around this time of day.
{{GM}}Examine his guest badge.{{/GM}}
What's worth ordering from the vending machines?
I wanted to compliment you on your cyberhands - that's nice work.
Gotta run. Good talking to you.
It's a standard three-day pass hanging on a lanyard embroidered with the Shiawase logo.

The name on the badge is "GRIMSON."
{{GM}}He chuckles.{{/GM}}

Nothin'. But getting a bowl from the Noodle Extruder is a DeckCon tradition. You just do it, whether you want to or not.
But isn't the show catered? Why even bother with the vending machines?
So you stand in line... at a catered event... and *pay money* for worse food?
Tradition, like I said. The convention is under new management this year, and they're tryin' to go all upscale on us. We're tryin' to show that we don't need all of that.

Give me a cheap bowl of extruded noodles and I'm a happy man. I don't need an underpaid teenager in a clown suit to bring me clams and call me "sir."
Me, I'd dump the clams into the noodles. Or... wait, this is better, I'd dump the clams into the *vending machine.* It has to have an intake hopper somewhere, right?
{{GM}}His eyes narrow.{{/GM}}

Why...?
Because then it could make *clam noodles.* Shellfish in pasta form!

That would be amazing, right? They'd go with everything!
{{GM}}The dwarf turns to glare at you.{{/GM}}

Keep her away from the machine.
Hang on. Don't the show organizers own the vending machines, too?
Makes as much sense as anything else, I guess.
Yeah. And the irony isn't lost on me.

{{GM}}He lowers his voice.{{/GM}}

Political statements aside, I want my noodles. They're terrible, but they're the *right* kind of terrible, like synthetic cheese and vat-grown chicken. They're science-food, and I love them.
Sure it does. At the end of the day, we like what we like. Sometimes that means clams, and sometimes it means crappy extruded noodles.
For *this* show, and *this* crowd, it's all about these machines and the doughy ropes that they produce.

They're terrible, but they're the *right* kind of terrible, like synthetic cheese and vat-grown chicken. They're science-food, and we love them.
It's a tradition, like I said. The convention is under new management this year, and they're tryin' to go all upscale on us. We're tryin' to show that we don't need all of that.

Give me a cheap bowl of extruded noodles and I'm a happy man. I don't need an underpaid teenager in a clown suit to bring me clams and call me "sir."
Thanks. They're custom.

{{GM}}He lifts his right hand to the light. The honeycomb structure of the induction pad's circuitry glints under the smooth plastic of its surface.{{/GM}}

It's surprisingly hard to find induction pads that aren't hidden under synthetic skin.
Why wouldn't you want them to be hidden? Doesn't making them obvious kind of defeat the purpose?
They're a work of art. Who designed them for you?
They are a work of art. Who designed them for you?
I know a guy out Neo-Tokyo way. Works at one of Renraku's Chiba clinics.

I got him to make the things for me. Cost an arm and a leg - er, both arms and no legs, if you wanna get technical about it. But it was worth it.
Might defeat your purpose. Not mine, though.

I don't do a lot of sneakin' around, and I see cybernetic enhancements as a form of expression. There's nothing more boring than a beautiful piece of tech masquerading as a normal human hand.
{{GM}}He turns back toward the Noodle Extruder.{{/GM}}

Yeah. You, too.
You're back. Need something?
Ruger Super Warhawk (Smartlink)
Pistol: A modern revolver. Massive stopping power, but cannot use the Chain Shot or Double Tap abilities. Has a Smartlink for accuracy.
Acid Burst
Using Acid Burst Power
Tong's Sensory Carnival looks like a scene out of a b-grade slasher sim. The cloying scent of incense hangs thick and pungent in the air, emanating from the small shrine in the corner of the shop. Unfortunately, it does nothing to cover up the reek of death and clotted blood.

Despite the ragged remnants of Elder Tong littering the floor, the rest of the shop appears to be in good order - at least at first glance. Nothing is broken, tipped over, or otherwise ransacked.
As you're about to step further into the room, you glance at the ceiling and walls.

The blood from Tong's body isn't just confined to where his remains lie - drying blood is spread about the walls and ceiling as well.
Pain Resistance
Passive: Decreases any DMG the adept takes by 2. Active: Decreases DMG by a further 3 for 3 RNDS.
Resist Pain: Incoming DMG -5
After a quick scan of the data store, two message threads stand out: one about the locker room, and a second about the first-aid station.
{{GM}}Read the thread between maintenance and security.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read the note regarding the first aid station.{{/GM}}
Maintenance: Did you asses change the locker code again?
Security: Sure did. But only because your department forgot to do it.
Maintenance: I don't need your sass, I need the damn locker code.
Security: 2626. You're welcome.
Notice of Security Update:

Apparently those dicks over at maintenance have been tossing their crappy broken gear into the first-aid room. So I changed the door code. It's now 4990.
If they get pissed, just remember that it's a medical facility. The pricks'll be spewing up thanks the next time they hack someone's arm off with a loader or whatever.

Signed,
Vincent - Security Engineer
The terminal's screen is lit, and you can see that the station's unlocked. It seems someone logged into it and then left it unattended.
{{GM}}Read the open files.{{/GM}}
The files are a collection of research notes regarding a creature, simply referred to as the "subject," held within the containment chamber. After clicking through a few files, you manage to find a few choice bits.
{{GM}}Read on.{{/GM}}
It appears the researcher in charge of this project was tasked with destroying the creature's connection to what's vaguely called "Something Else." According to the notes, the creature's tie to the Else is through its aura. Experiments to sever the connection have thus far been unsuccessful, and have yielded unpredictable results.
One of the more productive experiments involved igniting a magical power under extreme heat to sever the connection via shock. It was ultimately ineffective, but the researcher highlights the ending result as significant. While the method failed, the aural influence of the Else retreated from the auras of all the metahumans in the vicinity.
Immediately afterward, all the researchers involved with the test felt different. Better. Their fears surrounding the project lessened, and they became more clearheaded. The effect has lasted and appears to be permanent.

Further investigation revealed that the reason for the Else's aural retreat was due to the superheated formula's astral reaction. Its explosion apparently ripped holes into the astral plane, cutting off influence from the aura of the Else.

The formula used to shock the creature's connection is attached to the notes.
{{GM}}Download the formula.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The file downloads directly to your PDA.{{/GM}}
Force 3 Toxic Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 3 Toxic Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
This bin is full of assorted chips, peripherals, and add-on modules for cyberdecks. They don't seem to be arranged in any coherent fashion, and are spread across the felt surface.
{{GM}}Search through the bin.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Leave the bin alone.{{/GM}}
You sift through the display case, searching for anything that might prove interesting.
Strangely, the bin seems to be missing parts. There's plenty of storage memory, active memory, and I/O handlers in the display case, but no MPCP or response increase chips - the more expensive parts.

Anyone trying to build a deck using only these parts would end up with a glorified commlink.
{{GM}}Racter gestures toward one of the other displays. A pair of small cyberdecks sit inside the locked case.{{/GM}}

Maybe Magpie took the chips when she left. Then again, if she did that, why did she leave completed decks behind?
{{GM}}Gobbet gestures toward one of the other displays. A pair of small cyberdecks sit inside the locked case.{{/GM}}

Maybe Magpie took the chips when she left. Then again, if she did that, why did she leave completed decks behind?
{{GM}}Duncan gestures toward one of the other displays. A pair of small cyberdecks sit inside the locked case.{{/GM}}

Maybe Magpie took the chips when she left. Then again, if she did that, why did she leave completed decks behind?
Given the relative expense and illegality of the parts you're not seeing in the bin, it could be that Magpie took the chips with her when she left. Someone also could have come inside after she was gone and stolen the chips. They would have to be a fairly knowledgeable decker to understand what to take, however.
{{GM}}Is0bel peers past you into the bin as you search.{{/GM}}

That's interesting. There's a lot of storage memory, I/O handlers, and active memory in this bin. I'm not seeing any MPCP hardware, response increase chips, or anything relating to the hot shit decking Magpie was supposed to be into. In fact, you couldn't even build a full deck with this. Without the MPCP, it'd just be a glorified commlink.
Well, if I had to guess, I'd say somebody's cleaned her out. MPCP, response increase, biofeedback filters and all that - they're easy to move, expensive, and highly illegal. All the rest of this crap is good, but it's nothing you couldn't pick up at any electronics shop.

You'd have to know what you're looking for, though. Only a good decker would know what they're seeing.
Could Magpie have taken them with her?
{{GM}}Is0bel gestures toward one of the other displays. A pair of small cyberdecks sit inside the locked case.{{/GM}}

I guess so, but if she did that, why would she leave the completed cyberdecks? No, I think this was theft.
Unfortunately, the jumble of chips and hardware is too esoteric for you to make heads or tails of. Only a top notch decker would be able to understand the uses of the majority of this stuff.
Inside the Foreign Accounts file is a series of recent transactions. It looks pretty standard - several Tsang monetary deals with foreign partners and businesses. Some money incoming, some outgoing.
A closer look at the files, and a variance in the pattern appears. It seems a few of the deals are encoded to prevent them from appearing in the company's standard financial logs.

Interestingly, of the handful of encoded files, all contain records of deals established through bribery with some of Tsang's business partners.
Even more interesting is the chunk of clean nuyen that's attached to the data.
Knight Errant Captain
Ancient Shaman
Combines the best parts from the best armor.
The deck of the $(story.Global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName) is quiet. The boat feels much larger - and emptier - than it did a few hours ago.

There is no sound, save for the creaking of wooden planks and the distant sloshing of water against the side of the hull.
In the corners of the room, Gaichu and Racter regard you silently.

Finally, Racter opens his mouth to speak.
Don't let the quiet get to you, my friend. We won a great victory today.

An... unorthodox victory, to be sure. But a great one, nonetheless.
Damn right it was a victory. We're on easy street for the next fourteen years. That's forever in the shadows.
Doesn't feel much like a victory to me. You saw what happened back there.
Victory doesn't come into it... I did what had to be done. I only wish that the others had recognized that.
Oh, yes, my friend. Yes, it is. Far longer than the average life expectancy of a shadowrunner, in fact.

By taking Qian Ya's deal, you have ensured yourself a rich and successful life. Why, from this point on, you'll scarcely even need to try! Fate itself will conspire to pile victory upon victory onto your shoulders, whether you go to the effort of earning them or not!
{{GM}}The ghoul huffs.{{/GM}}

You describe a living hell. What is the appeal of a life without challenge? Without struggle?
I would argue that you *can* still challenge yourself, my friend. You can test the outer limits of this gift that you have won for yourself. See how far the reach of a demigod extends.
And once you've traced the outer edges of that largess, you can channel your good fortune into wonderful gifts for metahumanity as a whole.

Why, you can make the world a better place!
You sound just like Josephine Tsang.
Yeah, I suppose you're right on that count.
You couldn't care less about making the world a better place. You're just saying this to fuck with me.
{{GM}}He scoffs at you.{{/GM}}

Do I? I'm only stating the obvious. You have gained access to a precious resource; never mind how you obtained it, you must use it to do good. Surely this is a logical conclusion, is it not?
Personally, I would suggest that you take to wandering, $(l.name). Travel the length and breadth of this great island, visiting good fortune upon those who need it most.

You are masterless now, even as I am. You need not serve the likes of Kindly Cheng again.
Whatever you should choose to do, know that I will stand by your side. You have earned my trust, and my respect.

I will serve as your guardian, protector, and friend.
I'll consider your advice. Right now, my head is pounding.
I can't think about this right now. I just killed the closest thing I've ever had to a family.
You're right. I'm going to milk this gift of Qian Ya's for everything it's worth.
{{GM}}Racter yawns into his sleeve.{{/GM}}

With that, I'm afraid that I must be off to bed. I've mostly done away with the need for sleep, but I must confess that my human frailty is catching up with me.

You should do the same. You look bone tired, my friend.
You aren't wrong there. I guess could use about fourteen hours of rack time.
Sleep sounds good about now.
Maybe later. There are some people I want to check in on first.
Have at it, then. You've earned it.

Pleasant dreams.
Your call, my friend. Do what you will, and sleep well when you do.
{{GM}}Gaichu stretches. From under the overlapping plates of his armor, you can hear his joints pop.{{/GM}}

This has been quite a day, $(l.name). With your leave, I will spend the remainder of the evening in silent meditation.

You should rest as well. You look as tired as I've ever seen you.
Of course I am, my friend. Of course I am. The logic is unassailable.
{{GM}}He blinks, taken aback.{{/GM}}

You wound me, my friend! Of *course* I care about making the world better! I live in it, do I not? It is to my benefit to see life on this ball of rock improve.
...Of course, one might ask himself what the point of a life without struggle would be. Overcoming challenges is what brings life its sweetness, after all.
Yes. One might.
It is. And in that time, you could do incredible things with this gift.

The choice is yours to make.
Your friends... your family... were the ones who forced you to do what you did. They were the aggressors, not you.

The poor fools didn't see the enormity of the gift that you'd been offered. What it could mean to the world. And the death that you visited upon Edward Tsang was a gift as well. You protected him from an eternity of supernatural torment.
By taking Qian Ya's deal, you have ensured yourself a rich and successful life. Why, from this point on, you'll scarcely even need to try!

Fate itself will conspire to pile victory and victory onto your shoulders, whether you go to the effort of earning them or not.
The death that you visited upon Edward Tsang was a gift. You protected him from an eternity of supernatural torment.

The others let their passions drive them. They could not see what you did for the man, the *love* that you expressed through that simple act. I may be a ghoul, but they were the ones who were blind.
Feel sorry for Gobbet, and Is0bel, and Duncan if you must. But do not regret the choices you made. When they attacked, they forced your hand - you had to defend yourself.

They are dead now, yes. But for a greater purpose. You have been given a gift that could prove of great benefit to the world; you must now choose how you will use it.
It's true, they were the foolish ones. Your friends... your family... were the ones who forced you to do what you did.

They were the aggressors, not you.
The poor fools didn't see the enormity of the gift that you'd been offered. What it could mean to the world.

The death that you visited upon Edward Tsang was a gift as well. You protected him from an eternity of supernatural torment.
Yes. It is a pity that they forced your hand, but that was their decision to make. They enjoyed the luxury of choice, and they chose poorly.

You, on the other hand, had no choice. You did what you had to do.
Feel sorry for Gobbet, and Is0bel, and Duncan if you must. But do not regret the decisions you made.

In granting Edward Tsang a swift and merciful death, you protected him from an eternity of supernatural torment.
Our former companions are dead now, yes. But for a greater purpose.

You have been given a gift that could prove of great benefit to the world; you must now choose how you will use it.
In the corner of the room, Racter regards you silently.

Finally, he opens his mouth to speak.
In the corner of the room, Gaichu regards you silently.

Finally, he opens his mouth to speak.
The quiet is an enemy, $(l.name). It seeks to turn you against yourself. To transform victory into defeat.

Don't let it do that. This night, we have won. Perhaps not in the manner that I anticipated, but it was a victory nonetheless.
The scene on $(story.Global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName) is quiet, save for the sounds of eating. Raymond and your crew are crowded around Gobbet's electric hotplate. Her cast iron pot simmers on top and they hold bowls of soup in their hands. You recognize the smell: chicken-style soya broth, elbow macaroni, tinned "ham," and a heaping scoop of egg-flavored mycoprotein.

Raymond eats heartily. It may be the first meal he's had in days.
The scene on $(story.Global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName) is quiet, save for the sounds of eating. The crew is crowded around Gobbet's electric hotplate. Her cast iron pot simmers on top and they hold bowls of soup in their hands. You recognize the smell: chicken-style soya broth, elbow macaroni, tinned "ham," and a heaping scoop of egg-flavored mycoprotein.

The mood is somber.
I thought I said no team meetings without me.
You're eating?
I thought you were all going to bed.
We made an executive decision - we were hungry. Figured we'd hang out awhile.

{{GM}}She looks over her bowl at Duncan.{{/GM}}

Besides, no one could sleep anyway.
{{GM}}Gobbet shrugs.{{/GM}}

Couldn't remember the last time we ate, so we figured we'd hang out awhile.

{{GM}}She looks over her bowl at Duncan.{{/GM}}

Besides, no one could sleep anyway.
We figured we'd hang out awhile. No one could remember the last time we ate.

{{GM}}She looks over her bowl at Duncan.{{/GM}}

Besides, no one could sleep anyway.
Still pretty amped up. And I've got a lot to process.

{{GM}}Wu looks over at Raymond.{{/GM}}

So we've been talking. And eating.

{{GM}}He takes an enormous gulp of soup.{{/GM}}
She means me. I'm too fucked up to sleep. Trying not to think about Raymond.

{{GM}}Wu takes an enormous gulp of soup, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.{{/GM}}

They're just keeping me company - feeding me and pretending not to be tired.

Talking a bit.
Shouldn't you get some sleep, Raymond? You've been through hell.
Yeah, I'm still jacked up. Bed can wait.
Sure you're not afraid of going to sleep and having another nightmare?
I'm afraid I am s-still *in* hell, $(l.honorific) $(l.lastname). Like Duncan, I need time to p-process all that... has happened.

I have lived with a p-profound guilt for... twenty years.

Coming face-to-face with m-my... victims has made it all the more... acute.
I think you just need rest.
What's next for you, Raymond? Back to Seattle?
You're gonna need to forgive yourself if you're going to move on with your life.
No amount of rest will release me from this p-pain... this... responsibility.
No. My l-life is here now, I think. Helping the p-people of the Walled City... to recover. Finding a way to undo some of the damage I have done... w-with the Fortune Engine.

{{GM}}He shudders.{{/GM}}

And... *her.*
Forgive myself? Th-that will n-n-never happen. Never.

{{GM}}The old man stares into his soup.{{/GM}}

And I won't just m-move on while thousands continue to suffer... because of me.
{{GM}}Is0bel fishes a chunk of something out of her soup with her fingers. Flicks it to the floor.{{/GM}}

We've been debriefing a bit.
Yeah, talking about all that's gone on.

The runs, rescuing Raymond, the Walled City, the machine. It's hard to believe we did all that.
Yeah, talking about all that's gone on. Everything we've been through together.

{{GM}}She shuffles her feet a bit.{{/GM}}

Sorry about Raymond, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). You too, Duncan.

He was trying to do good with that machine. You two need to remember that.
His sacrifice showed great courage. Now, he will be slowly tortured for thousands of years.

{{GM}}Gaichu nods approvingly.{{/GM}}

I believe that will satisfy his debt.
I find his sacrifice fascinating. Edward Tsang will be slowly tortured for thousands of years.

{{GM}}The corners of Racter's mouth pull down and his eyebrows raise.{{/GM}}

I believe that will satisfy his debt.
{{GM}}Wu drops his head. His words come out slowly, as if they were being forcibly extracted.{{/GM}}

I... can't believe he did that. Gave himself to that demon.
I think he did what he came to do.
It was justice. He caused a lot of harm.
I wish he was here with us now.
I guess we did too, $(l.firstname).

We came to help Raymond... and he got what he wanted.
Justice?

{{GM}}He shakes his head, sips his soup thoughtfully.{{/GM}}

I don't know anything about justice anymore.
He did what he had to do.

{{GM}}He sips from his bowl thoughtfully.{{/GM}}

I guess we all did.
{{GM}}Is0bel stares over her bowl at the wall of the trawler. Her voice is soft.{{/GM}}

Hard to believe we defeated a god.
Demon-god.

{{GM}}Gobbet stirs her soup with her finger.{{/GM}}

From another plane of existence.
{{GM}}Gaichu does not eat. He stands sullen amid the group.{{/GM}}

I did not wish to defeat a god. I wanted to kill a god.

I must admit, I am... disappointed.
I think we did okay, Nibbles.
{{GM}}Racter sets his bowl down on Koschei. His eyes flash a cool blue.{{/GM}}

That machine - the Fortune Engine - was brilliant. I am deeply impressed by Mr. Black's work. It was genius. Truly inspired.
Love is the... the...the s-soul of genius. I was inspired by the p-potential to do good... on a g-grand scale.

{{GM}}Raymond shakes his head sadly.{{/GM}}

And by a quiet p-profound arrogance that... that...

I could do it.
Hard to believe that Josephine Tsang is going to remain untarnished by this whole thing.

{{GM}}The little decker's face hardens.{{/GM}}

Twenty years of misery. Twenty years of suffering.

For tens of thousands. Hundreds maybe.
That's the way it is. The way the world works.

The powerful play their games and the little people pay the price.
She'll see justice someday. She *has* to.

{{GM}}Wu stares into his soup, squinting in concentration.{{/GM}}

But... one thing doesn't add up for me. Why was Josephine Tsang so *intent* on shutting us down?
Why wouldn't she be? You saw what she was responsible for.
No, think about it. The HKPF snipers... the Plastic-Faced man... all of the resources that she poured into capturing Raymond and hunting us down.

I mean, she's already covered her tracks with that illegal drug lab explosion, right?

So why not just let Ray do his thing, then cover it up afterward? It doesn't add up.
She couldn't let anyone see Prosperity.
It had to be the Fortune Engine itself.
I don't care. It's over. We're done cleaning up Raymond's mess.
I b-believe that I have an answer.

I noticed it when I saw the... the Fortune Engine again f-for the first time. A m-module attached to the machine... one that I didn't design.
Module?
A siphon.

Mother was s-stealing it the whole time... the cast-off positive qi from the Walled City. Leaching it for her own benefit.

*That* is how Tsang Mechanical Services rose so quickly... from the m-minor company my father built... to the powerful c-corporation it is today. It's how she got herself on the Executive Council of Hong Kong.
She was creating her own luck.
Not creating. Stealing.

{{GM}}The hint of a smile crosses Raymond's weathered face.{{/GM}}

It will be... interesting to s-see what will happen to her company, now that the Fortune Engine is shut down.
Maybe we should send her some four-leafed clovers. She might need 'em.

{{GM}}Gobbet finishes her soup, lets out a little belch, and pats her stomach, satisfied. She tosses the bowl in the corner for Madness and Folly.{{/GM}}

So what now?
Yeah, I think you're right. From everything Raymond said, the qi was supposed to be pooling - turning toxic. But I felt something in that room... a flow of positive qi that I didn't expect.

{{GM}}Gobbet wrinkles her nose. She stares at the floor of the trawler for several seconds, apparently lost in thought.{{/GM}}

I think that it was leaving the Walled City.
I bet that machine did something else - something that Raymond didn't know about.

{{GM}}The little decker stirs her soup, pondering.{{/GM}}

What if it was a siphon?

What if Josephine Tsang was stealing the cast-off positive qi from the Walled City... leaching it for her own benefit?
{{GM}}Wu nods at Is0bel, runs with her train of thought.{{/GM}}

She sealed up the Fortune Engine, leached the good qi for herself, and took Tsang Mechanical Services from the minor company Ray's father built to the ball-buster it is today.

{{GM}}His jaw tightens.{{/GM}}

That's how she got herself on the Executive Council of Hong Kong.
...Of course, this is all speculation. Can't prove any of it. But if Josephine *was* using positive qi that the Fortune Engine was casting off, she isn't getting it any more.

Your foster-father saw to that.

{{GM}}Gobbet taps her spoon against the rim of her bowl.{{/GM}}

I wonder what'll happen to her. Guess we'll have to wait and see.
It's good to have unanswered questions, they keep life interesting.
I don't need that kind of interesting.
{{GM}}Gobbet finishes her soup, lets out a little belch, and pats her stomach, satisfied. She tosses the bowl in the corner for Madness and Folly.{{/GM}}

So, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)... what now?
Now bed.
Maybe watch a trid? Anything on?
I'm gonna walk around a bit. Stretch my legs.
Good plan for everybody. But especially you, $(l.firstname).

{{GM}}Wu winks at you.{{/GM}}

You look like shit.
There's always something on. But I say we bag it and get some sleep.

Especially you, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname).

{{GM}}Gobbet winks at you.{{/GM}}

You look like shit.
So I've heard.
Why does everybody tell me that?
Get used to it.
You should bag it soon, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). Get some sleep.

{{GM}}Gobbet winks at you.{{/GM}}

You look like shit.
No one's afraid and no one's keeping Gun Show company.

{{GM}}Is0bel fishes a chunk of something out of her soup with her fingers. Flicks it to the floor.{{/GM}}

I just thought we should stick together awhile - have some chow.

Debrief a bit.
Shiawase StreetWare™ Cowl
Breakthroughs in synthetic blend fabrics allow this fashion forward gear to provide ample protection from cuts, impacts, and burns.
Lucky Strike
A street samurai infused with tattooed circuitry. Skilled with blades, grenades and guns.
HMHVV Infected Arm
Force 5 Toxic Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 5 Toxic Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Cast Manabolt
Magic Attack
Adept's Combat Vest
Designed to protect adepts in heavy combat, allowing them to close on their target. Grants +1 Unarmed and +1 Willpower.
Plague Barrier Fetish
A re-usable shamanic fetish. Sets 4 Heavy Cover barriers that last 3 RNDS. Anyone that enters takes -14 HP and -1 AP DMG.
Defiance T-250
Shotgun: A top-of-the-line shotgun for those who like big damage.
Force 2 Toxic Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 2 Toxic Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
AK-97
Rifle: The most common assault rifle in the world.
Street Operative
A Secturetech brand ensemble for those who need to be jacked-in at a moment's notice.
Rock Fist
Giant fist of rock for crushing.
Vent 3 Blocker IC Code
c0rt3xFRZ
Cargo Carrier
Ballistic nylon street clothes offer a bit of protection, as well as many pockets to store tools and datasticks.
Flame
Flame.
Force 4 Toxic Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 4 Toxic Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Security Scheduling IC Code
ZH4NGf3i
The gate is locked, but the nearby control panel appears accessible. Carter pulls it open with a metallic screech that pierces your skull, sending a new wave of pain down to your churning stomach. La porte est verrouillée, mais le panneau de contrôle à proximité semble accessible. Carter l'ouvre dans un bruit de métal grinçant vous traversant les os, envoyant une nouvelle vague de douleurs au sein de votre estomac vacillant.
{{GM}}She examines the control panel for a moment, then throws Wu a backward glance.{{/GM}}

Looks like there's another way off the docks on the other side of this gate. I think that I can bypass the lock.		 {{GM}}Elle examine le panneau de contrôle pendant un moment, puis jette un regard à Wu.{{/GM}}

On dirait qu'il y a un autre moyen de sortir des quais de l'autre coté de cette porte. Je pense que je peux contourner le verrouillage.
{{CC}}Intelligence: 3{{/CC}} Let me take a crack at that. {{CC}}Intelligence: 3{{/CC}} Laisses moi me charger de ça.
{{GM}}Stand aside and let her work.{{/GM}} {{GM}}Rester à l'écart et la laisser faire son travail.{{/GM}}
Hang on, let's poke around a little first. Attends, nous allons fouiller un peu d'abord.
{{GM}}Carter steps aside to let you get at the panel.{{/GM}}

Enjoy.		 {{GM}}Carter s'écarte pour vous laisser accéder au panneau de contrôle.{{/GM}}

Amuses toi.
This is a civilian area, and security is light. You bypass the door circuit with ease.

The gate rattles open.		 C'est une zone civile, et la sécurité est réduite. Vous contournez le circuit de la porte avec facilité.

La porte cliquette, ouverte.
Carter fiddles with some wires and the door lock hisses open. Carter tripote quelques fils et la porte se déverrouille en sifflant.
Ready to get moving now? Prêt à bouger maintenant?
Red Samurai Mage
Basic hack attack, does 75 IP damage.
Force 1 Toxic Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 1 Toxic Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Bliss
A tranquilizing narcotic. Incoming DMG reduced by 4 for 5 RNDS of combat. Strength reduced by 1.
Bliss: Incoming DMG -4, Strength -1
BrightLight Flash
Temporarily overload a target's optic nerves.
Hyper EX
A local variant of the popular combat stim. Accuracy is increased by 5% and Movement by 2 for 5 RNDS of combat.
Hyper EX: Accuracy +5%, Movement +2
Armor Jacket
Available in a wide range of styles. Provides good protection discreetly. Grants +1 Strength and +5 HP.
Racter eyes you impassively. He wears an easy smile, but his eyes are as cold and unfeeling as Koschei's sensors.
Well, my friend. Quite an evening. We fought and treated with an extradimensional being, negotiated the fates of tens of thousands of paupers, and then traded them for more than a decade of good fortune.

A rather impressive list of accomplishments, wouldn't you say?
Well, my friend. Quite an evening. We fought and treated with an extradimensional being, prevented her from nesting in the Walled City, and shut down a machine that was twisting fate itself.

A rather impressive list of accomplishments, wouldn't you say?
I'll take it.
Somehow, I don't feel like celebrating.
Are you kidding? Please. This was just an average Friday night for me.
{{GM}}His teeth gleam white.{{/GM}}

Yes, my friend. Yes, of course you will.
So what's next for you, Racter?
Our struggle in the Walled City is over. Guess that means that you can focus other things, huh?
Why, I'll remain here in Heoi, of course. This place is perfect for my needs - I can easily acquire any materials that I might need, and with your help, I have acquired a certain level of proficiency at evading the police.

This will be the testbed for future of our species; the birthplace of a new form of life. And I will help to usher it into the world.
You know how that sounds, right?
I might just help you out with that if I'm still around.
And you know what I am. What I can do.

{{GM}}His smile widens.{{/GM}}

You will be here beside me when the time comes, yes?
Yeah, Racter. I'll be here.
Might be. You never know.
I won't try to stop you. That's as far as I'll go.
That depends on exactly what you're planning to do.
Good. Very good.

{{GM}}He nods, his pearl-white smile glinting in the dim light.{{/GM}}

Be well, my friend. And rest while you can... there is more looming on the horizon than you could possibly dream of.
None of us truly know anything. But I haven't frightened you off yet, and I take that as a good sign.

{{GM}}He nods, his pearl-white smile glinting in the dim light.{{/GM}}

Be well, my friend. And rest while you can... there is more looming on the horizon than you could possibly dream of.
Fair enough. Perhaps not the answer that I was hoping for, but so long as you don't stand in my way, there won't be a problem.

{{GM}}He nods, his pearl-white smile glinting in the dim light.{{/GM}}

Be well, my friend. And rest while you can... there is more looming on the horizon than you could possibly dream of.
And that remains an open question. I suppose that we'll just have to wait and for ourselves.

{{GM}}He cocks his head, grinning. Koschei mimics the motion.{{/GM}}

The anticipation will be invigorating.
In the interim, be well, my friend. And rest while you can.

There is more looming on the horizon than you could possibly dream of.
I would enjoy that, my friend.

{{GM}}His smile widens.{{/GM}}

And what do you think the likelihood of that is? Do you intend to stand beside me when the time comes?
Yes, my friend. The future. But our errand in the Walled City was quite enlightening, and I'm pleased that I was a part of it.

For myself, I think that I will stay in Heoi for a time. This place is perfect for my needs - I can easily acquire any materials that I might need, and with your help, I have acquired a certain level of proficiency at evading the police.
This will be the testbed for future of our species. The birthplace of a new form of life.

And I will help to usher it into the world.
I believe that I will remain here in Heoi for a time. My shop is well-equipped and convenient, and I can see no reason to uproot myself now.

Ushering in the future is a time consuming endeavor, as you have no doubt surmised. But it is my calling, and I am powerless to resist it.
Koschei scuttles out from under Racter's work desk. The machine's murderous limbs skitter and screech on the metal grates that line the floor.
{{GM}}Racter glances back toward his workshop. The automated tools that line the walls light up in response.{{/GM}}

And with that, my friend, I should really get back to my machines.

Our task in the Walled City may be over, but my work for the evening has only just begun.
Be well, my friend.

{{GM}}He nods, his pearl-white smile glinting in the dim light.{{/GM}}

And rest while you can... there is more looming on the horizon than you could possibly dream of.
Indeed. Ushering in the future is a time consuming endeavor, as you have no doubt surmised. But it is my calling, and I am powerless to resist it.
{{GM}}His teeth gleam white.{{/GM}}

No, my friend. No, of course you don't.
{{GM}}His teeth gleam white.{{/GM}}

Yes, my friend. Of course it was.
Well, my friend. Quite an evening.

{{GM}}He takes a drag on his cigarette.{{/GM}}

Quite an evening indeed.
That said, I am quite tired, and after a brief rest I should get back to my work. Koschei is bound to be in need of repairs, after all.

{{GM}}He turns his back on you.{{/GM}}

Do me a favor and see yourself out, won't you?
Yeah, Racter. Sure, I'll go.
That's it? That's all that you have to say?
Yes. Excellent. Thank you.

{{GM}}He dips his head.{{/GM}}

I bid you goodnight, my friend. My work for the evening has only just begun.
What more is there *to* say? We have done good work together, yes, but we aren't working now. And when I stand in this shop, my time is my own.

{{GM}}The industrial arms that hang from the ceiling spring to life, filling the air with the sound of whirring machinery.{{/GM}}

Again, I bid you goodnight. My work for the evening has only just begun.
Ah. My moralizing friend.

Be on your way, please. Koschei is agitated, and I must concentrate on my work. If you stay, I can't guarantee your safety.
I changed my mind, Racter. I want you back on the team.
All right. I'm going.
No, my friend, I think not. I've neglected my work for too long as it is.

Now please, go. And for your own sake, shut the door behind you.
Ah, my friend. You have done an admirable job... an admirable job indeed.

I have already incorporated the technology that you recovered - *my* stolen tech - into a new chassis that I'm fabricating for Koschei.
You move quick.
It wasn't that big a deal. We were going there anyway.
Yes, well.

{{GM}}He tips his cigarette. A cone of burning embers tumbles to the ground.{{/GM}}

I've been waiting for this for a long time.
The next time we take to the field, you can expect to find Koschei's combat effectiveness considerably improved.

He has become truly *deathless,* just as his namesake was in the legends. When he takes damage, he will mend himself before your eyes.
That sounds incredible. Can't wait to see it in action.
I'll believe it when I see it.
Nor can I, my friend.

{{GM}}He turns back to the whirring machines that fill his shop, watching their progress with hunger in his eyes.{{/GM}}

Nor can I.
And you will see it soon, my friend.

{{GM}}He turns back to the whirring machines that fill his shop, watching their progress with hunger in his eyes.{{/GM}}

Very soon.
You will be, my friend.

{{GM}}He tips his cigarette. A cone of burning embers tumbles to the ground.{{/GM}}

*Very* glad. Very glad indeed.
{{GM}}He tips his cigarette. A cone of burning embers tumbles to the ground.{{/GM}}

As you say.
My friend. There is something that I would like to discuss with you... something related to the Ares run that you recently accepted.
Thank you, my friend. You will not regret this decision - I guarantee it.
There are men - former colleagues of mine - at that facility. I tracked them here from Russia.

They are thieves. They stole my research, and I would very much like it back.
Serendipitously, I now find myself in the position to recover what's mine, and to visit justice upon the villains who stole it. But if I am to do that, I will need your help.

In short, my friend, I want - no, *need* - you to bring me along on this job.
Please, my friend, not now. We really must ready ourselves for the run on Ares Asia Holdings.

I cannot - and will not - rest until my research has been recovered. And I'm afraid that you will find me a poor conversationalist until my goals have been achieved.
It's oppressively hot down here, and the air is full of synthetic odors that grab you by the sinuses and refuse to let go. You can smell engine grease and melting plastic, ionized air and lead solder.

A quick scan of the room tells you why: the downstairs tenant has converted this space into a machine shop. Metal fabrication tools and duraplast extruders line the walls, and a pair of heavy industrial manipulators hang from the ceiling.
A man in a black trenchcoat stands with his back to you, staring at a monitor mounted above a sturdy work bench.

He addresses you without turning.
Ah. I was wondering when I'd meet the new neighbor.

{{GM}}His voice is pleasant. Cultured. There's a hint of a Russian accent there, but it's buried under layers of nuance.{{/GM}}
Please stay where you are... I'll be with you in just a moment. And unless you fancy an unplanned trip to Chrome Alley, don't touch anything.

There are all manner of tools in here that could take your hand clean off.
Take your time, I won't touch anything.
Thanks for the warning.
I know how to handle myself in a shop. I'll be fine.
Ah, you're very kind. Thank you.
{{GM}}Try to see what's on the screen.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Examine the robotic arms mounted to the ceiling.{{/GM}}
The feed on the monitor looks like some sort of design software.

You can see what appears to be a slim, spidery appendage in orthographic and perspective views.
Very good. Yes, that's coming along nicely.

Very nicely indeed.
{{GM}}He turns toward you, smiling, and for the first time you can see his face. He has broadly handsome Slavic features and a chiseled jaw. His eyes are like flecks of ice.{{/GM}}

So sorry to have kept you waiting, $(l.honorific)...?
$(s.name). It's no problem, don't worry about it.
$(s.lastname). $(s.firstname) $(s.lastname). Good to meet you.
Why don't you tell me yours first?
You're too kind. Now, tell me - what can I do for...

{{GM}}His voice trails off as a flash of motion catches his eye.{{/GM}}
With alarming speed, a sinister-looking drone scuttles out from under the work table. Its movements are surprisingly agile and fluid.

The machine rears back menacingly, spreading its forelegs in a clear sign of aggression.
{{GM}}The man's smile tilts, and his tone goes apologetic.{{/GM}}

Please, don't mind the drone. He can be... territorial. But so long as you remain civil, he will not bite.
{{GM}}He extends a hand. Simultaneously, the drone relaxes into a neutral position, lowering its killing legs.{{/GM}}

Racter. My mechanical counterpart here is called Koschei.
{{GM}}Shake his hand.{{/GM}} A pleasure.
{{GM}}Slap him five.{{/GM}} 'Sup, man.
{{GM}}Refuse to shake.{{/GM}} Good to meet you.
{{GM}}His hand is rough and abnormally warm to the touch. He shakes your hand with a solid grip.{{/GM}}

I am very pleased to meet you, my friend. In a community such as Heoi, it's important to be on good terms with one's neighbors.
Agreed. Speaking of which, I'd like to ask you some questions, if you have the time.
Absolutely. I don't have time to chat just now, but it was good to meet you.
{{GM}}He glances at the bracer on his forearm. A technical display winks to life, then gutters out.{{/GM}}

Very well. This morning's casting should still be cooling for a few minutes yet. That's time enough to talk.
When you said "this morning's casting," what did you mean?
"Koschei" is an interesting name for a drone.
Are you Russian? I thought I caught a hint of an accent there.
You've got some interesting machinery in here... not the kind that you typically see outside of corporate settings.
You said that you used to work for a corp. Whose payroll were you on?
Keeping all of this machinery running can't be cheap. How can you afford it?
You said that you did "other work" besides consulting. Care to tell me what kind?
Look, about your side work. You're a shadowrunner, aren't you?
Seems like everybody on this boat runs the shadows. Why not pool our resources and work together?
I have to get back upstairs.
Exactly what I said. A casting that I made of a new locomotive assembly for Koschei.

{{GM}}He gestures at the display above the work table.{{/GM}}

A biomimetic design, as you can see. This one is inspired by the walking legs of a decapod crustacean - the mangrove crab, to be specific.
You're designing drone parts in here?
That's fascinating. And will this new leg assembly make your drone more effective?
{{GM}}He nods.{{/GM}}

And fabricating them, yes.
How did you learn to do that?
Wouldn't it be simpler to outsource the fabrication?
More training and experience than I care to mention.

{{GM}}He offers you a wry smile.{{/GM}}

Drone architecture was once my profession, you see. Now it's more of a calling... one that I'm free to pursue, now that I've freed myself from the shackles of corporate servitude.
Simpler? Yes. But not better.

Here, I have ultimate control over the entire process, from start to finish. And I have the skills to make good use of that control... drone architecture was once my profession, you see.

Now that I have freed myself from the shackles of corporate servitude, I see little reason to rely on outsiders for much of anything.
That remains to be seen. But there is more to life than combat effectiveness, is there not?

By fabricating new components for Koschei, I unlock options. Different ways of being. Even the failures - and there have been many! - have value in this context.
How did you learn to do all of this?
Wouldn't it be simpler to design the parts here and outsource the fabrication?
Yes, I suppose that it is. Not many riggers would name their most prized possession after a villain from a fairy tale.

A nod to my heritage, I suppose.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Academic{{/CC}} Yes, I know the story you're talking about.
What was the fairy tale about?
{{GM}}His smile widens.{{/GM}}

Oh? How marvelous!

I hadn't thought to meet anyone versed in the Russian classics here in Heoi.
I've studied. If memory serves, Koschei the Deathless was an immortal villain and a kidnapper of women.
{{GM}}He nods.{{/GM}}

Indeed, he was those things. But it was not Koschei's misdeeds that drew me to the name.
I suppose that it was the notion of immortality through cleverness that resonated with me. There was something to be learned from that, I was sure.

And so, when it came time to name my beloved creation, his was the first name that came to mind.
A thoroughly unpleasant person.

Koschei the Deathless, he was called, and for good reason. His soul was cleverly hidden outside of his body, and he could not be killed so long as it remained intact.
Koschei was a villain, and a notorious kidnapper of women, but something about him always stuck with me.

I suppose that it was the notion of immortality through cleverness that resonated. There was something to be learned from that, I was sure. And so, when it came time to name my beloved creation, his was the first name that came to mind.
And is your drone "deathless," like its namesake?
In a manner of speaking, I suppose that he is.

I have redundant copies of every piece of his architecture, and his core programming is stored on disc in a secret location. Should he ever suffer critical damage, I can easily bring him back.
I had a plan, once, to automate the self-repair process... I must confess, it was really quite ingenious. But alas, my research was lost.

One day, I will reclaim it, and Koschei will become as deathless as the stories claim. But it will not be today.
{{GM}}He nods.{{/GM}}

You have a good ear, I'm impressed. Yes, I grew up in Nizhny Novgorod... went to school there, started my career there in the industrial sector. A fairly common story, I'm sure.

But I have also traveled a great deal, and in so doing, I have absorbed a number of other languages and dialects.
How many languages do you speak?
If you were born and raised in Russia, what brings you to Hong Kong now?
Well, you've done a good job of dropping your original accent. Are you trying to distance yourself from your homeland?
Counting Russian and Cantonese? Fifteen.

{{GM}}He shrugs apologetically.{{/GM}}

...It shames me to admit that I'm only literate in twelve, however.
That's still impressive.
You're either way too hard on yourself, or acting ashamed to cover up the fact that you're bragging.
Why bother learning all of that organically? With the right knowsofts, you could speak as many languages as you like.
Perhaps, when compared to the common man. But I've known a great many polyglots who can - and do - put me to shame.

{{GM}}He gives you another half shrug, and Koschei mirrors the gesture.{{/GM}}

Arabic has been a particular bugbear of mine - the unfamiliar characters and lack of vowels make it damned tricky to get a handle on. But I suppose that all men have their limits.
{{GM}}His brow furrows. Koschei takes a step forward.{{/GM}}

I assure you, I am not bragging.

In truth, I've never much cared what anyone else thought of my abilities or accomplishments - I am quite self-sufficient in that regard.
If I tell you that I feel ashamed, it is because I do. When knowledge eludes me, I take it poorly.

{{GM}}His shoulders relax, and Koschei adopts the same posture.{{/GM}}

The curse of perfectionism, I suppose.
Very true. But I can be an obstinate man - when I set my mind to something, I cannot rest until it is achieved.

I determined when I was very young to hammer languages into this complicated lump of meat that we call a brain. And so, while the use of knowsofts could easily accomplish the same ends with a lot less work, I've committed myself to learning the old-fashioned way.
The same thing that attracts many to the Free Enterprise Zone. Opportunity.

You yourself are a recent transplant, are you not? Your Cantonese is heavily accented in the style of many UCAS expats. That isn't a criticism, mind you... it's just a statement of fact.
Yeah, I'm new here. Not by choice.
You're right, I'm originally from Seattle.
I grew up running the streets of the Redmond Barrens. Every day out of that place is a good one.
Then I am sorry for you. But not overly sorry; there are a great many places in this world that would be far worse to wind up in.

If you have to be marooned somewhere, you're lucky to be in Hong Kong. Trust me on that, my friend - I have traveled broadly enough to know.
I figured as much. You're lucky to have lived in such a great city.

One day, after my business in Hong Kong has concluded, I would like to travel there myself, and to visit its Renraku Arcology. I have heard many impressive things about the SCIRE; the automated systems that it employs are rumored to be quite impressive. I should like to study them someday.
You have my condolences. I have heard of the Barrens, and the gangs that rule the streets there.

I'm afraid that our own Walled City might have you beat in terms of gang activity and overcrowding, but this isn't a competition. Both environments are deplorable, especially as stomping grounds for a young child.
No. Not at all. This is just the way that I speak.

{{GM}}He raises an eyebrow.{{/GM}}

Would it make you more comfortable if I used the word "da" more often? Referred to you as "comrade," perhaps?
That won't be necessary. I was just making an observation.
It wouldn't hurt.
A fair one. It is true that my travels and experiences have changed me, as I'm sure that yours have changed you.

Do not take my failure to match your preconceptions as evidence that I've abandoned my heritage, my friend. We are all the products of our experiences, after all.
{{GM}}His smile thins.{{/GM}}

I'm afraid that I will have to disappoint you, then. I am not a caricature or a cartoon. I am a man who happens to have grown up in the Russian Republic.

If you cannot grasp the distinction, then I pity you. But I won't change myself for your sake.
{{GM}}He smiles.{{/GM}}

The same could be said of many in Heoi, I'm sure. This *is* a smugglers' den, is it not? Our entire economy is based on people having things that they shouldn't.

Is there a particular device that interests you, out of curiosity...?
The robotic arms that you've got over there. They look like something taken from an automotive assembly plant.
I'm mostly interested in that drone you have there.
{{GM}}His smile flashes brilliantly in the light.{{/GM}}

Good guess! That's precisely what they are.

They... "fell off a boat," you might say. They weren't cheap, but I acquired them and had them mounted to the walls of my shop - I simply had to have them.
The return on investment has been dramatic. Yes, they're cruder by far than the waldo devices that I used in my professional life, but they still do the job and they are *mine.*

{{GM}}He gazes lovingly at the industrial arms, still smiling.{{/GM}}

They have increased my fabrication capabilities nearly tenfold. And that, to me, is worth any price.
Koschei? Ah, but my friend, you are wrong... you will never find his like in any corporate factory or lab.

He is mine. My own creation, from the top of his sensor cluster to the tips of his claws. I designed him, fabricated his components, and built him by hand.
Impressive.
{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

No more so than anyone else who follows his passions and perfects his craft.
{{GM}}He sighs.{{/GM}}

That is something of a sore subject. My departure was involuntary, you see... I did not part ways with my employer under the best of terms.

I will tell you that I worked for Grishin-Aviakor, but you'll forgive me if I don't want to go into detail.
Freelance. At the risk of sounding immodest, I've commodified myself rather well.

There are always corporations in need of design consultations - you'd be surprised by how lucrative such work can be. And there is always... other work that I can turn to in a pinch.
{{GM}}He pauses, and for a second something flashes in his eye. Koschei lowers its body into a crouch.{{/GM}}

A rather... personal question, wouldn't you say?
Maybe. But then, we're having a personal conversation.
Sorry. I didn't mean to pry.
Indeed we are. But even in personal conversations, certain topics can be held off limits.

Truth be told, I don't feel especially comfortable discussing my side work with relative strangers. Suffice it to say that my freelance activities often fall on the illicit end of the spectrum.
Tell you what, I'm just going to guess. You're a shadowrunner, aren't you?
It's okay, I'll drop the subject. Maybe we can come back to it later.
{{GM}}He gives you a shallow nod.{{/GM}}

I dislike the term, but yes. I run the shadows.

What gave me away?
Your drone. People on the up-and-up don't build murder-bots for fun.
Nothing in particular. I just get that feeling.
Design consultants live in apartments in Victoria Harbour. You're living in a rusted-out boat in Heoi. There's gotta be a reason for that.
{{GM}}He shakes his head slightly, a sad look on his face.{{/GM}}

Such a reductive assessment. I assure you, you're selling my little counterpart quite short.

Koschei *is* combat-capable - very much so - but that is far from his only purpose.
Koschei scuttles forward, its glowing red eyes low to the ground. Light glints off of the metal of its armored chassis.

Racter runs a hand over the drone's killing legs, caressing the sculpted metal with his fingertips.
That being said, I cannot deny that Koschei's aptitude for butchery is important to my work.

Should you ever get the opportunity to see him in action, you will understand why.
{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

Interesting. Well, your intuition is correct, as I said. Now I'm going to use mine: you're a shadowrunner as well, but you're new to the profession.

Am I correct?
Yes, on all counts.
Shadowrunning? Me? Never.
I earn my living in the shadows. I suspect that everyone on this boat does. If we were suited for a more pedestrian line of work, we wouldn't be in Heoi.

At the risk of sounding immodest, Koschei's aptitude for butchery is quite impressive. He earns me all that I need and more.
{{GM}}He wags his finger at you.{{/GM}}

Come now. There's no sense in obfuscating the truth. We're neighbors, after all.
{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

You are correct, of course. The residents of shadow communities are usually either too poor to live elsewhere, or engage in behaviors too illicit to risk it.

I will admit to being in the latter camp.
Designing robotics is my passion, but it doesn't always pay the bills.

{{GM}}He runs a hand over Koschei's armored chassis, caressing the sculpted metal with his fingertips.{{/GM}}

My status as a foreigner has proven something of an impediment in this regard.
And so, sorry as I may be to say it, the lion's share of my income flows from Koschei's aptitude for butchery.

Such is life, I suppose. We do what we must to do what we love.
Perhaps.

{{GM}}He glances at the display on his bracer again.{{/GM}}

...Now, will there be anything else?
No, it's all right. After all, it was my throwaway comment that led you down this path... I cannot fault you for following it.
Truth be told, I don't feel especially comfortable discussing my side work with relative strangers.

Suffice it to say that my freelance activities often fall on the illicit end of the spectrum.
{{GM}}He purses his lips, considering.{{/GM}}

A compelling offer. I'm doing quite well on my own, but I must admit that there are certain jobs for which I am unsuited.
Magic eludes me, and I'm not a decker. My strength comes from material objects in the real world - solid things with mass and heft, things that I can build and operate.

Sadly, a great many clients are only interested in teams that display a mastery over the intangible.
This group of yours... do you have people who can cover those bases?

If so, then perhaps we can help each other out.
How can you not already know that? You live right beneath our feet.
Yes. We have a shaman and a decker, both competent at their jobs.
Yep. We've also got a former security expert... I guess that's the best way to describe Duncan.
Have you ever rented a coffin apartment in a big city? Did you know all of your neighbors by name? My situation here is much the same.

I keep to myself, and your friends don't come down to the engine room. The only real connection we share is that we all live in this wreck by Kindly Cheng's largess.
Obviously, there were things that I could intuit about your friends from my time here. I'd guessed that they were shadowrunners... their behavior fits the profile. But we haven't had any real contact with one another until now.

So I'll ask you again: does your team makeup cover the bases that I described?
In that case, I will accept your offer on a provisional basis.

We'll do a few runs together and see how we get on. If our association bears fruit, it will continue. If not, I will bid you my farewell and go back to working alone.

How does that sound?
Welcome aboard.
Very good. Excellent.

When you receive a job, you know where to find me. My skills and resources are at your disposal.
...And with that, I'm afraid that I must bid you good day.

I still have work to do down here - this leg assembly won't clean itself.
I'll be in touch. Looking forward to working with you.
And I with you.
Very well. Come back any time - it's pleasant to have someone to talk to.
Very good. I should focus my attention on this morning's casting anyway.

{{GM}}He waves you off.{{/GM}}

A pleasure meeting you, at any rate. I'll let you be on your way.
{{GM}}Your hand smacks into his with a hearty thwack. If he's taken aback, he doesn't show it.{{/GM}}

Yes. Well. A pleasure. In a community such as Heoi, it's important to be on good terms with one's neighbors.
{{GM}}After an awkward moment, he withdraws his hand. If he's irritated, he doesn't show it.{{/GM}}

I am very pleased to meet you, $(l.name). In a community such as Heoi, it's important to be on good terms with one's neighbors.
And you as well. Now, tell me - what can I do for...

{{GM}}His voice trails off as a flash of motion catches his eye.{{/GM}}
If you wish. I...

{{GM}}His voice trails off as a flash of motion catches his eye.{{/GM}}
You focus on the enormous manipulator arms that you saw earlier. They're bulky, industrial things, dented from years of heavy use.

Each arm has been fitted with at least a dozen different welders, soldering guns, extruders, and metal fabrication tools.

You've seen machinery like this in factories before, but they look terribly out of place in the $(story.global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName)'s cramped engine room.
Don't mention it. I have no interest in seeing anyone hurt in my shop, especially not my upstairs neighbor.
Perhaps I should mention that I also have a heavily militarized, semi-autonomous drone prowling the shop.

Please, keep your hands to yourself. As I said, I won't be a moment.
Welcome back, my friend.

What can I do for you?
Racter's shop is sweltering hot, even more so than it was the first time you stepped inside.

The whir of actuators accompanies the fine motions of the manipulator arms that hang from the ceiling; they are turning an object over and over in their articulated hands, soldering wires and hammering rivets.
Ah, my friend. Welcome back.

{{GM}}Racter touch-types a series of commands into his bracer, and the arms relax into an idle posture. He smiles at you, a cigarette dangling from his lip.{{/GM}}

There, that's better. Now, what can I do for you?
How're you getting along with the other members of the team?
You're still something of a mystery to the group, Racter. Mind if I ask you a few questions?
I've got a few more questions for you, if you don't mind.
What can you tell me about the colleagues who stole your work?
This stolen research means more to you than money, doesn't it?
I've gotta run.
Perfectly well, thank you. They all seem competent enough, and there haven't been any major personality conflicts so far.

{{GM}}He rubs his chin thoughtfully.{{/GM}}

So long as they continue performing to an acceptable standard, I can see no reason not to continue our arrangement. It's good to run with a team again.
Sure, all right, but what do you think of them personally?
If anything changes, let me know. It's important that the team's morale stays high.
Very good. I'm glad to hear it.
They are fine, I suppose. All fine.

Gobbet is quite charming, Is0bel keeps to herself, and Duncan is doing his best in a bad situation.
Gaichu is quite intriguing. I'm very pleased that the team is willing to overlook his unfortunate condition; many in the shadows wouldn't be.

{{GM}}There is a momentary pause. He shrugs.{{/GM}}

...And that, I'm afraid, is all that I have to say. Apologies if you were looking for more.
{{GM}}There is a momentary pause. He shrugs.{{/GM}}

...And that, I'm afraid, is all that I have to say. Apologies if you were looking for more.
{{GM}}He raises a finger.{{/GM}}

You don't manage morale, my friend. You manage the team.

So long as we continue to succeed, morale will take care of itself.
All is well, my friend - I assure you of that.

Now, was there another matter that you wanted to discuss?
No, I don't mind. Not at all.

{{GM}}He takes a drag on his cigarette, then slowly releases the smoke.{{/GM}}

I can't promise that my answers will satisfy your curiosity, of course. But you may certainly ask.
What was it like growing up in the Russian Republic?
You mentioned that the second Euro War was sparked off by the "AfA." Who were they?
Did you emigrate directly from Russia to Hong Kong?
Why did you move from Russia to Berlin?
Tell me the story about what happened at Grishin-Aviakor.
Tumultuous, as you might expect.

You probably aren't old enough to remember the Euro Wars, but I am.
I'd like to hear about them.
I know bits and pieces of the history, but I didn't live through it.
Euro Wars? I'm drawing a blank.
My country was the instigator of the first Euro War back in '30. I remember the rhetoric, the hardships of living under a wartime economy, the rampant xenophobia that took hold.

I remember how we all cheered when our forces invaded Poland. Three months - that was all that it took for our military to crush what meager resistance the Poles could bring to bear. It was quite the source of national pride at home.
I remember our drive into Germany, and the desperate bid to reclaim the eastern portion of that country for ourselves.

Just think about the symbolic significance of such an act. An audacious move, to be sure, but Secretary Kropunin was determined to make history.
Yeah, in the same way that Stalin was.
"Audacious move"? You're talking about the overthrow of a sovereign nation, not a maneuver in a chess game.
So what happened? Did the German military stop you?
I believe that Kropunin was more concerned with the opinions of his own people than he was with his place in the history books. And in truth, I cannot fault him for this; for the four months that the war lasted, he *did* bring the country together.

But, alas, the Nightwraith Incident put an end to our march and sent our forces into full retreat.
Nightwraith?
Wait. There were ghosts there?
British-made fighter-bombers with stealth capabilities. Very state-of-the-art, very powerful.

...At least, that's what they were purported to have been. Nobody has ever come forward to accept responsibility for the attack.
Regardless of who was behind it, the result was the same. Wave upon wave of bombings that targeted our forces and the Germans alike, coupled with the assassinations of dozens of military leaders. A devastating, synchronized operation, expertly carried out over the course of a single night.

At home, viral attacks shut down our power grids. Hundreds of thousands of Russian homes found themselves without heat or electricity in the dead of winter.
Koschei scuttles forward, allowing the rigger to rest his hand on the sloping metal of its chassis. Racter stares at his own deformed reflection in the metal of the drone's body, a sad smile on his face.
I remember huddling under a mountain of cheap blankets that my mother had piled up on my bed. They did little to protect me from the cold, but they were something that I could hang onto. Something tangible that I associated with warmth, and comfort, and home.

There, as my body trembled and I watched my breath frost over, a horrible truth descended upon me. *We* had caused this. We were the villains of the first Euro War.
For the first time, I came face to face with what Kropunin's folly had bought us. And there, under that ridiculous heap of rags, I came to realize what would surely come to pass.

The world thought us villains, and so they would treat us like villains. We would be pariahs on the international stage, crippled by retributive sanctions. We would never live down the shame.
{{GM}}He wipes his hands, as if cleaning them. A wry smile spreads across his face.{{/GM}}

...And then the AfA invaded Greece and Spain, sparking off Euro War II.

We redeployed our troops to help repel them, and all was made right again.
That easy, huh?
I have to imagine that you still had enemies in Poland and Germany, even after the start of the second war.
Lucky for you they attacked.
About. Oh, we were still regarded with suspicion, of course. But Europe might have fallen if it hadn't been for our help.

In essence, we took back our reputation at gunpoint. Not an ideal solution, but it worked.
Within the span of four months, we Russians had gone from nobodies, to a terrible threat, to unlikely saviors in the eyes of the Western world.

Studying exactly how this happened has taught me a great deal about human psychology and social dynamics.
"Human psychology"? You say that as if you weren't one.
Well, at least you took something away from the experience.
{{GM}}He laughs.{{/GM}}

Just a figure of speech, my friend. Nothing more.

Now, shall we talk about something else? Surely there are more interesting - and relevant - things to discuss.
{{GM}}He flashes you a smile.{{/GM}}

Indeed. There are lessons everywhere, if only we stop to look for them. But I have gone on for too long about this already... I must be boring you.

Shall we talk about something else? Surely there are more interesting - and relevant - things to discuss.
Oh, we were still regarded with suspicion, of course. But all of Europe might have fallen if it hadn't been for our help.

In essence, we took back our reputation at gunpoint. Not an ideal solution, I admit... but it worked.
A fortuitous event, to be sure.

It feels strange saying that about a hostile invasion, but it certainly worked to our benefit.
{{GM}}He chuckles to himself.{{/GM}}

No, my friend. The British Aerospace Nightwraith is a fighter-bomber with stealth capabilities. These were the machines that rained fire on our troops... or were purported to have, at any rate.

Nobody has ever come forward to accept responsibility for the attack.
{{GM}}He nods.{{/GM}}

Yes, that's right. And the deaths of tens of thousands of people, and the destruction of the infrastructure and economy of nearly forty million others.

These are impressive numbers, yes? And they represent a tragedy on a grand scale. But nations at war seldom concern themselves with such things.
No. The Nightwraith Incident did.
Ah. Well, the wars were formative experiences for Russians of my generation.

Not traumatic, per se... certainly not as they were for the Germans, Finns, and Poles. But important, nonetheless.
{{GM}}He sighs.{{/GM}}

I suppose that I can't fault you for it. Not many people outside of Europe care to remember.

Suffice it to say that the Euro Wars were formative experiences for Russians of my generation. They weren't traumatic, per se... not as they were for the Germans, Finns, and Poles. But they were important, nonetheless.
{{GM}}He takes a drag on his cigarette.{{/GM}}

Ah. Yes, I suppose that you wouldn't know. They were only active for the years surrounding the conflict, after all.
The AfA was the Alliance for Allah, serving under Mullah Sayid Jazrir. A coalition of right-wing Middle Eastern governments that assembled after the failure - some say sabotage - of the United Islamic Conference.

They looked to a weakened Europe and saw an opportunity... one that my country was entirely responsible for creating.
And so they launched a surprise attack?
So the AfA invaded Europe, but Russia was really to blame.
That probably shouldn't have come as a surprise.
Yes, but in hindsight, we should have foreseen it. Ultimately, the AfA did what any hawkish power would have done in their position.

I cannot fault them for taking advantage of Europe's weakened state - given their circumstances, they would have been foolish not to.
So what happened? How did the war end?
Well, I take it you beat them. I mean, I haven't heard of the AfA before, so things can't have ended well for them.
The AfA folded in '37, after Jazrir's assassination. A lucky thing for us, too... the body count could have been a great deal higher.

In the years that they were active, the AfA gave us a hell of a fight.
No, my friend. They did not win. The AfA folded in '37, after Jazrir's assassination.

A lucky thing for us, too... the body count could have been a great deal higher. In the years that they were active, the AfA gave us a hell of a fight.
Yes. I cannot blame the AfA for acting as they did. Ultimately, they chose the same path that any hawkish power would have taken - given their circumstances, it would have been foolish of them not to.

My country, on the other hand, was guilty as sin. We were the ones who blazed the trail.
You're right, of course. We should have foreseen that weakening Europe's defenses would open the doors to outside aggression.

Ultimately, the AfA did what any hawkish power would have done in their position. Given their circumstances, they would have been foolish not to.
No. Between my years in Nizhny Novgorod and my time here in Heoi, I spent a year in the Free City of Berlin.

That was where I got my feet wet as a shadowrunner, you see. I ran with a team of anarchists for a time, and learned the ropes of the occupation under their tutelage.
Anarchists, huh? Must've been interesting.
What can you tell me about that team of yours?
You only started running a year ago?
{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

It was, to a point. They were disorganized, to be sure, but perfectly capable. We enjoyed a certain level of camaraderie while we ran together.

Sadly, we are no longer on the best of terms.
An opportunity arose, and I seized it. In so doing, I left Berlin for Hong Kong, and I did so without much advance notice.

My absence made life difficult for them, and they blamed me for their hardships.
You're a grown man. If you wanted to leave, you were under no obligation to stay.
{{GM}}Shrug.{{/GM}} You did what you had to do.
If you cut and ran on me, I'd be pissed at you, too.
Thank you for taking my side, but I can see their point as well. As I said, my departure caused some... complications for them.

That said, I haven't lost any sleep over it. I merely did what I had to do.
He looks away, a wistful expression on his face.

Koschei scrapes the ground with its forelegs, its sensors fixed firmly on you.
...Ultimately, I would say that my time in Berlin was quite educational. Different from my earlier life in Russia, to be sure.

As I said, the experience was invaluable. Ultimately, though, Heoi is probably better suited to my sensibilities.
Really? This place is a dump.
I know what you mean. I like it here, too.
Life in Hong Kong is more structured than it is in Berlin. Things make sense here in a way that the Flux State didn't.

{{GM}}He taps a finger to his temple.{{/GM}}

I have an orderly mind. Everything in its place, neatly labeled and filed away. This approach is what allows me to make sense of the world.

To say that the people I knew in Berlin thought differently would be an understatement.
Ah, but it is an *orderly* dump. Life is more structured in Heoi than it was in Berlin.

Things make sense here in a way that Berlin didn't.
{{GM}}He taps a finger to his temple.{{/GM}}

I have an orderly mind. Everything in its place, neatly labeled and filed away. This approach is what allows me to make sense of the world.

To say that the people I knew in Berlin thought differently would be an understatement.
A good thing, considering your present... situation. I get the impression that Duncan is less than thrilled to be stuck here.

Still, it is good to hear that our community suits you.
Yes, that's right. While my departure may have caused complications for my former teammates, it wasn't personal.

I haven't lost any sleep over my decision. In my position, any of them would have done the same.
That would be your prerogative. And while I suppose that I can see your point, I haven't lost any sleep over my decision.

I did what I had to do. How my former teammates chose to react to my sudden departure is their problem, not mine.
{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

A good group of people. Disorganized, to be sure, but capable.

Sadly, we are no longer on the best of terms.
About. I have spent the majority of my life as a legitimate roboticist, as I told you.

Thankfully, my teammates in Berlin were good teachers. We even enjoyed a certain degree of camaraderie toward the end.

{{GM}}He sighs.{{/GM}}

Sadly, we are no longer on the best of terms.
Why, I left Russia to hunt down the men who stole my research.

{{GM}}He pulls the cigarette from his mouth. Tips it toward you in salute.{{/GM}}

And, thanks to you, I have recovered it.
The data that we grabbed for you on the Ares run?
{{GM}}He nods.{{/GM}}

The very same. And now it is mine again... mine to implement, to improve upon, and, ultimately, to perfect.
Is there anything else that you can tell me about Taylor and Hardingham?
This research means more to you than money, doesn't it?
They're likely being apprehended, even as we speak. We *did* plant evidence that they colluded with the Red Dragons, after all.

{{GM}}A predatory smile spreads across his face.{{/GM}}

Corporate espionage carries heavy penalties, you know. Very heavy. They can look forward to spending the rest of their days in a black-site prison.
I know the kind. Nasty places.
Nobody deserves to rot in one of those holes forever.
They had it coming.
Not nasty enough for those two... but I suppose that it will have to do.
{{GM}}He snorts in derision.{{/GM}}

They brought it upon themselves. If they have brains in their heads, they'll spend the rest of their miserable lives thanking their captors for protecting them from me.
Yes, my friend. Yes, they did.
{{GM}}He nods his head.{{/GM}}

Oh, yes, my friend. Quite a lot more.

It is my life's work, and it is *important.*
{{GM}}He holds his tongue for a moment, considering.{{/GM}}

...When we first met, I told you that I parted ways with Grishin-Aviakor under unfortunate circumstances, yes?
You mentioned it.
Something like that, sure.
Did you? It's all kind of a blur.
These same circumstances led me to Berlin. I was wronged, and I would not find recourse in Russia.

{{GM}}He sighs.{{/GM}}

I suppose that there's no sense in being vague. I'll tell you the story if you want to hear it.
Please. Lay it on me.
Maybe later.
You may remember the self-repair system I mentioned the first time we met. The module that would allow Koschei - or any sufficiently equipped drone - to repair itself.

I told you that my research had been lost. That was not strictly true. It was stolen by a pair of colleagues who I had long considered friends.
They were researchers from my old lab. They turned against me, stole our work - in truth, *my* work - and defected.
Why would they do that?
They betrayed you, huh?
Desperation, and ambition. They had always been fixated on getting out of Russia. Grishin-Aviakor was a nationalized corporation, and they would never get rich as cogs in a government-controlled machine.

In our project, they saw their key to breaking away and earning their fortunes... never mind the fact that I was opposed to the idea.
Did you have any leads as to where they might have gone?
And so you followed them, I take it.
Yes. The two had long spoken about moving to Berlin. Such was true of a great many academics in Russia; my homeland is a bureaucratic dictatorship, you see. There is little personal freedom, and there are many rules to be followed.
As you might imagine, the stable anarchy of the Flux State can be an alluring concept to those who live under totalitarian rule.

Berlin is much romanticized back home.
So you assumed that your former colleagues had run to Berlin.
Makes sense. If you've spent your life tied up in bureaucracy, you could do worse than moving someplace with no rules.
It was the only thing that I had to go on. At best, I would find them; at worst, it would be a good place to rebuild my life.

And, of course, to establish the web of contacts that I'd need to track my betrayers down.
There is a squeal of tortured metal as Koschei drags its claws over the iron grating that covers the floor.

Racter glances down at the drone and it goes calm. He takes a deep breath and continues.
It took me over a year to locate my former friends. It was a long, painstaking search, but I was nothing if not determined.

I finally found evidence that they'd used my research as a bargaining chip to secure positions at Ares, and that they were here in Hong Kong.
And so you came here, to Heoi.
{{GM}}He nods.{{/GM}}

I picked up and left the next day. My old team was upset, to be sure - Lucky Strike in particular howled for my blood. But I know where my priorities lie.

And so, here I am. And here they are. And soon, I will be ready to act.
I really must thank you for inviting me into the team. Your abilities will be invaluable when the time finally comes to make my move.

Assuming, of course, that you'd be willing to help...?
Of course. When you're ready, just say the word.
Something tells me that you weren't surprised when I invited you onto the team. You were waiting for this, weren't you?
Thank you, my friend.

But this is a discussion for another day. We aren't ready to hit an Ares facility yet, and there is more intelligence to gather before we make our move anyway.

When the time comes, I will let you know.
I thought that it might go over better if you believed it to be your idea.

And it would seem that I was right. I am on the team, after all.
Yes, you are. And you're right - I, for one, would be happy to help you. When you're ready, just say the word.
That can still change.
Yes. Of course.

I will keep this to myself until I feel that we are ready for the job. If, at that point, you aren't interested in taking the job, then we'll reevaluate our situation.
Oh, the Flux State has rules, my friend... they aren't codified, but they most certainly exist. Should you ever travel there, you'll want to remember that.

But I digress. In the hunt for my traitorous colleagues, Berlin was my only lead. I decided that I would travel there; at best, I would find them, and at worst, it would be a good place to rebuild my life.
Yes. Driven by desperation, no doubt... and ambition.

They had always been fixated on getting out of Russia. Grishin-Aviakor was a nationalized corporation, and they would never get rich as cogs in a government-controlled machine.
In our project, they saw their key to breaking away and earning their fortunes... never mind the fact that I was opposed to the idea.

And so they took what was mine, and left me with nothing.
Very well. When you want to know, you need only ask.
Ah. Well, to clarify: I left my job at Grishin-Aviakor due to the loss of my life's work. These same circumstances led me to Berlin; I had been wronged, and I would not find recourse in Russia.

I will tell you the full story if you'd like to hear it.
{{GM}}He nods.{{/GM}}

Very well. I'll share the story if you're ready to hear it.
Of course. Ask what you will.
{{GM}}He raises an eyebrow.{{/GM}}

Go ahead and ask, my friend. I'm not stopping you.
Today, they call themselves "Taylor" and "Hardingham."

{{GM}}He speaks through clenched teeth. Koschei drags a claw across the ground, and you can hear the squeal of metal on metal.{{/GM}}

Those aren't their real names, obviously. They shed their former identities when they left their old lives behind.
What were they called when you worked with them back at Grishin-Aviakor?
And these two are in Hong Kong now?
It doesn't matter. Those men are as dead to me as they are to the world.

My old colleagues no longer exist. "Taylor" and "Hardingham" are all that remain. They are targets now - nothing more.
{{GM}}He idly brushes Koschei's armored chassis with the fingertips of his right hand.{{/GM}}

Oh, how wonderful it will be to find them. What a reunion we will have.
Yes. Working for Ares Asia Holdings, ensconced away in one of their enclaves here. I am not certain which one yet, but I'm narrowing it down.

{{GM}}He idly brushes Koschei's armored chassis with the fingertips of his right hand.{{/GM}}

Oh, how wonderful it will be to find them. What a reunion we will have.
{{GM}}He nods his head.{{/GM}}

Yes. Yes, much more. It was my life's work, and it was *important.*

Reducing it to a bargaining chip was a deadly insult, both to me and to all those who would benefit from my work.
It's just a self-repair system for a drone. How important can it be?
You say that with almost religious fervor.
I don't think I've seen you get this intense about anything.
Allow me to answer your question with a question. Are you familiar with the concept of transhumanism? The transformation of humanity as a species by technological means?
{{GM}}He snorts.{{/GM}}

Religious? No. Religious superstition is a relic of the past.

I welcome the *future*... a future that my research was intended to help usher in.
Tell me about this future that you predict.
"Superstition"? You live in boat with a pair of orks, one of whom uses magic on a regular basis.
Tell me. Are you familiar with the concept of transhumanism? The transformation of humanity as a species by technological means?
{{CC}}Etiquette: Academic{{/CC}} Huxley coined the term in the late 1950s, I believe.
Sure. If I'm not mistaken, we're already living in a transhumanist present.
No, sorry. Never heard the term before.
{{GM}}He nods.{{/GM}}

Yes, that's right. The seeds of the idea trace back even further, to the 1920s and J.B.S. Haldane. But it was Huxley who popularized it.

And now, the transhumanist vision has progressed beyond philosophy. It is fact.
Look around you. Cybernetics are a fact of everyday life. The synthesis of man and machine is the crowning achievement of metahumanity as a people.

I believe that we are well on our way to a truly *posthuman* future. One in which the synthesis of man and machine is perfected to the point that the terms become interchangeable.
In such a future, the capacity for unlimited self-repair would be indistinguishable from immortality.
If you really believe that, then I can see why recovering this was so important to you.
This all sounds a little far-fetched to me... no offense.
{{GM}}He chuckles softly.{{/GM}}

Yes, my friend. I will admit, my vision of the future may sound overly optimistic... but it is a future that I'm sure is coming, all the same.
{{GM}}He chuckles softly.{{/GM}}

None taken. I have long since grown accustomed to such responses.

I will admit, my vision of the future may sound overly optimistic. But it's a future that I'm sure is coming, all the same.
In such a future, the capacity for unlimited self-repair would be indistinguishable from immortality.

You can see, then, why the theft of my research came as such a blow. My former colleagues hadn't just stolen from *me.* They'd taken my contribution to the future of our species and reduced it to a bargaining chip.
Yeah, I get it. I'd be upset, too.
...So, when are you planning on killing them?
I was more than upset, my friend. I was livid. I still am.

But all will be made right in the fullness of time. I am nothing if not a patient man... I can wait.
{{GM}}He rises. Brushes himself off.{{/GM}}

...And with that, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to bid you good night. I've taken enough of a break for one evening; there is still work to be done, and it would be lax of me to put it aside any longer.
Say no more. I'll see myself out.
Thanks, Racter. It was interesting.
All right, good luck with that.
{{GM}}He nods at you.{{/GM}}

Good night.
Soon enough. I'm still narrowing down their location. Ares Asia Holdings has enclaves all over this island, and it wouldn't do to raid the wrong one.

All will be made right soon enough, though. I am nothing if not a patient man... I can wait.
Yes, that's right. Transhumanism is no longer a philosophy, it is a fact.

Look around you. Cybernetics are an important aspect of everyday life. Further, I would argue that the synthesis of man and machine is the crowning achievement of metahumanity as a people.
I'll go with you on that.
Cybertechnology is an impressive technological feat, but our crowning achievement? No.
{{GM}}He raises an eyebrow.{{/GM}}

And what would you suggest to be more important, more *impactful* to our species than the science of cybertechnology?
Art. Music. Literature. Those are the things that make life worth living.
Philosophy. Our understanding of the universe is more important than our ability to interface with machines.
{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

These are all fine things, of course. I wouldn't downplay the importance of any of them. But cybertechnology has fundamentally altered our people - indeed, our *species* - on a physiological level.

Can you name me a novel, or a painting, or a piece of music that can claim the same?
{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

Apples and oranges, my friend. Apples and oranges.
Ah. You should familiarize yourself with it, then... it's an old term, rooted in what was considered to be science fiction back when it was coined. But it also accurately describes the state of the Sixth World today.
The sciences of cybertechnology, biotechnology, and genomics have fundamentally altered the trajectory of metahumanity as a species.

Through the elective modification - and improvement - of our own physiology, we can tailor ourselves for niches that were previously inhospitable to metahuman life.
By exerting our will over the composition of our own bodies, we have conquered the mindless trial and error of biological evolution.

For the first time in history, there is a God, and He is us.
Okay, got it. We're living in a transhuman world. So where were you going with this?
You're laying it on a little thick, there, comrade.
Am I? Apologies if my fervor has made you uncomfortable.

I feel rather passionately about this subject, you understand. It is quite important to me.
{{GM}}He wags his finger at you.{{/GM}}

You're putting words in my mouth. I never dismissed magic as superstition. Magic is an observable, measurable phenomenon, as real as the laws of thermodynamics.

What I said was that religion, in the classical model, is rooted in superstition. I stand by that analysis.
Now, tell me, my friend... are you familiar with the concept of transhumanism? The transformation of humanity as a species by technological means?
{{GM}}The corner of his mouth tilts upward.{{/GM}}

I suppose that's probably true. This is a matter that's near to my heart. Indeed, it ties into the guiding philosophy of my life.
Be well, my friend. Come back any time.
Welcome back, my friend. What can I do for you?
The air in Racter's shop is ripe with the stench of old metalworking fluids.

He turns to face you, a burning cigarette clenched between his teeth.
Sorry about the smell - it's long past time to purge the coolant sump.

{{GM}}He frowns.{{/GM}}

If I had access to the proper equipment, this would not be a problem - I could clean the fluid and reuse it. But alas, halogen treatment chambers are rather hard to come by, even in a place like Heoi.
{{GM}}He shakes his head as if to clear it.{{/GM}}

Anyway, my friend. You didn't come here to discuss the ins and outs of shop maintenance, I'm sure.

So, what does bring you here?
I've been thinking about what we talked about last time. Mind if I ask you a few questions?
I have some more questions for you, if you don't mind.
So, in this posthuman future that you're trying to bring about, what role would a drone like Koschei play?
You're pretty attached to that drone of yours, aren't you? You've even assigned it a gender - you keep calling it "him."
I have to go. Maybe we could continue this another time?
{{GM}}He tilts his head in acquiescence.{{/GM}}

Be my guest. I have no secrets to keep.
About the drone self-repair system that you invented. How did it work?
What do you think that a posthuman future would mean?
There's a hard limit to the fusion of man and machine. Doesn't your vision of the future require us to get past that?
Mind if I ask you about something else?
There were three distinct elements to my approach. When these elements were all working in concert, prototypes that utilized the process displayed remarkable self-repair capabilities.

This may be a... lengthy explanation. I can skim over it if you please, or I can break it down for you if you're genuinely interested.
Give me the long version. I want to know how this process of yours works.
Give it to me in bold strokes. I don't need the nuts and bolts, I just want the basics.
Actually, I've changed my mind - it isn't really necessary for me to know how the process works. I'll just trust that it does.
{{GM}}He shifts his cigarette to the corner of his mouth.{{/GM}}

Very well. The long version it is.
The first element of my process was an outer skin that the drone could be wrapped in. A refinement of older biomimetic self-healing materials, modeled to emulate the self-repair capabilities of living beings.

Imagine a polymer composite interlaced with microtubules - capillaries, if you will. These vessels are capable of delivering bonding agents to the site of a wound as it occurs, thus "healing" it.
I've heard of smart materials that operate on a similar principle. They've been around for decades, haven't they?
Interesting. Go on.
Yes, though they remained uncommon until recently.

As I said, my material was a refinement on those earlier designs. It was also only the first part of a system... the synergy between the three was what made the project work.
The second element involved the underlying structure of the drone's architecture - the servos, gears, circuits, et cetera.

Utilizing self-assembling materials and redundant systems, I created a system by which damaged components could be fabricated and replaced by the drone itself, without any need for human interference.
All right, so you have self-healing skin and a self-replacing underlying structure. What was the third part?
Finally, the system had a magical component.

{{GM}}The corner of his mouth dips downward.{{/GM}}

...I must confess a certain degree of ignorance when it comes to this portion of the project. I understand some of the theory behind what was done, but the specifics are beyond me.
Tell me what you do know, then.
I'm surprised. I thought that this was your process, through and through.
In layman's terms, a magical element was necessary to render the system self-perpetuating.

Obviously, no purely mechanical system can repair itself indefinitely. The synthetic skin becomes more brittle with every wound that it heals, and the automated assembly components will eventually run out of materials to work with.

As a rule, fighting against entropy is a losing proposition.
But with magic, we can rewrite the rules, weaken the grasp of those entropic forces to the point that they are rendered negligible.

Think of magic as the lubrication that keeps the gears turning. I wish that it weren't necessary, but I am also a realist, and I must confess that it is required for the system to work.
And this is the technology that we recovered on the Ares run?
And this package of systems is what your former colleagues stole from you - what you need to get back?
Yes. That's right.

My thanks to you again, my friend. I am in your eternal debt.
Yes. Given enough time and resources, I might be able to recreate the first two components of the system on my own.

But the magical component is - and will forever be - completely beyond me.
That is why it's so important that we recover my research, and the prototype that was stolen.

And we *will* recover them. Of that, I have no doubt.
Oh, it is... I was the one who recognized the need for a magical component. But I feel no shame in admitting that I cannot understand the specifics.

I have a mind for figures, and physics, and the natural world. Magic works according to a different set of principles altogether. Truth be told, it makes my head hurt.
Okay. So why did you need this third component? You said that it was your idea.
Yes, fine. I'll give you the short version.

The first element of the process was a self-healing biomimetic skin. It was capable of self-repairing any superficial wounds that a drone might suffer... injuries that hadn't damaged the machine's underlying structure.

The second element was an internal structure built from self-assembling materials, and utilizing redundant systems. Any damage that the skin could not heal could be repaired or replaced.
The third and final element was a magical component that served to stave off entropy and render the first two systems self-perpetuating.

{{GM}}He frowns.{{/GM}}

You can think of magic as the lubrication that kept the gears turning. An unfortunate, but necessary concession.
If that is what you'd prefer... it doesn't bother me either way. Just know that it is important to me that we recover my research, and the prototype that was stolen.

{{GM}}He claps you on the shoulder.{{/GM}}

And we *will* recover them, my friend. Of that, I have no doubt.
Freedom.

{{GM}}He takes a long drag on his cigarette, sucking the smoke deep into his lungs. When he speaks, it erupts from his mouth in a plume.{{/GM}}

The ultimate freedom to direct our own progress, and to steer ourselves as a people in whatever direction we wish.
Consider, my friend: every aspect of Koschei was tailor-made for a purpose. Dreamed up, designed, and built by a singular guiding intellect.
All right. Keep going.
Yeah, I get it. You made your own drone.
You sound awfully proud of yourself.
Now think of the circumstances surrounding your own birth, and the building blocks that shaped you into the $(l.man) you are today.

Your mother and father exchanged fluids - sloppily, no doubt, and with all the mindless abandon that such biological imperatives entail.
Whoa, man. You leave my parents out of this.
That might have been the ugliest description of sex I've ever heard.
I don't even want to think about that.
{{GM}}He raises both hands in a placating gesture.{{/GM}}

Just an example, my friend, just an example. Substitute in *my* parents instead - or any other pairing that you choose to imagine - if it makes you more comfortable.
The *important* thing is that the forces that shaped you - and me, and the others upstairs, and anyone else you could care to mention - were ultimately mindless ones. Blind, manipulative biological drives that led a sperm and an egg to collide.

Add in a roll of the dice and a dash of Mendelian genetics, and here you are.
The natural processes of evolution and sexual selection guide the development of our species through trial and error. Throw a few billion darts at the wall and see what sticks.

In the future that I foresee, this process will be reined in. Guided by our own controlling intellects. To co-opt an antiquated phrase, the myth of "intelligent design" will become a reality, but we will be our own gods, reshaping ourselves as we see fit.
Tell me again: what does this have to do with posthumanism?
Biological evolution is full of choice, Racter. We choose who we mate with. That choice helps to determine the traits that our offspring will inherit.
Lemme get this straight. You're a scientist - possibly mad - who is literally telling me that he wants to play God. How clichéd is that?
Step back for a moment and imagine a future in which we have fully integrated with machines. Really *imagine* it.

There will be no niche that we cannot fill. We can guide our own evolution, tailor ourselves to whatever environment we see fit. We will no longer be slaves to the selective processes that have dictated our development since time immemorial.
So essentially, you want us all to be... what? Robots?
Let's say that you're right. At what point do we cease being human, and become something else instead?
No. I suspect that there must always be some biological component to metahuman life. A degree of randomness, the possibility of mutation... these are good things, and even if we could shed them entirely, I suspect that we shouldn't.
What I desire is a truer fusion of man and machine.

{{GM}}His eyes flit to Koschei. The drone takes a step forward in response.{{/GM}}

Modern cybernetic systems tend to be iterations on the biological components that they replace. There are exceptions, of course - there is no analog for the datajack in nature. But on the whole, our imagination has been depressingly limited in this regard.
In the future that I foresee, we will abandon this restrictive mentality and open our eyes to newer, more exciting possibilities.

Bodies reshaped to thrive in the deep ocean and the depths of space. Bodies inspired by nature, or the human imagination, or both.

Bodies that can be used, and shed, and used again, inhabited as their wearers see fit.
The timely realization of such a future is what drives me forward. It is the cause to which I have devoted my life. And, thankfully, it is inevitable.

{{GM}}He tips his cigarette, sending ash spilling down onto the metal floor.{{/GM}}

...Assuming, of course, that we don't destroy ourselves first.
{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

Whenever we choose to define ourselves in that way. "Humanity" is an intrinsically human concept.

If we decide to rebrand ourselves as a different species, that is our decision to make. I strongly suspect that nobody else would care.
There are other forms of intelligent life out there, Racter. Dragons, for example. They might care.
So tell me. What *do* you want? What's the endgame that you envision for us in this grand posthuman future?
Perhaps. But for the sake of our continued development, that's a risk that I am willing to take.

We cannot limit ourselves out of fear of what others might think.
Koschei raises itself up on its legs, stretching so that Racter can caress its chassis. The motion is alarmingly fluid, more like a living thing than a machine.

Racter traces his fingertips over the drone's shell, his eyes focused on an imaginary point on the horizon.
We have placed such unnecessary limitations on ourselves, my friend. It fills my heart with sorrow to know what we could be, but are not.

I would see those limits stripped away. Peeled back and discarded, for the betterment of all.
In the future that I foresee, we will open our eyes to the possibilities that surround us.

Bodies reshaped to thrive in the deep ocean and the depths of space. Bodies inspired by nature, or the human imagination, or both.

Bodies that can be used, and shed, and used again, inhabited as their wearers see fit.
Very true, but the pool of possible traits that biological reproduction can select for is small. If I wanted to produce offspring with gill slits instead of lungs, I'd be out of luck.

In a posthuman future, I would face no such limitations - nor would anybody. We would no longer be slaves to the selective processes that have dictated our development since time immemorial. We would truly become the masters of our own fate.
{{GM}}He sighs.{{/GM}}

Look around you, $(l.name). Everything *about* the world that we inhabit bears the stamp of metahuman tampering, from the food that we eat to the homes that we live in to the air we breathe.

"Playing God" is a meaningless term. We've been reshaping our environment since time immemorial. All that I'm advocating is a further refinement of the process.
Ugly, perhaps, but accurate. Sexual intercourse is an inarticulate process, a messy delivery mechanism for genetic material spurred on by hormones and base urges.

Any attempt to guide the process on a societal level gets branded "eugenics" and decried as monstrous, for obvious reasons.
But I digress. The point I was making was that the forces that shaped you - and me, and anyone else you care to mention - were ultimately mindless ones. Blind, manipulative biological drives that led a sperm and an egg to collide.

Add in a roll of the dice and a dash of Mendelian genetics, and here you are.
I see no shame in taking pride in my work.

{{GM}}Koschei steps forward, the tip of its leg digging into the metal grate that lines the shop floor.{{/GM}}

I believe that the fruits of my labor speak for themselves.
Now, getting back on track... think of the circumstances surrounding your own birth. The building blocks that shaped you into the living being that you are.

Your mother and father exchanged fluids - sloppily, no doubt, and with all the mindless abandon that such biological imperatives entail.
You're speaking of the essence limit, and the problems associated with essence loss.

{{GM}}He releases a plume of smoke from the corner of his mouth.{{/GM}}

Yes, of course, it will be a problem. But as with all problems, a workaround will present itself. Of this, I am certain.
Are you basing that on anything, or are you just taking it on faith?
What workaround? Essence loss will always be a problem. To deny that would be wishful thinking.
Hey, man, if you say so.
{{GM}}He smirks at you.{{/GM}}

No, my friend, I am not taking it on faith. My beliefs are rooted in my own observations and experiences.

For the time being, let us leave the matter at that.
"Always" is a dangerous word, my friend. I would encourage you to broaden your thinking; I am confident that you will reach the same conclusion on your own.

For the time being, let us leave the matter at that.
I do. But I would encourage you not to take my word for it. Instead, broaden your thinking; I am confident that you will reach the same conclusion on your own.

For the time being, let us leave the matter at that.
Not at all, go ahead.
Feel free to ask them. I will provide what answers I can.
A similar one to the role that he plays now, I imagine. He was designed for a purpose, after all.

That said, I can see the techniques that went into his design and fabrication having much broader-ranging applications.
Yes, of course. Koschei is very close to me.
As if on cue, the drone scuttles forward, the hardened tips of its claws screeching across the metal floor of the shop.

It comes up short just in front of you, a strange mechanical chitter rising from deep within its chassis.
You might accuse me of anthropomorphizing my little companion. Assigning human characteristics to him where in fact there are none.

Truth be told, there is much more to Koschei than meets the eye. But that is a different conversation... one best suited to be held for another time.
Why? Why not talk about it now?
If that's what you want.
Because I have work to do, and I'm sure that you can find better uses for your time than listening to me prattle on.

{{GM}}He gestures toward the hatch in the ceiling.{{/GM}}

And with that, I'm afraid that I must ask you to show yourself out. We can continue our talk at a later time.
All right, Racter. We'll talk later.
{{GM}}He turns away.{{/GM}}

Good night.
{{GM}}He nods.{{/GM}}

It is. I have work to do, and I'm sure that you can find better uses for your time than listening to me prattle on.

{{GM}}He gestures toward the hatch in the ceiling.{{/GM}}

And with that, I'm afraid that I must ask you to show yourself out. We can continue our talk at a later time.
Certainly.

{{GM}}He turns back to his work.{{/GM}}

Good-bye, my friend. We'll talk later.
You're back. Is there something that I can help you with?
Racter's shop is curiously silent. As you step down onto the grated metal floor, the sound of your own footsteps reverberates through the echo chamber of the converted engine room.
Welcome back, my friend.

{{GM}}He leans against his desk.{{/GM}}

Is there something that I can do for you...?
Quiet night in the shop, huh?
Care to pick up where we left off last time?
I'd like to continue our earlier discussion.
These stimulus generators that you've been implanted with... how do they work?
I should go.
Yes, yes. A quiet night.

{{GM}}He takes a drag on his cigarette.{{/GM}}

One best suited for contemplation, planning, and visions of the future.
{{GM}}His smile widens. Light gleams off of strong, sharp teeth, lending him a predatory appearance.{{/GM}}

If you like. I must confess, I have rather enjoyed our talks... it is good to have a sounding board to bounce ideas off of.
Sounding board, huh? That's what I am to you?
Agreed. Our talks have been pleasant, in an academic sense.
Funny. I'd thought that we were friends.
A figure of speech, please forgive me. I am, by nature, a solitary creature... I must confess that I sometimes forget how to interact with others.

You are more than a sounding board. You are my equal, and a friend.
Koschei scuttles forward, mechanical pedipalps weaving. Its motions are as alien and charged with menace as they've ever been.

Racter glances at the machine, and it takes a step back.
{{GM}}He returns his attention to you with a smile.{{/GM}}

But enough of this maudlin talk. You had questions for me - go ahead and ask them, please. I will answer whatever I can.
You said that you sometimes forget how to interact with other people?
The last time we talked, you hinted at Koschei being special in some way. I want to hear the full story.
Okay. So you've rigged your drone to act as a home to your most destructive impulses. I've gotta ask... why?
Tell me why you think we're going to beat the essence limit. You hinted at it before, but I want to know.
I think that I've heard enough for now. Let's talk about something else.
An idiosyncrasy of mine, I suppose. When I get lost in my own head, relating to others becomes... difficult.

{{GM}}He smiles apologetically.{{/GM}}

It's nothing personal. Just a quirk that I occasionally struggle to hide.
I know the feeling. Sometimes I feel like a visitor from another planet, like I can barely remember how to talk.
You're doing a pretty good job of it. You've always been friendly with me.
More than occasionally. You talk like a robot, Racter.
That is the feeling, yes. You summed it up quite nicely.
Ah, but when you come down here, we talk about things that are relevant to my interests. That makes it easier.

In any case, thank you. Your kindness is appreciated.
{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

Perhaps. But that has never stopped you from seeking me out for conversation.
Yes, I had figured that you might.

Tell me. Have you noticed anything... unusual... about Koschei in the time that we have worked together?
It feels like he acts without you ordering him to... like he's semi-autonomous, maybe.
He seems to react to your moods. It's weird, he's almost more like an animal than he is a drone.
He's creepy as hell, if that's what you mean.
Nothing that I haven't attributed to clever programming and a slightly unhinged designer.
{{GM}}He nods, his lips pursed.{{/GM}}

Yes, a good observation. Koschei could be described as semi-autonomous, though for a different reason than you might think.
{{GM}}He nods, his lips pursed.{{/GM}}

Yes, a good observation. Koschei's behavior could be described as animalistic, and for good reason.
I'm waiting.
And? You wanna tell me what that reason is?
The drone lowers itself, its killing legs splayed.

Racter looks to the drone, his head cocked. Then he returns his gaze to you.
His behavior is not dronelike because he is not a drone. At least, not in a way that you would understand.

He is a prosthesis.
Explain.
Prosthesis? What is he meant to replace...?
The principle is really very simple. You can think of him as a cyberlimb, if you will.

We may be separated by distance, but he is joined to me as surely as a replacement leg is to its wearer.
Hang on - you're telling me that you're *always* rigged into your drone?
Not on a conscious level, no. But subconsciously? Yes.

There is a constant two-way stream of data flowing between my brain and his systems. When he takes a step, I can feel it as a tingle in my spine. When he tears into flesh, I feel the satisfaction.

We are a singular entity in two bodies. Metal and flesh made one.
You're gonna have to explain that.
Your drone isn't a part of you. It's a machine that you control through your datajack.
Koschei acts as a home for my primal, animal impulses. The id, to use Freud's structural model of the psyche.

The analytical portions of my mind - the ego and super-ego - live on in me. They govern the id, and, by extension, Koschei's behavior.
When we're on a run and I rig into Koschei, I do not command him to attack. Rather, I loosen my grip on his reins and *allow* him to kill.

He *wants* to hunt, to dominate, to bathe himself in blood. Reproduction would also be a drive if such a thing were possible.
So if you were killed, Koschei would... what? Run amok?
How can a drone have those sorts of instincts?
{{GM}}He chuckles.{{/GM}}

No, my friend. Of course not.

Koschei is not capable of *storing* any part of a human mind - he simply doesn't have the capacity for it. If I were to die, he would fall dormant, the same as any other drone.
One day, perhaps I will perfect him, and a part of me will live on in his chassis after the meat of my body dies. But for now, I am satisfied to live with him as a combined entity. Man and machine, joined through a form of neural parabiosis into a single being.

A beautiful first step into a posthuman future.
I guess that if I have to know a mad scientist, I'm glad that he's on my side.
This is weird, Racter. And probably dangerous.
{{GM}}He snickers.{{/GM}}

Well said, my friend. And the feeling is mutual - if I must associate with violent criminals, I suppose that I am happy to call them friends.
{{GM}}His smile widens.{{/GM}}

We live in dangerous times, my friend. Everybody on this boat is dangerous. But if my relationship with Koschei alarms you, we can discuss other matters... the weather, perhaps. The choice is yours.
He doesn't. They are *my* instincts, streamed into him on a continual basis. They lend him a semblance of life... albeit one driven entirely by my reptile brain.

If the stream were interrupted - by my death, say, or a malfunctioning datajack - Koschei would fall as lifeless as any other machine. But barring such an interruption, he will remain a part of me.
And tell me: what is a cyberlimb? Is it a part of its owner, or a machine that has been grafted onto a cripple?
That's different.
All right, I get your point.
Why? Because of proximity? Yes, a cyberlimb is physically attached to its owner, but it's the *neural* attachment that matters.

A cyberleg is not a peg leg. A cyberarm is not a mechanical prosthesis. They become part of their wearers because of the way that they interface with the brain and the nervous system. *This* is the connection that Koschei and I share.
I thought that you might. A cyberlimb is physically attached to its owner, yes, but it's the *neural* attachment that matters. And that is the connection that Koschei and I share.
He isn't meant to *replace* anything. But he does *contain* a portion of me, as surely as your brain sits within your skull.

We are, in a way, a singular entity in two bodies. Metal and flesh made one.
{{GM}}He chuckles softly.{{/GM}}

That wasn't precisely what I meant, no. But I'll take your comment for what it is.

What I was hinting at, my friend, is that Koschei's behavior is unlike that of other drones. And there is a good reason for this.
{{GM}}He chuckles softly.{{/GM}}

Ah. Fair enough, I suppose, fair enough.

But there *is* something that sets Koschei apart from other drones. His behavior is unusual, and for good reason.
As a proof of concept, primarily. There are other advantages, of course... I shouldn't have to explain the value of a combat drone that *wants* to kill.
I could do that. I have already shared quite a lot with you, and you haven't run off screaming.

A good sign, I should think.
{{GM}}He studies your face, peering at you through the gloom.{{/GM}}

But tell me, $(l.name)... are you certain that you *want* to know? Some secrets are less pleasant than others. You might prefer to leave this stone unturned.
I want to know whatever you have to tell me, Racter. I don't run from things because they're unpleasant.
Say what you have to say.
I'm not sure that I want to know what you're going to tell me. Just forget about it.
Very good.

There are things that you don't know about me, my friend. Important things.
Please tell me that this doesn't end with you hitting on me.
For one, I am not... how to put it? *Whole.*
What do you mean by that?
Emotionally, you mean? Mentally?
What are you talking about? Your cyberware?
There was an... accident... when I was young. A shop accident. I barely survived it.

I am very heavily cybered, my friend. You wouldn't know it because I keep my enhancements hidden; others have found them disturbing in the past.
What sort of enhancements are we talking about?
Disturbing? How so?
{{GM}}He uses the edge of his hand to trace a line across his hips.{{/GM}}

Everything below the mid-pelvis is replacement material. That's where I was sheared in half, you see.

It's a miracle that I survived the experience; the blood loss alone should have killed me. But here I am, alive and well. Greatly improved, in point of fact.
You're saying that you're half machine?
Hang on. You lost *everything* below the hips?
Yes. The loss of so much tissue was traumatic, to be sure, as was the damage to my sense of personal identity. But it isn't so terrible as you might imagine.

By every conceivable measure, I have been improved since the time of the accident. I am more than I was before, not less.
Yes. A traumatic loss, to be sure, but not so terrible as you might think.

By every conceivable measure, I have been improved since the time of the accident. I am more than I was before, not less.
You lost half of your body. How could that not be terrible?
I'm not sure that I can imagine anything worse.
{{GM}}He taps his temple with a finger.{{/GM}}

The doctors installed stimulus generators in my brain when they repaired me. With these, I can mimic the full range of sensations that the human body is capable of producing.

Imagine the ramifications of such a thing. The things that you could do, the things that you could *experience.* The implications for operant conditioning alone are staggering.
And so, yes, I have lost the entire lower half of my body. The full ramifications of such a loss are obvious.

But in return, I have gained *so much more.* At will, I can goad my brain into producing whatever sensation I wish. I can poke at the wiring of my own consciousness, and I can reroute that wiring as I see fit.
All right. So you're half machine. What does this have to do with the essence limit?
Racter... you're beginning to creep me out.
{{GM}}He spreads his arms.{{/GM}}

Look at me, $(l.name). I have a shred of essence left in me, and only barely that. But I suffer none of the ill effects associated with traumatic essence loss.
That isn't possible.
How can that be?
I beg to differ. It is most certainly possible, and I am the proof.

I am hardly unique. There are others who share my particular psychological quirks. And we *will* conquer the essence limit, given time.

Natural selection will see to it.
A quirk of psychology, long viewed as an illness but never properly understood. What I now understand to be an evolutionary adaptation to a posthuman future.

We *will* conquer the essence limit, given time. Natural selection will see to it, and I am the proof.
I am what I am, my friend. I cannot change what happened to me, or what I have become since the accident. All that I can do is hide it from you, as I do from the rest of the world.

Can our friendship not weather such a revelation? Would you prefer it if I had continued to keep you in the dark?
No... you're right. I'm sorry.
I might have preferred it, yes. This takes oversharing to a whole new level.
Don't be. Your reaction was an honest one. There is no shame in that.

Shall we get back on track? I did reveal this to you for a reason, you know.
Yes, of course. Tell me what this has to do with the essence limit.
And yet, you were the one who initiated this conversation. You wanted to know. And I did open up to you for good reason... my condition has brought to light a great truth.
Then you have a poor imagination.

Look at me, my friend. I have legs - better ones than the pair that I was born with. And my reconstruction has yielded other benefits that more than make up for any tissue that I might have lost.
The enhancements themselves are not the problem. The extent of the damage that they were meant to correct, however...

{{GM}}He sighs.{{/GM}}

That is a different matter.
There are arguments that could be made to support both of those positions. But, no, that wasn't what I meant.

I was talking about my physical body.
{{GM}}He nods.{{/GM}}

Yes. But not my datajack, or the headware that you can see.

I am sporting a great deal of replacement material. You can't see it, but I assure you, it's there.
There was an accident, you see. A shop accident. I barely survived it.

I keep my enhancements hidden out of respect for your feelings, and those of the other members of the team. Other people have found them... how to put it... unsettling in the past.
Ah... no. I'm afraid not.

I am not... how to put it? *Whole.*
Very well. There are things that you don't know about me, my friend.

Important things.
{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

We can change the subject, if that is what you wish.
If you like. You are the guest here, after all.
Glad to hear that we're on the same page.

{{GM}}He takes a drag on his cigarette.{{/GM}}

I must confess, I sometimes forget how to interact with others... I am, by nature, a solitary creature. It is good to have a kindred spirit, someone whom I can understand, on the team.
{{GM}}He claps his hands together and rubs them briskly.{{/GM}}

So, my friend! You had questions for me - go ahead and ask them, please. I will answer whatever I can.
We are. Please forgive me if my choice of words has offended you - it was not intentional.

I am, by nature, a solitary creature... I must confess that I sometimes forget how to interact with others.
By all means. I'm an open book - ask whatever you like.
The technology is rather akin to simsense, but considerably more powerful and flexible.

Most simsense experiences - those found in BTL chips, for example - are structured around basic narratives that provide their users with context. But if you strip away the veneer of escapist fantasy, what you have left is an extremely powerful toolkit.
I've never heard of anything like that on the market... not even in the shadows.
And what have you done with this toolkit?
You mentioned operant conditioning before. Have you tried that? Reprogramming yourself?
I'm not surprised. They're Russian technology, government funded and quite experimental.

{{GM}}He sucks on his cigarette, a thoughtful expression on his face.{{/GM}}

The project was canceled shortly after I received my implants. Something about graft and corruption on the administrative level... yet another example of good science derailed by bad politics.
Have you heard of anyone else who's gotten these implants?
Any idea where I can get myself a set of those things?
I know of a handful of other recipients. From what I've heard, the others were all driven quite mad. To be handed control over the inner workings of one's own brain is a tremendous responsibility.

{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

Perhaps the others were less well-equipped to handle it than I am.
Be careful with those things, Racter. The last thing I need is you wigging out on me.
Or maybe they've driven you insane, too. Ever considered that possibility?
I have carried these implants for over twenty years, my friend. I know how to handle myself.

You have nothing to fear.
All of this stuff that you've told me about yourself... it's a lot to digest.
So what else have you been keeping from me? I know that there's more to the story than this.
Yes, my friend. I'm sure that it is.

Perhaps it would be best if you left. You have some processing to do, I think, and I would like the rest of the evening to myself. There is more to the story, of course, but nothing that can't wait till tomorrow.
Sure, Racter. We'll talk tomorrow.
Very good. Rest well.
There is, my friend. But nothing that can't wait till tomorrow.

You have a lot to process, I'm sure, and I would like the remainder of the evening to myself. But if you come back later, I will finish the tale.
Of course. Considered, and rejected.

{{GM}}The corner of his mouth curls into a wry smile.{{/GM}}

Granted, I could be wrong about that. Perhaps I am mad. But then, what would that say about you, and your willingness to associate with me?
Sadly, no. As I said, the project folded... the devices themselves never made it to market. That's probably a good thing, truth be told... from what I've heard, all of the other recipients were driven quite mad.

{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

Perhaps the others were less well-equipped to handle it than I am.
{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

A little of this, a little of that. I have toyed with a number of my brain's basic neurochemical functions - simulating the experience of peer bonding by stimulating the flow of oxytocin, for example. But I must be careful not to overstep my bounds.

Reprogramming the brain is a risky endeavor, however great the temptation might be.
Oh, yes. In my position, wouldn't you?

Quite a handy thing, to be able to rewire the brain's responses to external stimulus. If you could make nutrient paste taste like seared foie gras, wouldn't you? And the devices have proven equally useful in curbing bad habits... I could be quite impulsive before the accident, but I have since taken steps to dissuade myself from rash action.
All that being said, I must be careful not to overstep my bounds.

Reprogramming the brain is a risky endeavor, however great the temptation might be.
You're back. Welcome.
Again, the shop is quiet. No hammering of metal, no whine of heavy machinery. Nothing but the sound of your own footsteps and the low electrical hum of Racter's work terminal.

The monitor above the work desk is alive with vibrant imagery: graphs, technical readouts, and reference images fill the screen.
{{GM}}He looks up at you, his face bathed in the blue light of the display.{{/GM}}

Ah. Hello again, my friend. Back for more answers?

I can take the time to talk if you can.
I want to continue our discussion from last time. There are some loose ends that we need to tie up.
Let's go back to what we were talking about before.
I don't know how much I like the idea of continuing to work with a psychopath.
This is a lot to process, Racter.
I should go. Talk to you later, Racter.
Yes, my friend. I suppose there are.

Go on, then. Ask your questions, and let us see where your inquiries take us.
The last time we spoke, you told me that essence loss didn't hurt you. I want to know why.
All this time, you've been calling me "my friend." Does that word even mean anything to you?
Okay. You say that your mental condition protected you from the trauma of essence loss. Got any proof of that?
Actually, let's talk about something else.
Yes, I did tell you that. And I do owe you an explanation.
{{GM}}He turns his head slightly. Peers at you through the corner of his eye.{{/GM}}

Tell me, my friend. What do you know about essence loss, and its effect on the metahuman psyche?
Losing essence kills a part of you. The more cyberware you get, the more detached you become from reality.
Essence loss removes your ability to feel anything. It can drive you psychotic if you go too far.
{{GM}}He nods.{{/GM}}

Mmm. Yes, that's right. And this detachment can be deeply traumatic for the sufferer... the literature is full of such cases.
{{GM}}He levels his gaze, focuses it in on your face. There's a smile on his face, but his eyes are devoid of warmth.{{/GM}}

Now. What would you say if I told you that after my accident - and subsequent cybersurgery - I felt no different at all? That even in the beginning, I was completely unchanged?
I'd ask if you knew why.
I'd tell you that you were full of shit.
I'd say that you must have scrambled your brains with those stimulus generators.
I do, in fact.

Would you like to know?
That's why I asked.
I was born with what society has deemed a psychological defect. Out of fear of social repercussions, I spent most of my life hiding it. I still hide it, even now... the lessons of my childhood were not wasted on me, and I know the value of reputation.

But since the accident, I have come to recognize this quirk for what it really is: a selective advantage.
What is this "defect" that you're talking about? Does it have a name?
Don't leave me in suspense. Tell me what you're talking about.
You're crazy, aren't you? That's essentially what you're telling me.
Absolutely.

I was diagnosed as a primary psychopath at the age of eight.
Koschei scuttles forward, brushing up against Racter's leg. Metal on metal, separated by a thin layer of cloth.

The drone's many eyes focus on you, irising wide open and bathing you in a dull red glare.
Well... "diagnosed" is probably not the correct word. There is no formal diagnosis of "psychopath" in the DSM. But all of the markers were there.

I displayed a complete lack of empathy on the Davis Interpersonal Reactivity Index, and I scored a perfect 40 on the PCL-R. A blood test showed that I had inherited a damaged gene that has been linked with aggressive behavior, and the activity level in my ventromedial prefrontal cortex is vanishingly low.
Like autism, psychopathy is a spectrum, not a singular disorder.

{{GM}}He dips his head, smiling.{{/GM}}

But I am definitely on that spectrum.
Okay. And so you think that this... condition... is the reason why you didn't suffer the trauma of essence loss.
I knew that there was something seriously wrong with you. I just got that vibe, from the very beginning.
You say that psychopathy is a spectrum. So where are you on that spectrum, Racter?
Yes. My "condition" is an advantage - one that protected me from the mental trauma of my accident and subsequent reconstruction.

The psychological blow of essence loss can be devastating. This mental trauma is ultimately responsible for much of the damage and self-destructive behavior suffered by those who ride the razor's edge.
Of course, there is a physical limit to how far the metahuman body can be pushed, but a "normal" person will reach his mental breaking point far in advance of this.

The loss of self, the loss of *capacity,* is too painful to bear.
...But you didn't hit that breaking point.
No. I did not. Indeed, I am quite certain that my breaking point does not exist.

What does it matter to me if my capacity for empathy and conscience is stripped away? I never possessed either of those qualities in the first place.
Did you, now? Then you are to be congratulated - I have a lifetime of experience pretending to be an average man. Brighter than most, perhaps... but not a predator.

But the truth, my friend, is that there is nothing "wrong" with me. In point of fact, I enjoy an advantage that you do not have.
My psychopathy - this horrible flaw that you so deftly intuited - is what saved me, you see. It protected me from the mental trauma of my accident and subsequent reconstruction.

The psychological blow of essence loss can be devastating. This mental trauma is ultimately responsible for much of the damage and self-destructive behavior suffered by those who ride the razor's edge.
Before I turned to the shadows, I considered myself a "prosocial" psychopath. That is to say, I had the markers for psychopathy, and I expressed some of the expected behaviors. But I never killed anyone... at least, not until it became a job requirement.

Now, I'm not so sure. I will admit that there is a certain thrill to our profession... it's quite liberating, being paid to hunt and kill other men. But I only indulge these appetites when I'm on the job, and I never bring my work home with me.
I'm sure that this all comes as a great shock to you. But I tell you, my "condition" is actually an advantage. One that protected me from the mental trauma of my accident and subsequent reconstruction.

The psychological blow of essence loss can be devastating. This mental trauma is ultimately responsible for much of the damage and self-destructive behavior suffered by those who ride the razor's edge.
Yes, of course.

I was diagnosed as a primary psychopath at the age of eight.
"Crazy." A word so broad as to be meaningless.

We are discussing a specific phenomenon, so let us *speak* in specifics.
Well? Go ahead, then. Tell me what you're talking about.
This is like pulling teeth. Just spit it out already, tell me what's wrong with you!
And you would be wrong.

I am not lying to you. Every word that I have uttered has been true.
And you would be wrong. I cannot prove it, of course, but it's true.

Whatever quirk of fate led to me being the way that I am, it was not the fault of my implants. Nature herself made me this way.
What way? What are you talking about?
Of course it does. The word has always carried a cerebral meaning... I can understand the concept of friendship, and what it means to others.

I know how important that feeling is, even if I can't experience it myself.
People with my condition... my *advantage*... are not incapable of bonding with others. The only difference is that we do so on a cerebral level, rather than an emotional one.

I enjoy our association, and I recognize the advantage in our being allies. I like talking to you. What better reason for us to be friends?
I have myself. My own experience.

Nearly all of my essence was stripped away in a single stroke, and I *didn't even notice.* What more do you need?
Actual proof. Your subjective experience doesn't qualify.
Nothing, I guess. If that was your experience, then I'll take you at your word.
No. I suppose not. But I know it to be true, all the same.

My hypothesis makes good sense. I have never possessed the sense of humanity that others hold so dear. If having it stripped away is traumatic, then it stands to reason that I would be protected from that trauma.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Academic{{/CC}} Yes, but this whole theory of yours is based on anecdotal evidence. You have a sample size of one, Racter.
Isn't it possible that other factors might have come into play?
I'm sure that there are plenty of other chromed-out psychos wandering around. Have you checked to see if they're all immune to essence loss trauma, too?
Mm. Yes. That is true.

Still, I am certain that time will prove me right. More certain of it than I have ever been of anything. Call it a matter of faith, I suppose... I dislike the term, but it applies.
If that's the way you wanna play this, then fine. But don't expect me to buy into your belief system if it isn't based on facts.
A fair point, and a fair criticism. In time, I will endeavor to show you the proof of my beliefs. Until then, think of me as you would any other member of the team.

Gobbet has her Rat. I have this. It is mine, and you cannot take it from me.
Yes, of course. But this explanation seems the most likely, does it not?

I am certain that, in time, I will be proven right. More certain of it than I have ever been of anything. Call it a matter of faith, I suppose... I dislike the term, but it applies.
In a word, no. I've been far too busy in the shop to troll the streets for augmented psychopaths.

All the same, I am certain that time will prove me right. More certain of it than I have ever been of anything. Call it a matter of faith, I suppose... I dislike the term, but it applies.
And you would be wise to. I speak the truth.

My hypothesis makes good sense, my friend. I have never possessed the sense of humanity that others hold so dear. If having it stripped away is traumatic, then it stands to reason that I would be protected from that trauma.
Fine, fine, very well. What would you rather talk about?
If you wish.
{{GM}}He wags his finger at you, scoffing.{{/GM}}

Come, come, my friend. You know what we do for a living. We are violent criminals. We hurt people for money. That's what running the shadows *is.*
Yes, we hurt people. But hurting people isn't the point, it's a means to an end.
I'm running the shadows because I don't have a choice, Racter. I didn't choose this.
Hmm. You've actually got a point there.
For myself as well. I don't *mind* hurting people... in fact, it can sometimes be quite enjoyable. But it is entirely secondary to my purpose.

I run the shadows for money so that I can continue my work here in the shop. It's true that I have come to enjoy the sport of our profession, but I have long since learned to tame my more reckless impulses. So where is the distinction between you and me?
There's a difference, Racter. Maybe you can't see it, but it's there.
You're right. We may be running for different reasons, but at the end of the day, we're all doing the same thing.
{{GM}}He raises an eyebrow.{{/GM}}

Can you quantify it for me?
Yes. The difference is that the rest of us know the difference between right and wrong.
...No. I guess not.
And yet, you routinely choose to do what is wrong. In fact, you ignore your moral compass on a daily basis.

{{GM}}He cocks his head.{{/GM}}

How is that better?
It just is.
You're right. It isn't.
{{GM}}He chuckles.{{/GM}}

All right, my friend. I won't push you any further. Just tell me yes or no: am I still a part of this team?

If not, I will return to my solitary ways. The choice is yours, but make it now. I have little patience for hand-wringing.
Yes. You're still with us.
No, Racter. I can't justify bringing you on runs any more.
Very good. Then let us speak of this no more.
{{GM}}He purses his lips, but nods.{{/GM}}

Very well. The decision is made.

Show yourself out, please. You know where to find the door.
Exactly. So what is there to be upset about?

Do not judge me for what I am, $(l.name). I may have been born without the capacity for empathy, but that doesn't make me any more a monster than you, or Duncan, or anyone else on this boat.

If you disagree with me, you should probably quit running the shadows and find a less violent profession. Something in package delivery, perhaps.
Gobbet and Is0bel did. They've been shadowrunners for longer than I have, and by choice. Gobbet in particular seems to love her occupation.

So I ask you: what is the difference between a woman who loves her life in the shadows, and a man who was born a predator? Our motivations may be different, but the end result is the same.
Yes, I'm certain it is. For what it's worth, I think that you're handling the information rather well.

In the past, there were others who were more... rigid... in their thinking. When I revealed myself to them, they reacted badly. I'm quite pleased that you haven't done the same.
You say that you were born the way you are. If that's true, then it isn't your fault, and I can't hold you accountable for it.
Do not speak of fault or accountability. Doing so implies that there is something wrong with what I am.

I am exactly what I was meant to be. The sooner that you accept that, the sooner your eyes will open to the glorious future that looms on the horizon.
And now, if you don't mind, I would like you to leave.

{{GM}}He turns back to his work desk.{{/GM}}

There is work to be done.
Yeah, I'm going. We'll talk later.
{{GM}}He doesn't turn.{{/GM}}

Be well.
Yes. Good-bye.
Welcome back.
Racter's shop is alive with motion. Wall-mounted tools hammer and spark, each according to its own rhythm.

The cacophony reverberates in the metal confines of the converted engine room, attacking your ears as the light of acetylene torches stabs your eyes.
My friend. You've come back.
Racter turns toward you. His boots are off, and you can see the metallic gleam of his feet.

Freed from the confines of his boots, the appendages have unfolded. Clawed, gripping toes splay out in all directions, at least eight to a foot. They look alien and predatory, like the talons of some great, carnivorous bird.
I wasn't convinced that you'd want to continue our little chats after the last time.

{{GM}}From under his desk, a glint of light catches your eye. Koschei.{{/GM}}

I am glad that I was wrong.
Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss our talks for the world.
I debated it. In the end, curiosity won out.
The vote's still out on how wrong you were. But it didn't feel right to leave it where we did.
I'm pleased to hear you say so. I rather enjoy them myself.

{{GM}}He turns, the sound of metal on metal filling your ears.{{/GM}}

So. What shall we talk about?
Racter... what's up with your feet?
I see that the shop is up and running again. What are you working on now?
I have questions for you about something that you mentioned last time.
Can we go back to what we were talking about before?
So where do we go from here?
I've gotta go.
The replacements that I was fitted with, all those many years ago.

{{GM}}The many talon-like toes that splay out from his feet claw at the ground, scraping against the metal flooring.{{/GM}}

They have been modified somewhat between then and now, as you can see. Improved.
I don't know if I'd call that an improvement.
Those are amazing! I want a pair!
What animal did you base your redesign on?
To each his own. That is the wonder of this form of modification, my friend... I can remake myself into whatever I please, heedless of what anyone else thinks. And, in the future that I foresee, anyone could do the same.
If only I had the time and the resources, I would make them for you. Oh, the ways that I would improve you, my friend.

{{GM}}He shrugs, an apologetic smile on his face.{{/GM}}

Perhaps later, after we've finished all of this. But for now, we have more pressing concerns.
The claws were inspired by the harpy eagle. Quite a majestic creature... a hunter of primates, you know.

{{GM}}He smiles.{{/GM}}

The quantity was driven by artistic license. Impractical, perhaps, but they please me all the same.
More options for Koschei, as always.

He is still far from perfect, but every iteration inches him closer.
{{GM}}The corner of his mouth lifts into a wry smile.{{/GM}}

Yes. I imagine you do.

Go on, then. Ask away.
So in your ideal future, people without empathy, morality, or humanity will replace the rest of us. That sound about right?
If what you believe is true - if people with your condition will inherit the earth - how long do you think that can last?
You said that you were diagnosed as a psychopath when you were eight. What led to that diagnosis?
Yes. People like me.

Tell me, my friend... how does that make you feel? What is your gut reaction to the vision that I have shared with you?
It terrifies me.
It doesn't make me feel much of anything. It's a pipe dream, Racter - it's never gonna happen.
I'm comfortable with it. This is a dog-eat-dog world... I've known that since I was a kid.
{{GM}}He frowns knowingly.{{/GM}}

Of course it does. You do not share our selective advantage. You see what is to come, and it repels you.

For a $(l.man) in your position, this is only natural. Revulsion is the expected response.
I promise you, my friend... if you move past your atavistic reaction, you will see how *right* this is.

The Sixth World is no place for compassion. It is a predatory world, a world of monsters. Some of those came with the Awakening, and others are of our own design, but they are *there.* And if we are to survive, we need to shed those weaknesses that prevent us from competing with them.
I speak with the clarity of a man who is *not* a man, in mind or in body. The things that others refuse to see are as plain to me as the light of day.

I tell you, my friend... life is better this way. One day, you will see for yourself, and you will thank me for what I have shared with you.
{{GM}}He frowns knowingly.{{/GM}}

Of course it will. But you do not know, of course... you don't share our selective advantage.

I suppose it stands to reason that you would put your head in the sand. It's a natural reaction, albeit a useless one.
{{GM}}His eyes light with excitement.{{/GM}}

Good. Very good. I am pleasantly surprised.
The Sixth World is no place for compassion. It is a predatory world, a world of monsters. Some of those came with the Awakening, and others are of our own design, but they are *there.*

If our species is to thrive, we need to shed those weaknesses that prevent us from asserting our dominance.
Indefinitely. What makes you ask?
Psychopaths are born predators. Ever heard of a natural ecosystem that's made up of nothing but predators?
I dealt with people like you in the Barrens all the time. More often than not, they killed each other off.
Intellectual curiosity. You can understand that, right?
You're suggesting that we'll burn ourselves out. Annihilate ourselves.

I will concede that this is possible, but I think it unlikely. This is the Sixth World, after all... even if metahumanity is supplanted by posthumanity, there will be other forces at work in the world. We will not be alone.
You're talking about the supernatural. Dragons, spirits, that kind of thing.
What... you mean, like, aliens?
You'll probably share the world with machine intelligences. We're on the cusp of it already.
Yes. Any form of intelligence that cannot - or will not - make the leap that we will make.

Dragons and spirits would qualify. So would any metahuman holdovers that cling to their natural bodies. Artificial intelligences could also prove problematic.
And what would they be to you? Competition? Prey?
And your solution for dealing with these "problematic" species would be...?
That remains to be seen. But they would give my people something to rally against.

{{GM}}The corner of his mouth tilts upward. The smile contains no warmth.{{/GM}}

I, for one, am looking forward to seeing how it all plays out. Aren't you?
That remains to be seen. Ideally, we would take the cleanest, simplest approach to dealing with them. What that approach might be would depend as much on them as it would on us.

{{GM}}The corner of his mouth tilts upward. The smile contains no warmth.{{/GM}}

I, for one, am looking forward to seeing how it all plays out. Aren't you?
{{GM}}He chuckles.{{/GM}}

You're joking, of course. But I wouldn't discount the idea... it is far more likely that intelligent alien life exists than that it doesn't.

That said, we won't need to wait for first contact to contend with nonhuman intelligence. We're surrounded by them every day.
Any form of intelligence that cannot - or will not - make the leap that we will make could be a problem for us, you see.

Spirits and the paranormal would qualify. So would any metahuman holdovers that cling to their natural bodies. Artificial intelligences could also prove problematic.
{{GM}}He nods.{{/GM}}

Some even say that we have already seen true AI. I had a teammate back in Berlin who insisted as much, though I had little reason to believe her.
As you say, we will likely have to contend with artificial intelligence in the near future. But think of the present, my friend... we are surrounded by nonhuman intelligences. Spirits, paranormal beings, you name it. And in the future that I foresee, you can add any metahuman holdovers that cling to their natural bodies to the list.
Of course, my friend, of course.

{{GM}}He pauses for a moment. Thrusts his hands into his pockets.{{/GM}}

Let us assume, for the sake of argument, that a group of people with my condition would prove... incompatible, in some way. I will concede that we would feel no compunctions about going to war with one another.
That said, I don't think that this is the most likely outcome. This is the Sixth World, after all... even if metahumanity is supplanted by posthumanity, there will be other forces at work in the world.

We will not be alone.
My mother had me tested. She'd always kept a watchful eye on me... obsessively so, truth be told.

It was a rather poor way to experience childhood.
Why was she watching you? What did you do?
She shouldn't have kept you under observation like that. You were just a kid.
She was following you for good reason, I'd say.
Very little. She blew my childhood behaviors out of proportion, I'm afraid... the woman had always been motivated by fear.

{{GM}}He sighs.{{/GM}}

She had her reasons, I suppose.
What reasons are you talking about?
Define "very little" for me.
Malignant narcissism runs in my family. None of the men of my line have understood the concepts of conscience or empathy, and they wouldn't have had much use for them if they had.

My grandfather was an abusive drunk who killed his own brother with a gasoline-powered ice auger. My father was a terror to his employees and assistants - a shark in a business suit. I suppose that my mother expected me to follow in their footsteps.
And haven't you?
Yes. I suppose that I have. But it wasn't by choice.

Had I been left in peace... had my supposed friends not *stolen* what was dearest to me... I might never have taken to the shadows. My path was set by others, not by myself.
I doubt it. You're an admitted psychopath. The cruelty in you would've had to find an outlet sooner or later.
Yeah, maybe. Maybe not, though.
Perhaps. But there is no sense in debating such things.

Things happened as they did, and we are both the better for it, are we not? Surely, it is advantageous having me on the team.
Yes, Racter. It's good for us that you're here.
The jury's still out on that.
{{GM}}The corner of his mouth tilts upward.{{/GM}}

Well, then. There you have it.
{{GM}}The corner of his mouth tilts upward into a smirk.{{/GM}}

And yet, here you are again, spending your off hours in my shop. Conversing with me of your own free will.
Perhaps you're right. I might have gone on to be a serial killer, or worse. But there is no sense in debating such things.

Things happened as they did, and we are both the better for it, are we not? Surely it is advantageous to have me on the team.
A neighbor had a pet rooster. It would crow at strange hours and wake me up... it woke everybody up. We all hated that rooster.

{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

So one day, I cut its throat with a hobby knife.
Did this bird have a name?
Your mother sent you to a shrink for killing a bird? That seems like an overreaction to me.
You killed a neighbor's pet. That isn't "very little."
Chaunticleer. I suppose that my neighbor thought himself very clever.

He was a self-congratulatory fool, and his bird was a pest. So I gave it the send-off that it deserved.
To me as well. But I think that she was more disturbed by what I had done to the body.

I was studying it, you see. The internal structure, the underlying anatomy of the wings and neck and breast. I found that the hobby knife made an excellent scalpel.

It was all very informative until I was caught.
My mother, well... she didn't take well to seeing the animal's vivisected carcass. One look, and I could see it in her eyes: grim certainty, and a sense of righteous justification for a lifetime of suspicion.

She hauled me before a psychiatrist the next day.
In a puritanical mood, are we? So tiresome.

I eliminated a public nuisance. You steal and kill for money. The next time you feel like moralizing, focus on your own ethical deficiencies.
As I was saying, my mother walked in on me as I was studying the body. One look, and I could see it in her eyes: grim certainty, and a sense of righteous justification for a lifetime of suspicion.

She hauled me before a psychiatrist the next day.
So after you were diagnosed, what happened?
{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

I learned what was expected of me. The doctor was very helpful in that regard; he offered false hope and placebos, and false promises that he could cure me if my family met his price. And to me, he offered an escape: all that I had to do was play along, and my problems would be solved.
It wasn't difficult to pretend that I had been cured. Once I understood the outward signs that my mother was looking for, I was able to ape them well enough.

In time, my mother came around.
So you lied, then. You pretended to be cured when you weren't.
In your place, I'd have done the same thing.
I put on a mask, both for my own benefit and the benefit of my family.

I knew what would happen if I didn't. I had been caught, and my mother's scrutiny would only increase if I didn't convince her that I was better.

My grandfather lived out his final days in Black Dolphin Prison. Do you know the place?
No. Is it anything like a SuperMax prison in the UCAS?
I've heard stories.
In terms of conditions, it's far worse. Black Dolphin is one of the most appalling detainment facilities in Russia, and that is saying quite a lot.

I was determined not to wind up trapped in such a place. I am not an animal to be caged.
Racter bends down and runs his fingers over Koschei's chassis. The drone stands motionless, the lenses of its many optical sensors focused on you.
In any case, there you have it. I am glossing over many of the details, of course, but I'd rather not discuss my childhood any further.

Instead, let us think to the future, and to the promise that it holds.
It's a storied place. One of the most appalling detainment facilities in Russia, and that is saying quite a lot.

I was determined not to follow in the old man's footsteps. I am not an animal to be caged.
Of course you would have. Anyone would. Not everybody would succeed, of course; at the risk of sounding immodest, my natural talents for acting and mimicry are quite impressive.

And I had an incentive to play my role well. My grandfather lived out his final days in Black Dolphin Prison... do you know the place?
You're right. At the time, her vigilance was unwarranted. She always made me feel like a prisoner in my own skin.

Between her constant scrutiny and my father's vicious tongue, life was consistently unpleasant at home.
No. At the time, her vigilance was unwarranted. She always made me feel like a prisoner in my own skin.

Between her constant scrutiny and my father's vicious tongue, life was consistently unpleasant at home.
{{GM}}He pauses, reflecting.{{/GM}}

...I suppose that my mother had her reasons to be afraid. But she was a tiresome bore, all the same. I did very little to arouse such intense suspicion.
Very well. If you have questions, ask them. I'm listening.
Yes, of course. Ask away.
Forward, my friend.

Always forward.
Silently, Koschei studies you, its articulated pedipalps weaving hypnotically.
You will join me, won't you? The future beckons the both of us equally.

Follow me, and I will guide you into a better tomorrow. I can think of nothing that would please me more.
If and when your future comes to pass, I'll be there with you to see it.
We'll agree to disagree about your perfect future. For the present, though, you have my support.
You're sick, Racter. You need help.
Good. Very good.

I am pleased.
But in the immediate future, there is the small matter of the Walled City to contend with.

I will, of course, continue to help you as best I can. I need allies as badly as you do, and it is in my best interest to keep them alive.
Good. Let's keep it that way.
Glad to have you with us, Racter. It isn't often that a $(l.guy) gets a chance to work with the Man of the Future.
It's in my best interest to keep you alive, too. You're the most interesting person on this boat.
You have nothing to fear, my friend. I am your friend - you can trust me.

{{GM}}His smile glints white.{{/GM}}

And now, if you will excuse me...
{{GM}}He chuckles.{{/GM}}

No. I suppose not.

And now, if you will excuse me...
Yeah, I know, I know. You've got work to do.
I know the drill. I'll show myself out.
I'll catch you on our next run, Racter.
You see? You know me so well, it's as if we share a single mind.

{{GM}}He nods, smiling.{{/GM}}

Goodbye.
{{GM}}He nods, smiling.{{/GM}}

And I you. Goodbye, my friend - and goodnight.
{{GM}}He chuckles.{{/GM}}

Yes... I suppose that I would be. And I can appreciate the sentiment; I tend to discard things that bore me before long.

And now, if you will excuse me...
Very good, my friend.

If nothing else, I will have ample time to convince you.
You disappoint me, but I am not surprised.

There are so very few people in this world that *aren't* disappointing, after all.
Given your assessment of my sanity, can I assume that you would like to part ways, then?

I will not leave this boat - it is my shop, and my home - but we can break our temporary alliance if it would assuage your worries.
No, Racter. We need you.
Yeah, we should break this association off. I don't think that I can trust you anymore.
Very good, then.

If nothing else, I will have ample time to convince you that I am *not* mad. Not in the manner that you mean, at any rate.
Good-bye, my friend. Have an enjoyable evening.
Ah. As it should.

{{GM}}He turns, the sound of metal on metal filling your ears.{{/GM}}

So. What shall we talk about?
It must be strange, to worry about such things... I will never understand it myself.

Oh, I could pretend to, of course - I spend most of my day pretending to be one thing or another. I've gotten rather good at it, I think. But it has never made any sense to me.
In any case, I do enjoy our talks. Sharing a spirited discourse makes me feel alive, in a way.

{{GM}}He turns, the sound of metal on metal filling your ears.{{/GM}}

So. What shall we talk about?
We have spoken enough for one day, my friend. At the risk of coming across as rude, I simply must prioritize my work over socializing.

Please, come back later, and we can talk. But for now, I must insist that you leave.
I am sorry, my friend, but I cannot talk any longer. There is work to be done.

Come back tomorrow if you like, but for now, please clear the shop. I wouldn't want you to endanger yourself.
It's long past time that I resumed my work. My apologies, but I must ask you to leave.

You'll see yourself to the hatch, won't you?
You should know our pattern by now. We have spoken, yes? And now there is work to be done.

See yourself out, if you please.
Please, leave me to my labors. I have such wonderful things to share with the world...
The Whampoans may be a socially maladjusted group, but I find their philosophies quite compelling.

I suspect that there is a fair amount of overlap between their vision of the future and my own.
A pity that you killed their Elders - I would have liked to speak with them at length on these matters. But I understand why you made your decision, of course.

Our new companion made his case rather forcefully, and it would send a bad message to ignore his cries for vengeance.
Your decision to spare their Elders was a fortuitous one. I look forward to communicating with them at length about their belief system, and the steps that they're taking in accordance with it.

Something to look forward to, I suppose.
In any event. It was a fine job, but to be perfectly honest, my mind is on other things.
An interesting diversion. The... ah... "mummies" that we encountered were fascinating. Dead flesh, reanimated by the controlling will of an astral being bound within.

Of course, the notion that these creatures are genuine reincarnations of long-dead humans is ludicrous. There is nothing innately magical about human consciousness; the "soul" is an antiquated concept rooted in wishful thinking.
Thankfully, your deal has earned us the means to summon one of these entities. I should like to study it... dissection would be best, but given the circumstances, I suppose that external observation will do.

Good work, all the same. My notes will be the richer for it.
A pity that our time with the creatures is at an end. But the job is done, and we have received our pay. And the blade that you recovered should prove quite useful.

{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

A fine day's work, all things considered.
I can enjoy a social gathering as well as anyone else, but our client - and our targets - were contemptible people.

Trideo programs. Soap operas. Intellectually bankrupt, saccharine-sweet family dramas without an ounce of inventiveness behind them. This pap that these fools produce is a poison for the mind.
{{GM}}He takes a drag on his cigarette. Blows the smoke in a plume.{{/GM}}

At least we had the encounter with the vampire to make things interesting.
A reasonably pleasant outing. We had a nice stroll, took in the night air, went to a gaudy restaurant, and took a man into custody against his will.

{{GM}}He takes a drag on his cigarette.{{/GM}}

As jobs go, I've had worse.
A most wonderful outing. Excellent. I have my research back, my prototypes returned... all thanks to you.

Oh, I suppose that I could complain of Taylor and Hardingham's absence... I would have greatly enjoyed commanding Koschei to feed them their own entrails. But this is a small matter. I have my research, and I will catch up with them soon enough.
Your choice to give away the laser prototype that we discovered confuses me, though. Why did you bother? We didn't owe that other team anything. We were there first, and *we* were the ones who found the device.

{{GM}}He waves away the thought.{{/GM}}

Ah, but it doesn't matter. A small thing, my friend, a trifle. The laser is nothing compared to my research. I am in your debt!
And in addition, you uncovered a prototype laser weapon! What an embarrassment of riches this job turned out to be!

{{GM}}He beams at you.{{/GM}}

I will be deeply pleased to see the weapon in action... I have heard that the Ares MP-series lasers cut through flesh, steel, and bone quite beautifully, like a scalpel made of light. A glorious thing, my friend!
I find the notion of qi mechanics - the underlying *science* behind the flow of magically determined fortune - to be quite fascinating. If only I could perceive the ebb and flow of such forces... I imagine that it would be incredible, like observing an underlying force of the universe.

...But alas, such things are beyond the reach of the unawakened. A sorry state of affairs.
I'm surprised that you buy into Hong Kong's obsession with feng shui.
Is there anything that you *can* do?
No, my friend - not feng shui. *Qi mechanics."

Feng shui is rooted in ancient superstition. Yes, its practitioners have enjoyed some success at redirecting the flow of good fortune, but this should not be mistaken for evidence that their beliefs are correct.
After all, an apothecary might brew up a tonic to treat an outbreak of flu, but that does not mean that he understands *why* the tonic works.

I want to know *why* qi works the way that it does, and to strip away the superstitious underpinnings that hold feng shui back.
...But, of course, I cannot. I can't even *see* the qi in question, let alone record my observations.

I will have to leave the topic for others who are better suited to study it.
{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

...Sit back and wait for better-suited researchers to carry the torch instead? It's bound to happen sooner or later.

For myself, I will stick with my own research. It's more than enough work for one man, anyway.
Ah, betrayal. It never fails to sting, does it?

{{GM}}Koschei shifts its posture slightly, its articulated pedipalps weaving.{{/GM}}

A subject that I am rather intimately familiar with, I'm afraid.
I cannot understand why you rewarded Tigath for his role in our betrayal. Awarding him the data is not what I would have chosen to do.

Given my choice, I'd have ordered Koschei to tear out his spine.
{{GM}}He offers you a shrug and a half smile.{{/GM}}

...But then, that is why you're in charge, I suppose. I can be impulsive when it comes to matters such as these.

Better that you use that level head of yours to keep our reputation untarnished.
Rewarding the data to Hwang was the natural choice, and I commend you for making it. Tigath's death screams were the high point of my evening.

All in all, a job well done. A tip of the hat to you, my friend.
Killing both Tigath and Hwang was unexpected, but invigorating. Such a pleasure to be rid of them... their death screams served as the high points of my evening.

All in all, a job well done, and we stand to profit from the data that we recovered to boot. A tip of the hat to you, my friend - you have outdone yourself tonight.
I must commend our ghoulish friend for his planning in organizing this run. We solved a problem for him, diverted attention away from ourselves, and got paid in the process.

Not bad. Not bad at all.
What's more, this activity gave me the opportunity to test Koschei's combat effectiveness against one of the premiere paramilitary organizations in the Sixth World today. The Red Samurai are no slouches when it comes to warfare, as you well know.

Such a proud moment, watching my little creation hold his own against them. I must confess, when the last of our enemies fell, my heart felt fit to burst. A great victory, my friend... a great victory all around.
The convention - DeckCon, was it? - was not to my liking, I'm afraid. Too much frivolity, too little substance. Gods, the Noodle Extruder had a longer line than any of the exhibits!

{{GM}}He shakes his head sadly.{{/GM}}

An absolutely shameful state of the affairs.
That said, I suppose that some of the drones on display looked interesting. Commercial-grade stuff, mostly, but it's good to see what the big manufacturers are up to these days.

I've been... out of the loop, I suppose... since I left Grishin-Aviakor. I haven't missed much, but it was nice to see what else is out there.
Another betrayal. You would think that I'd be used to it by now, but I am most assuredly not.

That said, Xiaozhi's gambit failed him. Josephine Tsang's plans have been laid bare, and we are in a position to act on this knowledge. The upper hand is ours.
Your murder of the Plastic-Faced Man is bittersweet. He was an enemy, yes, and he needed to die... but the work that he'd had done on his face was *superb.*

He would have had a place in the tomorrow that I strive to bring about. Instead, he has a place in the ground. And that is objectively tragic, all other considerations aside.
The restraint that you showed in sparing the Plastic-Faced Man was... difficult to understand. But I am not ungrateful; I strongly suspect that we are kindred spirits, he and I.

The work that he'd had done on his face was *magnificent.* It was art. I find hope in that, all other considerations aside.
We have recovered your foster father, the illustrious Edward Tsang. This is an exciting time, my friend!

Soon, we will enter the Walled City, and we will put an end to the terror that has come to this world. You will have closure. Catharsis. You, and Duncan both.
For my part, I have but one desire: to see the incredible machine that Tsang built. This... Fortune Engine.

{{GM}}He rubs his hands together greedily. Excitement glints in his eye.{{/GM}}

There will be much that I can learn from this device, I'm sure. I confess, my friend... I'm practically salivating with anticipation.
No. I wasn't there, remember? I spent the evening here, in my shop, designing a new manipulator assembly for Koschei.

{{GM}}He gives you a satisfied nod.{{/GM}}

A most productive evening, all things said and done.
Now. What else would you have of me?
I wasn't present on your last run, so I have no thoughts about it.

I did, however, make an exciting breakthrough on some actuator design work that I've been tinkering with.
{{GM}}He puts on an ingratiating smile.{{/GM}}

You didn't see fit to bring me along on your last job, remember? Not that I minded the off-time... there is always more to do in the shop.
I was not there, my friend. I spent my evening enjoying a fine Ukrainian vodka laced with honey and peppers.

{{GM}}His lip curls into a wistful smile.{{/GM}}

Good-quality stuff, that. A pity that it was my last bottle.
Your last run? Why, I was here at home, remember?

I'm afraid that I can't say much about a job that I wasn't present for.
Alas, I cannot comment on your last run, as I was not a part of it.

I did spend many productive hours here in the shop, however. Koschei will be the better for it.
Secure Datastore IC Code
gu4nYU
The Harbour Spires kitchens are a whirlwind of activity. Attractive twenty-somethings in white catering uniforms dash in and out of the room, their arms laden with heaping trays of steaming shellfish.

One man stands still amidst the chaos. The eye of the storm. His white coat is at least half again whiter than those of his subordinates, and his collar's starched as stiff as a board.
The floor manager notices you, and his eyes narrow. He stalks toward you, practically frothing at the mouth.

You can't help but notice the embroidered corporate logo on his lapel: "Pastry Magic & More! Fine Catering." The image is completed by a stylized rendering of what appears to be a frolicking kitten standing astride a pair of shooting stars.
You! What are you doing in my kitchen!?

{{GM}}He glances at your chest. Sees the visitor badge hanging from the lanyard that Is0bel gave you dangling around your neck.{{/GM}}

Convention-goers are *not allowed* beyond the show floor!
I smelled clams. Are you steaming clams back here?
I'm sorry, I must've gotten turned around. Do you know where the Shiawase kiosk is?
I'm just passing through. Step aside and I'll be on my way.
{{GM}}He growls in exasperation.{{/GM}}

Yes, idiot! Yes, we are! And if you want some, you're going to have to wait on the show floor with everyone else!

Now get out. Go! We have work to do here.
No, I don't know where your damned kiosk is. Go ask on the show floor.
{{GM}}He gestures impatiently.{{/GM}}

Good! Go! Get out of our hair and back to the show floor, where you belong!
{{CC}}Etiquette: Corporate{{/CC}} I'm here at the behest of my employer, Wuxing, Inc. Perhaps you have heard of us?
{{CC}}Etiquette: Socialite{{/CC}} Please forgive my impertinence. I have a gala event to cater, and I was hoping to book you for the event.
I really like your uniform. Could I buy one for my daughter?
{{GM}}He stops short.{{/GM}}

Yes. Everybody's heard of Wuxing. But... what do you want with me?
Our CEO, Mr. Wu Lung-Wei, likes your food. He would like to offer you a permanent location in one of our corporate food courts.
{{GM}}His eyes go wide.{{/GM}}

Y-yes, yes, of course! I am *so* sorry for the rough treatment that I gave you when I found you in my kitchen!

Normally, I would *never* have--
Of course you wouldn't. Now, I'll need to bring my employers one of your uniforms for branding purposes.
One of our uniforms? Yes, of course! Take as many as you need!

{{GM}}He fumbles with a device on his wrist, and a door in the corner of the room opens with a click.{{/GM}}
Thank you. My employers will be in touch with your contract.
Good decision. You're about to become a very wealthy man.
Oh, thank you, $(l.sir)!

{{GM}}As you turn away, he bows frantically after you.{{/GM}}

This is the happiest day of my life!
{{GM}}He raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.{{/GM}}

A gala event, you say? In that case, please forgive me. I hadn't realized that I was speaking with a $(l.man) of quality.
You are, my good man. The only concern that I have is your uniforms... I'm not certain that they'll work with our decor.
I'm sure that some arrangement can be made...

{{GM}}He taps at a device on his wrist, and in the corner of the room, a door opens with a click.{{/GM}}

Here. Why don't you take a spare uniform to compare against your event space? If it doesn't work for you, we can come to a compromise.
What a splendid idea. I'm looking forward to working with you, sir.
Funny enough, I was just about to suggest the same thing.
And I with you! When you're ready to book us, please contact our main office and ask to speak with Fan. She'll take good care of you.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must get back to work.
{{GM}}He smiles affably.{{/GM}}

Great minds think alike, I suppose. When you're ready to book us, please contact our main office and ask to speak with Fan. She'll take good care of you.
{{GM}}He growls in exasperation.{{/GM}}

Yes, idiot! Yes, we are! And if you want some, you're going to have to wait on the show floor with everyone else!
{{GM}}He stares at you.{{/GM}}

You want to buy one of our uniforms?
Yeah... an extra-small one, if you've got it. I think that she'd love that kitten logo.
{{GM}}His mouth tightens.{{/GM}}

It isn't a kitten. It's supposed to be a celestial tiger.
It looks like a kitten to me.
Looks like a kitten to me.
{{GM}}He hangs his head low, color creeping into his cheeks.{{/GM}}

...Yeah. I know. I keep telling our graphic designer, but he never listens.

You want a uniform? Five hundred nuyen. Pay up or get out.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Medium){{/CC}} Oh, come on. Be reasonable. I'll pay you *five* nuyen for the the uniform, and another 295 for your assistance.
{{CC}}¥500{{/CC}} {{GM}}Pay the man.{{/GM}} Done deal.
Too steep, forget about it.
Three hundred nuyen, huh?

{{GM}}He mulls it over, chewing on his mustache as he thinks.{{/GM}}

...Hell with it. You've got a deal.
{{CC}}¥300{{/CC}} {{GM}}Transfer the money to his credstick.{{/GM}} Done and done. Now where's the uniform?
Huh... it looks like I can't afford three hundred after all.
{{GM}}He jerks his head toward a door in the corner of the room.{{/GM}}

It's in the ready room, over here.

{{GM}}The kitchen manager clicks a button on his wrist and the door slides open. He smiles proudly.{{/GM}}

Remote system, to help servers with full hands.
That's, uh... that's a pretty sweet piece of gear, there.
Am I supposed to be impressed?
It is, actually. The hotel doesn't just hand these things out, you know... most other catering companies would never get their hands on one.

Now grab your uniform and get out of my hair, all right? We're busy here.
Just get the uniform and go.
Then leave my kitchen! Get out!
But that's a kitten, though. Just look at its little paws.
You again? What the hell are you still doing in my kitchen?!
Aim I
Increases the target's to hit chance by 8-12%. Does not stack, nor affect AOE abilities. Lasts 2 RNDS.
Aim: Accuracy +8%
{{GM}}As you exit the Whampoa into the sweltering night air of the Kowloon streets, Gaichu turns to face you.{{/GM}}

I confess, I am unhappy with the decision to allow the Whampoan Elders to live. We should have killed them, if for no other reason than to maintain our reputation.
That's why I let them live. That's not how we do things.
If you're going to run on this team, you'll have to learn to accept my decisions.
What's done is done. Let it lie.
{{GM}}Gaichu bows to you, head held very low.{{/GM}}

I can accept this. I am unused to working with shadowrunners, and assumed you would see things as I do.

Hopefully, there is much I can learn from you.
Shall we leave this place?

I am eager to be done with Whampoa Garden.
{{GM}}Gaichu bows to you, head held very low.{{/GM}}

I spoke impertinently, and it will not happen again. You have my apologies.

From this point forward, my sword is yours, no matter what decisions you make.
{{GM}}Gaichu bows to you, head held very low.{{/GM}}

This is a fair point. You have done me a great service, and I will follow your lead.
Defiance Super Shock
Taser: A popular weapon with law enforcement. Its darts trail a wire, allowing a powerful shock to be delivered.
Military Vest
A popular style in Hong Kong imported from the west. Comfortable breathable vest, with pockets for all your tools.
That's far enough, $(l.guy).

{{GM}}The woman hefts her weapon, tossing a nod toward the gangers behind her.{{/GM}}

This lot's our turf. If you're lookin' for a fix, you're welcome to trade. If you're not here for business, clear the hell out. You try and wander around on our turf, we're gonna have to air you out.
So what do you say? You lookin' for a little pick me up? A little Nitro to give you some pep? Maybe you want some chips, take that edge off. You want it, I got it.
Hey, welcome back. Whatcha lookin' for?
Can I look around this garage?
What happened in the fight here?
Some of these BTLs you're selling look an awful lot like they came from Tong's shop.
{{GM}}Attack them.{{/GM}}
$+(l.man), are you deaf? What the hell did I tell you? No, you goddamn well can't wander around our turf.

{{GM}}The ganger shakes her head, mumbling something about idiots with no memory.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Etiquette: Gang{{/CC}} I'm on business for the Whampoan Elders. You're only here because they tolerate you. They hear you're blocking me, your ass is gonna get kicked all the way to Tsuen Wan.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Socialite{{/CC}} Do you know who Kindly Cheng is? I work for her. She could do you some favors in the future.
{{GM}}The ganger shifts nervously, glancing around at her allies.{{/GM}}

Okay, I'm listening. What kind of business are you on?
I'm investigating the murders of the other Elders. The gunfight with the HKPF might be related.
All right. We only moved in here because all the Whampoans are too shit-scared of monsters and ghosts to come back in... The Elders told us it was all right if we moved in here. Seemed happy to have us camped out, honestly.

Look around. Knock yourself out. Just stay outa the way of our business.
Okay... That's a compelling argument. But why the hell do you care about the garage?
Huh. Well, we're only set up here because the original occupants are too scared of ghosts and demons to come back. There's blood on the floor, so what. The Elders told us it was all right if we moved in here. Seemed happy to have us camped out, honestly.

We just wanna sell chips, that's all. Knock yourself out.
Yeah, that's what I thought.
As far as I know, some police showed up looking for somebody. They got in here, all of 'em got killed. Whoever they were after was long gone by the time we showed up. Used to be a lotta Whampoans living here. They all cleared out, muttering about ghosts and shit like that.
Have you heard anything else about the murders?
Nothing much. I tell you what, though... I've got a guy named Kang, and he was down in the storm drain system last week.

Something was moving down there - big, too, man-sized... But it wasn't speaking any language Kang understood. Kid beat feet back here as fast as he could.
Dumbass dropped his storm drain key on the way out, though - you wanna go lookin' for whatever it was, you'll have to get a new key from somebody else. Kang stole his from a city worker.
Who else might have a key to the storm drains?
There's a guy named Porter Lam who's got keys to pretty much everything - he's somewhere between a cop and a handyman.

Yuen also mentioned some elf woman with crazy-colored hair who managed to scam a key. He said she hunted paracritters down there - devil rats and shit.
Yeah? So what? Why do you care?
Must have gotten them recently. How'd you know Tong was dead?
So if you stole these from Tong's, maybe you saw something I can use in my investigation.
It's like this... Broken-Thumb Yuen was walkin' down the street, and sees this guy go into Tong's joint right at closing time. Tall guy, hunched over. Had this shitty gray rain poncho draped over him. Now, Yuen figured that was weird as hell, so he posts up and waits.

He figures the guy'll come out soon, cuz Tong's closing up shop.
Nothing for fifteen whole minutes. Guy comes out, hustles down the street with nobody sayin' boo. I figure he was waiting for an ebb in the crowds. Yuen sees some blood smeared on the door, though, so he goes to check it out.

Inside? Total carnage. But you know what? Tong's not gonna be using his gear any more, so to hell with it. Yuen jacks the lot of it.
That's pretty cold.
Business is business.
So's sleeping in the street, or goin' hungry, or selling BTLs. It's the life we've got... And that's the way it is. Anything else?
You're damn right it is.

That's all I know. The guy had to be the killer. Tall, gray rain poncho, hunched over. Also smart about how he came and went.
Yeah... I guess that's fair.
Degrade 3.0
Hostile target will take 75 additional DMG from incoming attacks for 3 RNDS.
Vulnerable: All Incoming DMG +75
Pistol: A modern revolver. Massive stopping power, but cannot use the Chain Shot or Double Tap abilities.
Noxious Breath
A venom spray that does -10 HP DMG and does ongoing -1 AP DMG that lasts for 2 RNDS.
Noxious Breath: AP -1 per RND
Ermine's eyes are bleary. Blood from a recent nosebleed speckles her upper lip.

$(L.name). You need armor? Ammunition? Painkillers?

{{GM}}She nods towards her son.{{/GM}}

For painkillers, talk to Callum.
Show me the goods.
Thanks, I'm good.
{{GM}}The older troll woman has a striking, amazonian quality. When she was younger, she must have really turned heads.{{/GM}}

Can I help you?
Do you work here?
You in charge here?
I'm usually beyond helping, but what can you offer?
Work, eat, sleep, and crap here.
This is my family’s place. Me, my husband, and our two boys. Now, do you have business with me? I have no time for window shoppers.
What have you got for sale?
Firearms from all over the world. From Ares to Walther and everything in between. You in the market?
Let’s take a look.
Come back any time. Anythng else you need?
What can you tell me about Heoi?
No. Goodbye.
Very well. Was there something else?
There’s only one thing you need to know. The corporations do not rule Heoi.
We're under Kindly Cheng's umbrella, and her Yellow Lotus soldiers protect the docks and maintain the peace - but we're not triad members, and they don't own us.

Heoi is a crossroads, where goods change hands and deals are made. Kindly makes the market, but we - the families - make it happen.
{{GM}}Ermine speaks with the pride of a woman who bows politely to great powers, but never prostrates herself before them.{{/GM}}

Families rebuilt this place when it was left to rot. Strong families, like mine. And we protect our own.
Outsiders and corps know that tangling with Heoi is more trouble than we are worth. The triads know it is better to work with us than against us. And now you know these things as well.

You would do well to remember them.
Now, are you looking to buy?
And don't you forget it.
Guns, or a swift kick out the door if you mess with me or mine.
You looking to buy?
{{GM}}It doesn’t take a shadowrunner’s eye to tell who runs Club 88. Even the roughest of patrons show deference to the troll woman in the back. It also helps that she tends a veritable arsenal of high-grade firearms.{{/GM}}

Back again, I see. Didn’t catch your name before.
Didn’t catch yours either. I’m $(s.name).
$(s.name). Who are you?
To my friends, I'm $(s.name). Would you like to be my friend?
Ermine Ka Fai. Pleased to meet you.
We get a lot of passers-through. After their business with the dockmen or the Yellow Lotus, they get escorted here to relax and shop. Then they leave.

I’m happy to never know their names. But you’re a different story, aren’t you?
What have you heard?
Not much. Yet.
So what can I do for you?
Tell me a bit more about this place.
Have you heard of a man named Raymond Black?
Let’s have a look at what you’re selling.
Club 88? We bought it ten years ago. Before that, my husband crewed ships for Wuxing. He’d be gone for weeks or sometimes months at a time, and I was sick of it. Raising two boys on my own? Troll boys? Pah!
We needed something more stable, and I needed a husband at home. So he retired, and we put everything we had saved into this place. The 88 stands for good fortune, and the club has proven worthy of the name.
If only some people appreciated that success, instead of whining about things that will never be.
I seem to recall a blurb on the news, but I didn’t pay much attention. Not a name I know. And if it was a name worth knowing, I’d know it.
Ermine Ka Fai, co-founder of Club 88.
Better that than the alternative. I'm Ermine Ka Fai.
What can I do for you?
{{GM}}Ermine haggles with a dwarf over the price of a customized shotgun, sealing the deal with the offer of a size-appropriate bandolier. The dwarf leaves happy, and Ermine slots another black market credstick into her stash.{{/GM}}

Welcome back, $(l.name). How can I help you?
Business good?
This place ever empty?
How's club life?
Business is booming, as always.
People like easy solutions, and they will pay good money for them. Guns are one way. Booze and drugs another. This is why we sell what we sell.
My son Callum doesn’t understand this. He thinks he would be happier as some corporate drone. But I’ve been there, and I can say for certain that it’s just a longer path to where we are now. It all ends with drinking, or sometimes killing. At least we’re direct about it.
So how’d you end up selling guns out of here?
What’s the problem with Callum?
Let’s see what you have today.
Back when my husband worked for Wuxing, he had a little side operation, smuggling weapons right under the corporation’s nose. Strictly small time, and barely worth the risk. But it brought in a little extra money, which we desperately needed.
But Henry was never very good at brokering the deals. He hated that part of the business. Didn’t care to haggle. Always leaving money on the table. We fought about it often, and one day he told me to handle it, if I cared so much. So I did.
As it turned out, I was better at it. Much better. I had worked in the business world, before the boys were born. I knew how these things must be done. So I began to make all the deals. I secured the product. I found the buyers.
In time, we didn’t even need Henry to babysit the shipments. Our influence had grown strong, and now we run everything safely from dry land.
There is no problem, so long as he remembers his place is here. There are too many ideas in that boy’s head. Too much ambition. And ambition like that never leads to a good end.
He should be happy with what we have built for him. He is the eldest, and so very smart. One day, he will take control of the club and all its business. But he feels trapped here. He wants to be free.
The irony is that his idea of freedom is to work for a corporation. I know from experience, there is nothing further from the truth. They don’t call you wage slaves without good reason. But here, we have true freedom. We make our own way.
I wish he realized this. I try to make him understand, but it only seems to drive him further away. I worry that if I try too hard, I will lose him to his ambitions.
Almost never. The residents of Heoi have many problems, and they come here to deal with them.
Life here is good, though this is not the case for many in Heoi. For these people, we offer comfort.
I wish Callum would take the business more seriously.
{{GM}}It feels as though a pall hangs over Club 88. There are fewer patrons on the dance floor, and far more hushed conversations than raucous frivolity. Ermine scans the too-thin crowd, as if she could suss out the reason for the change.{{/GM}}

Something’s not right. Not right at all.
Has it gotten like this before?
You expecting trouble?
Someone forget to spike the punch bowl?
Once or twice, in the ten years we've owned the place.
Usually when it gets this way, it's for obvious reasons. The death of someone beloved in Heoi. Or a terrorist attack hitting too close to home. This time, I don’t know.
But it doesn’t matter. When spirits are down, people drink. When spirits are high, people drink. We make money either way. I just prefer knowing which way the winds are blowing. Comes from being an old sailor’s wife.
You said you worked in the corporate sector?
Are things with Callum any better?
Can I have a look at what’s in stock?
Oh, yes. I was with Baihu for many years, before the boys were born. I started as low as one can get. But I was always good with people, and I understood the politics better than most.
Being a troll in the corporate world is very hard... there's a lot bigotry. However, I turned it to my advantage in every way I could.

People underestimated me. I used that in every way I could - and sometimes, being able to project raw, contained power is very useful. Slowly, I climbed the ladder.
Sometimes I wonder what might have been, if Callum hadn’t come along when he did. But there’s no changing the past...
No. He’s become even more distant of late. More secretive.
I saw him talking with someone the other day. The kind of person who doesn’t belong in Heoi, and shouldn't even be here. I don’t know who they were or what they wanted, but Callum is clearly trying to hide it from me.
I have a bad feeling. The same heavy feeling that hangs over this place. Something is wrong. Something bad is coming for my son. And I don’t know if I can stop it.
I'm sorry, I shouldn't bother you with my worries. Surely you have more important business.
No, not the kind you mean. It's just a shift in the mood.
If only it were that simple.
To think Callum would prefer to be a wage slave over having his freedom.
{{GM}}Ermine Ka Fai cleans and oils the disassembled parts of a half-dozen assault rifles spread across a nearby workbench. Her focus borders on obsessive, like a person rubbing her hands raw from excessive washing.{{/GM}}

I knew it. I just knew it.
Everything all right, Ermine?
Knew what?
You talking to your guns again?
{{GM}}She looks startled by the interruption, as if her words were not meant for other ears.{{/GM}}
Oh! Nothing. It’s nothing.
Doesn’t seem like nothing.
{{GM}}She pauses in her work, staring at her hands a moment before finally turning her eyes upward.{{/GM}}

It’s about Callum, and the man he has been in contact with. I know who he is now, and... it’s not right.
Who is he?
Is Callum all right?
Would it be rude to ask to see some gear?
Someone I once worked with at Baihu. A... superior. He was a powerful man then, and that was over twenty years ago. He has grown even more powerful since, I have no doubt.
If he isn’t running the Hong Kong branch by now, it won’t be long before he is, if that is what he wants. And this is a man who gets what he wants.
If he wants Callum... I... I think I’m going to lose my son.
{{GM}}She returns to her work, clearly trying to lose herself in it.{{/GM}}
For the moment, yes. But I don’t know how I can possibly keep him safe. I can’t tell him why, but I have to make him understand that he cannot see this person. Ever.
But the closer I try to hold on to him, the quicker my boy seems to slip away. I fear I am driving him straight into the arms of this man. Whatever happens after, it would be my fault. All my fault.
I can't stop thinking about the man Callum was talking with.
{{GM}}The dread creeping through Heoi has pervaded even the induced euphoria of Club 88. Ermine herself is not immune, looking to be caught between the need for rest and the inability to find the peace necessary for it.{{/GM}}

It’s not a good time, $(l.name).
I can see that. What’s going on?
That's usually when I get involved.
When is it ever?
I wish I knew. I can only speak for myself though.
I don’t know about the rest of them, but I’m dead on my feet. Slept a solid six hours, but it was hardly restful sleep.
Still worrying about Callum and that suit?
Perhaps a little business would take your mind off it all?
Like none I’ve ever had before. Vivid. More real than you standing here. And the memory refuses to leave me.
I was twenty years younger. Young. Absolutely at home in my own skin. And happy... happier than I remember ever being. Positively glowing.
There was a man with me. It was Henry, but not the Henry I knew. This was Henry as he might have been if he had never goblinized. Handsome. Well dressed. Perfectly human.
But when he smiled, there were too many teeth. And I knew it was a lie.
Then I woke up, clutching my stomach, feeling for bite marks that weren’t there. I haven’t been able to shake the image of that smile all day. Those teeth. They wanted to devour me and everything I hold dear.
I tried to put that period of my life behind me. I tried to forget what had happened. To move past it. I had to, or else it would have destroyed our family just as it was beginning. Some truths are best left buried.
I can live with the shame. It was my own stupid mistake. But it should have ended there. The past should stay in the past.
But this man will not be denied. He will lure Callum with promises of fortune, power, prestige. He will offer him things I never could, just as he once did with me. Callum feels alone here, just as I did when Henry was away at sea.
I’ll kill this man before I let him take my boy from me. I don’t care who he is, or what right he might claim.
I suppose this is why I am not sleeping well. The dreams...
I'm not asking you to get involved. But something is wrong with these people, and me.
Normally, the people in here are happy. This is our trade and fare. But we're all feeling... something.
I just know something bad is going to happen to Callum. It's giving me nightmares.
{{GM}}The troll woman looks more weary than you have ever seen her. The club is virtually shut down, and she doesn’t seem to care. She has lost that presence which had once so defined her, and it has left her visibly smaller.{{/GM}}

The world’s gone mad, hasn’t it?
Perhaps. You want to tell me what’s really going on here?
The world's always been mad. What's happened?
You're asking the wrong person, lady. Now tell me what's going on.
{{GM}}She looks at the nearby photo of her son Callum, hanging from metal shelf.{{/GM}}

Callum thinks Henry isn't his father. He thinks I had an affair. He even threatened to tell Henry, if I don’t let him leave.
The truth is, he's right.

I did have an affair. I had several affairs. I was young, and beautiful, and very aggressive.

I was going places. Henry was gone at sea, most of the time.
Henry isn't Callum's father, but I can’t tell Callum the truth about his father. It might destroy him.
Are you so sure? Truth often frees us.
Let me guess: Callum's father is his mysterious new benefactor.
Why would that be so?
Sometimes. But it also shatters our illusions.
That man now whispers promises to my son: a free ride through university. A guaranteed starting position at Baihu. A bright future.
Callum doesn’t know what that world is like.

Once, I was ready to leave Henry for that man. He lavished gifts on me. He told me I was special. Maybe he really *did* love me.
I was a troll girl from Heoi, transcending her meager beginnings. I was becoming someone of worth, and I even had a powerful human lover.
{{GM}}Ermine fixes a level gaze at you.{{/GM}}

Baihu has always frowned on metahumans. I was an exception. I thought that just because they accepted me, it wouldn’t affect me anymore. In fact, I myself looked down on most metahumans as oversensitive and lazy.
Then he invited me to a high-level corporate retreat for the weekend.
I bet that ended badly.
And they treated you badly?
My eyes were openned.
Do you want to know what they do at these retreats? They hunt. But what is there to hunt here in Hong Kong? Nothing. Nothing but that which is different. Those they secretly disdain. Those they see as animals. They hunt poor metahumans.
Somehow, they thought I’d be okay with it. They thought that I was one of *them.*
They don’t kill their prey. It’s more satisfying to let them live, knowing their victims are powerless to find justice.

They take trophies: the tips of an elf’s ears. An ork’s tusks. A troll’s horns.
{{GM}}She reaches up to stroke her own horns, as if reassuring herself that they are still intact.{{/GM}}

I realized I had *already* given them a trophy: my basic humanity. My principles.
{{GM}}Ermine's voice cool and professional. Her expression is earnest.{{/GM}}

For me, it wasn't about humans versus elves or orks or dwarves or "my kind." I want you to understand that, $(L.name). It was about common humanity. It's about how we treat *all* people.
I'd have taken some trophies of my own, at that point.
I acted like it was fine, and held it together for the weekend.
I hid my feelings - like any good negotiator in a bad position.

Then, once the weekend was over, I cleaned out my office. I came back to Heoi, and sent Baihu my resignation.
Later, I found out I was pregnant with Callum. When the DNA test confirmed that Henry wasn't the father, I meant to terminate the pregnancy, but… I couldn’t bear to do it.

And so... Callum. My son. One of the joys of my life.
Maybe this man fancies himself as Callum’s father. Even if he does, that still doesn’t guarantee Callum safety among those people.

Baihu is still Baihu. And maybe that man just wants to get back at me, for leaving him.
After all, he had the audacity to say that *I* broke *his* heart.
This is why I can't allow Callum to go. I would rather my son hate me forever than give himself to that world.
{{GM}}Ermine draws herself up to her full height. She restores herself to her usual regal bearing.{{/GM}}

I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have troubled you with my problems. You're probably came here on business, and your time is valuable.

Can I show you anything?
No, I’m sorry. You take care.
That's how shadowrunners and corporate executives are different.
You have no idea.
No. *I* was treated like a princess.

However, my eyes were opened to depth of cruelty I'd been ignoring.
Yes. He is.
Because of who his father is, and what Baihu is.
{{GM}}The darkness infecting the people of Heoi has finally cleared and spirits are again bright. Nowhere is that more evident than with Ermine Ka Fai.{{/GM}}

It is good to see you alive and well, $(l.name). Do we have you to thank for our good fortune?
I may have had something to do with it, yes.
Not going to lie. I shut the door in Hell's face.
I would certainly think so, given what I just went through.
I'm sure we'll never know what you did inside the Walled City, but I do know what you did for this family.
When the world was trying to tear this family apart, you helped us hold strong.
I have my Henry, happier than I've seen him in years. And I have my sweet boys.
How's Henry?
How's Callum?
How's Freddy?
How are you?
Take care of yourself, Ermine.
Henry and I have always had our rough patches. His heart will always belong to the sea, and I think it was slowly breaking every year I kept him on land.
But now we've found a way for him to follow that passion, without leaving us all behind. He's going to build a boat with Freddy and teach him everything he knows.
But I made him promise to also take Callum and me out with them, once they're ready.
So I think he's going to be okay. I think we're going to be okay.
We had a very difficult talk, Callum and I. Difficult for both of us. But I owed him the truth.
He's promised to keep it our secret. He doesn't want to see me hurt any more than I've already been.
And now that I'm no longer hiding anything from him, I think we can be close again, like when he was younger.
We're also discussing how he can pursue university while still helping out here at the club.
Freddy is, and will always be, my special little man. He was struggling with issues of his own, but he seems better now, thanks to you.
He and Henry have talked more in the past few days than I've seen them talk in the past few years. It's been good for Freddy.
He's no longer holding onto the fantasies that had been driving him. He's even taking his job here at the club more seriously.
I can't think of any other way to say it. My little boy is finally growing up. All eight feet of him.
I couldn't be better, with everyone safe and sound here with me.
You have my undying gratitude. Thank you, $(l.name).
{{GM}}The darkness infecting the people of Heoi has finally cleared, but it has still taken a toll. Nowhere is that more evident than with Ermine Ka Fai. She looks like a broken woman, her once proud bearing crumpled{{/GM}}

$(L.name)... I thought you were lost to us, too.

{{GM}}Her eyes are bloodshot. She's clearly been crying.{{/GM}}
What do you mean? Who's lost, Ermine?
It's Henry. He disappeared in the night. Left without a word to any of us.
What happened to Henry?
Stay strong, Ermine.
I know he had been struggling with our life here. But he's managed fine for years.
I suppose the stress we were all feeling, the dreams... they were too much for him.
One of our friends at the wharves said they saw him walking out on a pier. And no one's seen him since.
I just pray he's safe, wherever he is. And I thank God our boys are still here with me.
He has been talking to me and his brother more in the past few days than he has in the past few years. It's been good for all three of us.
Things could be worse. I still have my boys, and I believe you played a small part in that.

We had a good run, Henry and I. No one can take that away.
For everything you've done, for my family and Heoi, you have my undying gratitude. Thank you, $(l.name).
{{GM}}Ermine nods with slow determination. Her jaw is set with resolve.{{/GM}}

I'll carry on, $(L.name). That's what I do. Henry and I had a good life together, and we raised two wonderful boys into men.
We'll make through. Me and the boys.
It's Callum. He's gone. Run off to find the family he never had but always wished for.
He left a note, half blaming us and half apologizing for himself.
But I don't care about any of that. I just want my boy back, safe and sound.
When I think of the man he has gone to see, I can't bring myself to think of what might happen.
Worst of all, there's nothing I can do. We can't fight such men without risking everything we have left. Henry. Freddy.
So all I can do is wait and worry, and hope that Callum finds his way back to me.
But I made him promise to also take me out with them, once they're ready.
He has been talking to me and his father more in the past few days than he has in the past few years. It's been good for all three of us.
Things could be worse, I suppose. I still have Henry and Freddy, and I believe you played a small part in that.

{{GM}}Her eyes glisten, as she speaks - but an unbowed moral strength also shines in them. Perhaps the quality that once made her a successful troll in a corporate world that punishes her kind.{{/GM}}
I will. And if you should ever find Callum... please, $(L.name)...

{{GM}}She brings her hand up, over her mouth. Wipes her eyes.{{/GM}}

Tell him to come home.
It's Freddy. He's run away with some foolish notion in his head.
What's happened to Freddy?
I wish I had been paying closer attention to him, but I had no idea he was struggling with his place here.
Freddy was always a special boy, with a vivid imagination. I thought it was harmless.
Now his fantasies have finally pulled him away from me, and I have no idea where he's gone.
So all I can do is wait and worry, and hope that my little boy finds his way back to me.
But now we've found a way for him to follow that passion, without leaving us all behind. He's going to work part-time on a friend's fishing boat.
It won't mean much in the ways of money, but it gets him back to what he loves. Back to his roots.
Things could be worse, I suppose. I still have Henry and Callum, and I believe you played a small part in that.

{{GM}}Her eyes glisten, as she speaks - but an unbowed moral strength also shines in them. Perhaps the quality that once made her a successful troll in a corporate world that punishes her kind.{{/GM}}
I will. And if you should ever find Freddy... please, $(L.name)...

{{GM}}She brings her hand up, over her mouth. Wipes her eyes.{{/GM}}

Tell him to come home.
Henry and Callum. They're both gone.
I just pray he's safe, wherever he is. And I thank God Freddy is still here with me.
Worst of all, there's nothing I can do. I can't fight such men without risking everything I have left. My Freddy.
He has been talking to me more in the past few days than he has in the past few years. It's been good for us.
{{GM}}Ermine gives a labored sigh, and seems to narrowly hold herself back from breaking down - then she pulls herself back together back to her full height.{{/GM}}

Freddy and I will hold it together. We can do this.
{{GM}}Her eyes glisten, as she speaks - but an unbowed moral strength also shines in them. Perhaps the quality that once made her a successful troll in a corporate world that punishes her kind.{{/GM}}

No matter what it takes for him to be happy... that's what I'm going to do.
I will. And if you should ever find them... please, $(L.name)...

{{GM}}She brings her hand up, over her mouth. Wipes her eyes.{{/GM}}

Tell them to come home.
Henry and Freddy. They're both gone.
I just pray he's safe, wherever he is. And I thank God Callum is still here with me.
{{GM}}Ermine gives a labored sigh, and seems to narrowly hold herself back from breaking down - then she pulls herself back together back to her full height.{{/GM}}

Callum and I will hold it together. We can do this.
My boys. Callum and Freddy. They're both gone.
Worst of all, there's nothing I can do. I can't fight such men without risking everything Henry and I have left.
He's lost his sons, $(L.name). But... we've come together. We need to.
Henry and I have always had our rough patches. His heart will always belong to the sea, every year I've kept him on land has slowly broken his heart.
He's going to work part-time on a friend's fishing boat. It won't mean much in the ways of money, but it will help him stay grounded.
I think he's going to be okay. We need to hold it together. That's what I keep telling myself.
{{GM}}Ermine bites her lip.{{/GM}}

How do you think I am? It's all over, $(L.name). It's all over.
{{GM}}Ermine gives a labored sigh, and seems to narrowly hold herself back from breaking down - then she pulls herself back together back to her full height.{{/GM}}

I've still got Henry... and we know what our job is now: to hold things together, until maybe Callum or Freddy come back... or until we hear they're okay.
Oh, I will.

{{GM}}Her eyes glisten, as she speaks - but an unbowed moral strength also shines in them. Perhaps the quality that once made her a successful troll in a corporate world that punishes her kind.{{/GM}}
For Henry and me... our lives aren't about us at all, anymore. It's going to be about making sure they're okay.

No matter what it takes.
Callum... Frederick... Henry... they're gone.
{{GM}}She looks up at you. Her eyes seems dead. Like she's becoming a ghost.{{/GM}}

They've all left me.
I just pray he's safe, wherever he is. But I fear he's done something awful and I'll never see him again!
Worst of all, there's nothing I can do. I can't fight such men. Their money makes them untouchable.
{{GM}}Ermine doesn't answer, but she looks as if she's already seen the end of the world.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}A ghost of smile plays across her face, then vanishes.{{/GM}}

Stay strong? For what? None of it matters anymore.
{{GM}}Ermine's voice is a hoarse, and strangely dead.{{/GM}}

Soon, $(L.name)...

I think I'll be leaving all of this, too.
Yes, $(L.name)?
We'll carry on. We have to.
We'll carry on. We have to. In case the boys come back.
We'll carry on. We have to... me and Freddy.
We'll carry on. We have to... me and Callum.
None of this matters anymore.
Well... here we are.
Would you care to browse the weapons I have today?
Ares Predator
Pistol: An Ares classic considered the premier heavy pistol on the streets.
Degrade 2.0
Hostile target will take 50 additional DMG from incoming attacks for 3 RNDS.
Vulnerable: All Incoming DMG +50
Single Throw
One blade. Single target.
Degrade 1.0
Hostile target will take 25 additional DMG from incoming attacks for 3 RNDS.
Vulnerable: All Incoming DMG +25
Does an additional -2 AP. Ignores the weapon's HP damage. -10% to hit.
A piercing howl cuts through the silence of the empty station. It's distant, but probably won't be for long.

Better move, and move quickly.
{{GM}}Gaichu sniffs the air, expression intent.{{/GM}}

Guard dogs. They are headed our way, undoubtedly tracking us by scent.

We need to keep moving, or they will be on us very quickly.
Shit. I hate dealing with guard dogs.

We need to pick up the pace, or we'll be up to our ears in angry mutts.
{{GM}}Gobbet turns to face you, planting a hand firmly on each hip. She is grinning like a maniac.{{/GM}}

We barge into an Ares facility, shoot up the staff, steal a laser, and now they're chasing us through a cave with guard dogs.

We are *so awesome*!
Ahh, the venerable practice of using guard dogs to track fugitives.

Knight-Errant really does do everything by the book, don't they?
Crap. You heard that, right?

I hate having to deal with guard dogs. Can we get out of here before they catch up with us?
The Ho Chung MTR station is a testament to high class design left to rot over a period of fifteen years. Smelling of stale urine and mold, this stop has seen better days.

With any luck, you'll be able to wrap the job and leave Ho Chung before the sun's fully up.
{{GM}}Gaichu adjusts his sword, drawing it a few inches from the scabbard to check the edge. He slides it back in, apparently satisfied.{{/GM}}

We should tread lightly in Ho Chung, $(l.name). It's certain that our mystery caller will attempt to ambush us before or during the hand-off with Wright.
We should warn Tigath.
We can take him. He's all bluster.
We'll be careful.
Do you still think he can be trusted? This setup still stinks of betrayal to me.

If you wish to warn him, I will back you up. But try not to be surprised if he slips a knife between your ribs.
You are almost certainly correct. But it would be rank foolishness to underestimate our opponent just because we are more skilled.

Victories are most often won before battle is even joined.
We had better be. We're almost certainly better-trained and better-equipped than our mystery caller and whatever thugs he can muster, but we don't know their numbers or the terrain.

There are more unknowns here than I'd like.
I don't like this. At all. If we don't step very carefully, we're liable to end up wearing pine boxes or as shark feed.

{{GM}}Wu taps the side of his goggles several times to cycle vision modes, eliciting beeps with each push.{{/GM}}

That mystery caller is going to come gunning for us, no doubt about it.
Keep your rifle ready. Anyone jumps, you put 'em down.
Yeah. We need to approach this carefully.
Screw that guy. Our mystery caller's a vicious little thug, but I don't trust Tigath as far as I can throw him. You wanna do it, be my guest, but I'm keeping my safety off just in case.
You're damn right I will. We're in unknown territory, facing an uncertain enemy and without a clear idea of their numbers. If you wanna bake a suicide pie, those are your ingredients, right there.
Careful doesn't even cover it, $(l.firstname). Careful is what you are if you drop a beer bottle. What we have to be is perfect, if we want to get out of this alive. No slips, no mistakes, every shot a hit.
This is bullshit, $(l.name). We've got someone sighting down our backs, and we're exposed out here. If we're not incredibly careful - or lucky - we're gonna be in a deep shit before morning.
Deep shit is where we live, isn't it? Stay ready.
Keep a weather eye on rooftops. We can't afford mistakes.
Really? That's what you care about? Come on, $(l.name) - get your head in the game.

He's a client, and that's all he is. If we don't look out for ourselves first and foremost, we're going to be pushing up daisies come morning.
Crack wise all you want, but this isn't funny. We have an unknown enemy staring down the sights at us, and no idea how he'll come at us.

You're damn right I'll stay ready. But you make sure your head's in the game, too.
I'm not letting anybody slip past me, I promise you that.
{{GM}}Gobbet glances around nervously. She strokes the neck of one of her rats as it peeks out from under her jacket, obviously as worried as she is.{{/GM}}

I don't like this - not one bit. That guy that called us is gonna make a play before we're done here, and we're gonna be the ones under the gun. By all rights, we should cut and run.
Not until we get word to Tigath.
We don't cancel on jobs. We do that, we're dead in every way that counts.
I don't like it either, but we have to see this through.
Psh, it's almost like you care about that slob. Seriously, to hell with him - he's a paycheck, and that's that.
I guess that's a good point. But I still think this is a very bad idea.

I'll follow your lead, but I'll be trying to kill you with death stares the whole time.
Shit, isn't that always the way? Doing stuff you don't want to? And to think, I got into the shadows to avoid that kind of responsibility.
{{GM}}Racter glances up from running a diagnostic on Koschei with his bracer.{{/GM}}

I expect our mystery caller will be paying us a visit tonight. I rather hope he puts up a good fight.
We need to get to Tigath and warn him.
One thing at a time, Racter.
I'd rather not fight if I can avoid it.
If you think we should.

{{GM}}Racter shrugs. His indifference is as palpable as the smell of stale urine that permeates the MTR station.{{/GM}}

As long as we finish the job and get paid, I will be happy.
Always, always. But I'm always eager to test Koschei in new and unexpected situations.

{{GM}}Koschei rises up on its legs, and Racter lays an affectionate hand on top of it.{{/GM}}

Field testing, my friend. It's the only way to ensure progress.
Of course not. But if it can't be avoided, it will be a chance to gather useful performance data from Koschei.
{{GM}}Gaichu runs a fingernail over the glittering edge of his sword before turning to face you.{{/GM}}

You realize, of course, that Hwang is going to be lying in wait for us, yes? That he will try to kill us and steal the data before or during the hand-off?

Of course you do. It's as plain as day.
He seems to know how to play the game.
I'm not certain he can be trusted. Hwang's story had at least as much truth to it as what Kindly told us about Tigath.

I suspect the facts of this affair lie somewhere in the middle. We should be cautious with him.
Absolutely. And the best way to play when you've been dealt the hand he has is to strike from stealth and bring overwhelming force to bear.

He knows who we are and what we can do, and that means he'll attack with whatever forces he can muster.
{{GM}}Wu runs his tongue over one of his tusks and spits on the floor.{{/GM}}

This place smells like a dive bar in Touristville.

You know we're gonna get jumped, right? It's just a matter of when. Hwang doesn't seem like the kind of person to take disappointment well.
If he tries it, we put him in the ground.
You think that's a good idea, $(l.name)? Think about it: what Hwang said made a lot of sense. Maybe he's lying, maybe he's not...

It's your call, but if we mess this up, we're gonna be bullet traps in a firing range.
Oh, absolutely. But consider this: he knows us. He knows our rep.

That means he's not gonna screw up and bring a pack of scrubs to take us down. Whatever he pulls, he's playing for keeps.
I have a bad feeling about this, $(l.name). As much as I hate to admit it, Hwang was making a lot of sense when he was talking about Tigath.

Why change the venue at the last minute? This stinks, and it stinks more because I know Hwang's gonna hit us tonight.
We'll have to play it by ear. Too many unknowns.
{{GM}}Is0bel rolls her eyes, throwing one hand into the air in defeat.{{/GM}}

Sure, you're the boss. But if he's really double-crossing us, he'll pull out all the stops the instant he knows Hwang and his goons are here. And we'll be right in the middle.
I hate unknowns. Unknowns got Nightjar and Gutshot killed. Carter too, if you haven't forgotten.

I'm not going to let that happen again.
{{GM}}Gobbet looks up from picking her teeth with one fingernail.{{/GM}}

What are the odds on Hwang coming after us?

He doesn't seem like the type of guy to deal with disappointment in a calm way. More of a "smash everything with a hammer" kind of guy.
We need to warn Tigath.
We should be ready for anything.
Meh. The guy's just another paycheck to me, and Hwang might have told us some grains of truth back on the Nalchi.

I don't relish the idea of having Tigath pull a fast one on us.
That's the truest thing a Shadowrunner's ever said. There aren't any guarantees in this line of work except for one - you slip up, and you're dead.

Come on, let's go see this through.
{{GM}}Racter rapidly taps out a series of combat parameters on his bracer, Koschei responding with clicks and beeps.{{/GM}}

From what I understand, the Seoulpa rings very technologically adept, and make heavy use of drones.

I think Koschei will prove the superior machine.
You'll probably get plenty of test data.
Mmm, if that's your wish, so be it.

So long as I have money in my pocket when this is done, I don't particularly care where it comes from.
{{GM}}Racter beams, tilting his chin upward in pride.{{/GM}}

I'm glad you understand. For progress to take place, data must be gathered, and modules tested in the wild.
{{GM}}Gaichu runs a claw across the glittering surface of his sword.{{/GM}}

I wonder, $(l.name) - what are you planning? To double-cross the double-crosser? Or to isolate our mystery friend and remove that threat on your terms?
Whatever it takes to get paid and survive.
If Tigath's double-crossed us, we smoke him.
{{GM}}Gaichu bares his teeth, points clicking together lightly.{{/GM}}

You are an individual that understands an essential truth about life: "a warrior is worthless unless he rises above others and stands strong in the midst of a storm."
The way of warriors is simple: you must choose death whenever there is a choice between life and death.

There is no other reasoning.
{{GM}}Wu adjusts his goggles, cycling vision modes with a series of taps against their rim.{{/GM}}

I hate backing out on a job... But I hate being double crossed even more.

What's the play, $(l.name)?
If Tigath's not on the level, he's a dead man.
I'm willing to listen to our caller. For now.
{{GM}}Wu nods in satisfaction, thrusting his lower jaw out so that his tusks are on display.{{/GM}}

Yeah. I'm down with that. A guy comes gunning for us, he'd best come loaded for war.
Hey, I'll follow your lead on this one. Just don't let your guard down.

Just because Tigath's a liar doesn't mean this other guy's dealing a straight hand.
{{GM}}Is0bel taps away at her cyberdeck, too busy to look up at you.{{/GM}}

I understand playing it safe, but for the record? I think our mystery friend should probably be shot in the head. It's the safest course of action.
Shooting him is definitely still on the table.
I'll hear him out. One threat at a time.
{{GM}}At this, Is0bel looks up in surprise. She gives you a slow nod of approval.{{/GM}}

Glad to hear it. If that's the case, I'll keep a bead on his nose. Just in case.
One at a time is the way I operate.

{{GM}}She finally looks up from her deck, a cold expression on her face.{{/GM}}

Be precise and methodical, and you win. Shooting first only matters if you hit what you aim at.
{{GM}}Gobbet hacks a few times and spits a wad off phlegm onto the MTR tracks.{{/GM}}

So who do you think the joker who called us is? And more importantly, do you think he's got anything cool we can steal if he's an asshole?
No clue, but if he tries to push us around, we bury him.
We'll just have to wait and see what he's got to say.
{{GM}}Gobbet pushes her ropes of hair back over her shoulders, swelling up with glee.{{/GM}}

Sweet! That means I can take his stuff. C'mon, I wanna see if we can get a double payday!
{{GM}}Gobbet deflates a little, shoulders slumping.{{/GM}}

Well. I guess that's okay...

I reserve the right to lift some stuff from his pockets if he's a jerk, though.
You know, $(l.name)... If the caller is one of the Seoulpa rings that's after Tigath, I'd be interested in scrounging some of their equipment.

I hear they're very tech savvy, and use drones extensively.
If we have to kill them, loot whatever is helpful.
Let's see what they have to say, first.
{{GM}}Racter beams, inclining his head in a respectful bow.{{/GM}}

Truly, you are a wonderful person. You have my utmost thanks.
If you wish. Our path seems clear to me, but I do tend to approach problems in a far more methodical way than most.
{{GM}}Gaichu clicks his tongue a few times, tasting the stale air of the MTR station.{{/GM}}

Tell me, $(l.name), do you believe that dealing with Hwang is wise? Men of his organization are not known for their honesty.
I guess we'll find out if he can be trusted.
I don't like the idea of being double-crossed by a Johnson.
I suppose you are correct. It is as the saying goes: "the talented hawk hides its claws."

To know the measure of a man, one must meet with him and form a judgement based on experience.
{{GM}}Gaichu lets out a cackle that sounds of broken glass rasping on sandpaper.{{/GM}}

My friend, if there is one thing my time in Hong Kong has taught me, it is that betrayal is often a matter of course in this line of work. Be ready to do violence in the space of a single breath.
{{GM}}Wu hefts his rifle uncomfortably, sweeping his goggles across the empty station.{{/GM}}

Doesn't feel right, backing out of a job like this. Even if Hwang is right, it seems like we should just confront Tigath directly. If we can't be taken at our word, who are we?
We're surviving, that's what we're doing. Whatever it takes.
We've got to meet with Hwang. That way we can confront Tigath on our terms.
{{GM}}Exhaling a long and resonant sigh, Wu nods reluctantly.{{/GM}}

I see your point. Believe me, it's not like this is new to me. But I still don't like it.
Will we, though?

If Hwang's telling the truth, Tigath will have had plenty of time to set up an ambush. We'll even the odds a little, but who knows what kind of backup he has at his beck and call?
{{GM}}Is0bel taps you on the side.{{/GM}}

Just a second, $(l.name). Before we go any further... I think it's good that Hwang's shown you the respect you've earned. But don't think for a minute he wouldn't betray you if he stood to gain from it.
We'll hear what he has to say. Beyond that, all options are on the table.
If Tigath's already betrayed us, I'd rather have a temporary ally than two enemies at once.
Okay. Just so long as you remember that.

{{GM}}Is0bel sucks in a breath over clenched teeth.{{/GM}}

If he's right about Tigath, I think we'll have to send a message.
Shit, $(l.name)... Double-crosses are part of the business. On the streets, we have to watch out for our rep, but the Johnsons?

We're all just meat in the grinder to them.
Man, that Hwang character sure was buttering you up.

{{GM}}Gobbet straightens her hair, and cackles quietly.{{/GM}}

I bet he thinks he's got us all fooled. That murderous little bastard.
We'll see how respectful he is in person.
I'm curious what his offer is.
Hey, chip-truth here, $(l.name).

He messes with you or makes threats, you protect your rep. If you can't do that, the city will stop taking you seriously.
Hey, hey... Don't get me wrong, I'm all for changing it up if we get paid more and end up not getting shot at by as many people.

{{GM}}Gobbet sticks her hand out, rubbing her thumb and fingers together.{{/GM}}

Believe me, I am all about the nuyen.
I have to admit, I find the entire song and dance around face and respect in this country downright farcical.

Results matter. Social graces are nice, but this country is ridiculous.
It's all part of the culture, Racter. Reputation is important.
I admit, I think it's strange as well.
{{GM}}Racter waves a hand in front of his face as if dismissing the idea as obvious.{{/GM}}

Of course, of course. It just seems to be taken to such an excess here.
{{GM}}Racter inclines his head respectfully.{{/GM}}

Thank you. I had begun to think I'd gone mad, to be the only one put off by that much obsequiousness.
We need to tread lightly here, $(l.name). It's certain that our caller will try to ambush us before or during the hand-off with Wright.
All I did was hang up on him.
In Hong Kong, that could be construed as a deadly insult. I would be surprised if he took it lying down.
We had better be. We're almost certainly better-trained and better-equipped than our caller and whatever thugs he can muster, but we don't know their numbers or the terrain.

There are more unknowns here than I'd like.
I don't like this. At all. If we don't step very carefully, we're liable to end up wearing pine boxes or as shark feed. That guy who called is will be out for blood.
Why blood? I just hung up on him.
Sure. And basically said that you didn't even think he was worth talking to on the phone. My dad would've gone after you with a butcher knife if you pulled that on him.
Careful doesn't even cover it, $(l.name). Careful is what you are if you drop a beer bottle. What we have to be is perfect, if we want to get out of this alive. No slips, no mistakes, every shot a hit.
Really? REALLY?! That's what you care about? Come on, $(l.name) - get your head in the game! He's a client, and that's all he is. If we don't look out for ourselves first and foremost, we're going to be pushing up daisies come morning.
I don't like this - not one bit. That guy that called us is gonna make a play before we're done here, and we're gonna be the ones under the gun. By all rights, we should cut and run.
His call wasn't worth my time.
No. And you told him so by hanging up. That means you've slighted him - and if he's the kind of guy I think he is, he'll want to bleed you for that.
Shit, isn't that always the way? Doing shit you don't want to? And to think, I got into the shadows to avoid that kind of responsibility.
I expect our mystery caller will be paying us a visit tonight. I rather hope he puts up a good fight.
If you think we should. As long as we finish the job and get paid, I will be happy.
Always, always. But I'm always eager to test Koschei in new and unexpected situations. Surely, you must respect my dedication to field-testing!
We should take it slow in Ho Chung. Look around. Get a sense of of the place. Otherwise, we may walk blindly into the hornet's nest.
Let's keep our eyes open and look around Ho Chung before going to the meet. I'd rather not charge headlong into an ambush if we can avoid it.
Let's see what we can dig up in Ho Chung - get a feel for the place. At the very least, find out if a pack of armed thugs have come through loaded for combat.
If we're going to be ambushed or double-crossed, somebody out there will probably have seen combat-ready soldiers come through. Let's sniff around before heading to the meet.
I think it is unlikely that the residents of Ho Chung would be unaware of armed men moving through their neighborhood. Let's ask around, and see if we can get a better idea of what kind of situation we're stepping into.
An expensive consumer-grade computer terminal awaits your input.

The display background is set to a screen capture from "Promises in Moonlight." Penelope Wong's radiant face beams at you from a corner of the screen.
This must be Ma's personal terminal.

{{GM}}He smiles.{{/GM}}

Can't think of a better place to dig for dirt on the man.
{{GM}}Log into the computer as a guest.{{/GM}}
A few keystrokes is all it takes to get into the computer's file structure. With the high-tech security door in his apartment, it seems Ma never bothered to encrypt his machine.

An options menu appears on the screen.
{{GM}}Search email.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Search financial records.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Unlock office door.{{/GM}}
You read through Ma's email. Most of it's spam and boring business arrangements, but one detail stands out.
Neville Ma is frequently emailing a woman named Ku Feng. They seem close, exchanging a lot of thinly veiled flirtation.

It appears that Neville has been lavishing Ku Feng with money and affection - expensive gifts, rent checks, miserable attempts at poetry - seeing to it that her every need is met.
Neville's financial records are astoundingly boring, aside from two major things:

He spent next to nothing on his hospital bills, where it appears he only stayed for three days. And he's spending a lot of money on a woman named Ku Feng - jewelry, bills, clothes, and such.
With a push of a button, you unlock the office door on the other side of the room.

An ominous thunk reverberates throughout the cold, steel apartment.
Why, if it isn't Ma's personal terminal.

{{GM}}A sly smile crawls up Is0bel's cheeks. She cracks her knuckles.{{/GM}}

Let's have a look.
This must be Ma's personal terminal. Not a bad place to do some digging.
The terminal's display lights up at your approach.
The terminal's display lights up at your approach.

The system's still in lockdown. You won't be able to access Ma's personal files without hacking into it.
A fist of Rock.
M79 Grenade Launcher
Ranged Combat: A classic tube-fired grenade launcher.
A pair of triad gangsters block your path.
M-men, help me!

{{GM}}The words start pouring out of Rooster's mouth so quickly that they blur together.{{/GM}}

You free me, get me away from here, and I guarantee you'll be rewarded. Nuyen, favors, power... Whatever you want!
{{GM}}The two guards exchange a look, then turn back to Rooster, smiling.{{/GM}}

Actually, we're liking the position we're in now. You, begging at our feet...
The idea that maybe, once you're gone, we can move up the chain...
Y'know, Rocko here's plenty qualified to take *your* seat.

In fact, we might as well make sure you don't make it outta here alive.
{{GM}}Rooster looks up at them, irate. His fury fizzles upon spotting the thugs' various and ample gutlery.{{/GM}}

N-no! Why, I can... I can make you rich! I--
Easy there. Let's not make this a scene. We go our way, you go yours.
Sounds like you two are looking to get hurt.
{{GM}}Attack the triads.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The gangster looks you over.{{/GM}}

No ink, no suits... You one of them runners?
Shit - a runner? Don't let $(l.him) take off with Rooster!

{{GM}}He reaches for his weapon.{{/GM}}

GET 'EM!
The dwarf is the queen of her little hive - a nattering swarm of snitches, stoolies, and spies.

Avarice gleams in her eyes. They dart around you, taking in morsels of information so quickly they appear to vibrate. She mumbles little mnemonic rhymes to herself as she tags and labels you all.
Ah yes, the new-on-the-scene runner, $(l.name)! Nnn-nnn...

{{GM}}She rocks in place, humming a soft reply to herself.{{/GM}}

My friend in Heoi said you'd be coming to see me.
How did you know who I am?
We're here for information about the man with the plastic face. Our mutual friend said you had some.
I have a friend too, and she says you're the one to see about finding Lee Tai-lung.
Magic! Nnn-nnn...

{{GM}}She smiles, giggling to herself a bit and hums her little hum.{{/GM}}

Actually, my friend told me what to look out for. You're rather distinct.

And she told me what you'd be looking for.
{{GM}}Xiaozhi's eyes widen with the joy of her job.{{/GM}}

Very timely intel. Verrry timely. I have your plastic man's complete, up-to-the minute itinerary! Where he'll be, who he'll be with, security coverage - the deluxe package.
{{GM}}Xiaozhi's eyes widen with the joy of her job and she hums her little hum.{{/GM}}

Very timely intel. Verrry timely. I have his complete, up-to-the minute itinerary! Where he'll be, who he'll be with, security coverage - the deluxe package.
How much for this deluxe package?
Let me have it.
You must be very good at your job!
Unfortunately, the deluxe package is no longer for sale - nor is any information about him. So sorry!

{{GM}}Xiaozhi's expression oozes with cunning.{{/GM}}

I received another offer... a better offer... Hnnnnn... to take it off the market... just before you arrived.
From who?
From whom?
Lee Tai-lung's client. I believe you know the company.

{{GM}}She fumbles with her fingers a bit.{{/GM}}

I feel really bad about this but the offer was too good to pass up.

Way too good.
You don't want to work with Josephine Tsang.
You haven't heard my offer yet - you give me what I want and I don't kill you right where you stand.
Information brokers are dime a dozen in this town. I'll find another.
Did Kindly Cheng set me up?
That's the thing, $(l.name) - I do. Attaching myself to her is smart. Very smart. Nnn-nnn...

Tsang's big in Hong Kong and getting bigger. She's already on the Executive Council and is a front-runner for the next Chairperson position.

{{GM}}Xiaozhi fumbles with her fingers a bit more. She can't make eye contact with you.{{/GM}}

And all I need to do is make sure you don't walk out of here alive.
Ambush!
{{GM}}Xiaozhi fumbles with her fingers a bit more. She can't make eye contact with you.{{/GM}}

Yeah, I was worried you were going to say something like that.

So I prepared for it in advance.
That's the thing, $(l.name) - you won't.

Tsang's big in Hong Kong and getting bigger. She's already on the Executive Council and she's a front-runner to be the next Chairperson. No one's going to help you here.

Attaching myself to her is smart. Very smart. Nnn-nnn...
No, $(l.name). Mrs. Tsang set you up.

She's big in Hong Kong and getting bigger. She's already the front-runner to be the next Chairperson of the Executive Council.

Attaching myself to her is smart. Very smart. Nnn-nnn...
{{GM}}Xiaozhi's expression oozes with cunning.{{/GM}}

I would love to! Absolutely love to. But unfortunately, I received another offer... a better offer... Nnn-nnn... to take it off the market... just before you arrived.
{{GM}}Xiaozhi's expression oozes with cunning.{{/GM}}

You are very kind to say so. Nnn-nnn...

Yes, very very kind.
Unfortunately, I don't believe we can transact business today.

I received another offer... a better offer... Nnn-nnn... to take it off the market... just before you arrived.
Oh yes, I am! I definitely am! Nnn-nnn...

{{GM}}Xiaozhi's eyes widen with the joy of her job and she hums her little hum.{{/GM}}

Very timely intel. Verrry timely. I have his complete, up-to-the minute itinerary! Where he'll be, who he'll be with, security coverage - the deluxe dackage.
Vanguard Mercenary
As you round the corner, you hear voices speaking just loudly enough for you to make out coherent sentences. The speakers are definitely not local - they speak with a slight slavic accent, and their clothing is heavily armored.

Around them are a number of crates and boxes, all mostly filled. It looks like the group is packing up.
Yaroslav says the boat will be ready tomorrow morning. He's gotten everything arranged with the port authority. We move the goods to his warehouse, he'll handle loading them onto the ship, and we can get paid right then and there.

{{GM}}The ork spits on the ground.{{/GM}}

I'll be glad to be done with this filthy place.
I will too. I hate having to hide in these damn drains. It stinks down here. I can hear the devil rats running down the walkways. It's a mess, and it's disgraceful. We shouldn't have to put up with this bullshit.

And Aleksandr still isn't back from his little trip! We'll have to leave him behind if he doesn't get back soon.
I know, Galina. Until Andrey says we're in the clear from the triads, we can't be seen with the goods on the street. They find us, we go back to Vladivostok in sausage casings. Those Red Dragon mudaki don't screw around when it comes to protecting their turf.

Who knows... Maybe Aleksandr was stupid and they caught him. Either way, we'll have to lug this crap through the drains for a few klicks.
The ork woman sniffs the air suspiciously, and her eyes dart toward the dark tunnel you stand in.

Before you have a chance to get out of sight, she locks eyes with you.
Several boxes near the two women bear a distinctive label: a magpie in flight. The same emblem you saw stamped on Magpie's equipment in her shop.

The ork woman sniffs the air suspiciously, and her eyes dart toward the dark tunnel you stand in. Before you have a chance to get out of sight, she locks eyes with you.
{{GM}}The ork lifts her chin as she regards you, cracking her knuckles.{{/GM}}

What have we here? A curious little pest, come looking for things that don't concern $(l.him). What do we do with pests, Galina?
{{GM}}Galina puts a hand on her shotgun's barrel.{{/GM}}

We break them, Vasilisa. And then we hammer a spike through each of their throats, so anyone who sees their bodies knows not to meddle in our affairs.

I suggest you stay where you are, pest.
The Whampoan Elders know I'm down here. You start a fight, you're going to have every drone and cyber-junkie on those streets crawling up your ass.
I'm not here to meddle in anything. I'm just looking for a serial killer.
{{GM}}Some of the cockiness goes out of the Russian woman's eyes. She shifts back and forth nervously, shooting a glance at the ork. Finally, she lifts her shotgun, sighting along the barrel.{{/GM}}

You think we're afraid of those little worms? You think we're afraid of YOU? Don't make me laugh. We could be out of here before they ever realized you're missing.
You think those crazy chipheads will give a shit about what happens down here? I don't think so.
{{GM}}Duncan sneers at them, spitting on the ground.{{/GM}}

Make a move, shithead. Give me a reason to put you down. You thugs think you're so hard... I kill trash like you every damn day.
{{GM}}Racter chuckles lightly.{{/GM}}

You're vory v zakone. Thieves. You steal and rob for your living. We're shadowrunners. We KILL people for our living.

Which of us do you think will come out on top in this fight?
That's a shotgun. This...

{{GM}}Is0bel gestures at her rifle.{{/GM}}

...is a sniper rifle. And woman, there is a lot of open ground between the two of us. Try your luck. See what it gets you.
Oh goody. A gunfight in a sewer. Just what I wanted to do today.

Come on, lady. Stop posturing. We're not here for you.
I don't want a fight.
I don't care what you're doing down here, or what you've stolen. I just want to find the person murdering the Whampoan Elders.
What makes you think you have a choice?
Because I know what happened to Aleksandr.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Gang{{/CC}} Andrey is obviously the vor here. You're just enforcers. And he doesn't want a scene while you're in Whampoa Garden.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Academic{{/CC}} Look around you. These storm drains act like resonance chambers. The exits on the streets will be like the mouth of a trumpet. They'll care if they hear gunfire on their turf.
{{CC}}Strength: $(story.global_skillcheck_hard){{/CC}} Try it. I'll feed your face to your friend over there.
Hope and good will?
{{GM}}Vasilisa's eyes narrow. She hisses her words through her teeth.{{/GM}}

If you've so much as touched him, your suffering will become the stuff of legend, I promise. Where is he?
Chopped up in a pile of body parts.
The serial killer I'm looking for killed him.
Aww, poor baby. You gonna cry about your lost friend?
You piece of shit! What did you do to him?!
Nothing. The serial killer I'm looking for killed him.
A serial killer? Why should I believe you?
Do you know anybody sane who'd make a pile of severed body parts? Because there's one down here in the drains.
You're right. That is the act of someone very sick.

We can talk peacefully. But keep your hands where I can see them.
Why should we believe you? I think you're just trying to save your own skin.
Right forearm. Lighthouse tattoo. Russian words underneath that. On the back of the hand, a skull inside a square. Sound familiar?
{{GM}}Vasilisa and Galina exchange a significant glance.{{/GM}}

Okay, so you've seen his arm. That doesn't prove anything. You could have seen it on him!
I'm getting pretty tired of this. Down the way in the drains, there's a pile of body parts. His arm is in it. You can go see for yourself.
You wanna walk down the way and pull his arm out of the corpse pile I found, go right ahead. I wasn't about to cart a severed arm around just in case I needed it.
{{GM}}Vasilisa's eyes bulge, along with the veins in her neck.{{/GM}}

You piece of shit! You're dead!
{{GM}}Vasilisa shoots Galina a sidelong glance.{{/GM}}

$+(l.he)'s right, Galina. Andrey would have our heads if we had to break cover before the shipment was ready.
Shit.

{{GM}}Galina lowers the shotgun, though her posture remains wary.{{/GM}}

You don't care about what we're doing?
I have a job to do. This is incidental.
So what do you want from us, then?
{{GM}}Galina laughs.{{/GM}}

You think I'm stupid? You think you can fast-talk me with some stupid...
$+(l.he)'s right, Galina. You know how sounds can echo through these tunnels.
{{GM}}Galina's eyes go wide as you speak.{{/GM}}

You think... You think I'm scared of you?!
If you aren't, you're an even bigger idiot than you seem. Stand down, or face the consequences.
In a word, yes.
{{GM}}Vasilisa snorts derisively.{{/GM}}

You're an idiot.

Kill $(l.him).
You think I give a shit about what you're doing down here? None of that concerns me. So why the hell should we let you live?
Well, you've found some, friend. Us.

You think you can just walk out of here after finding us? Think again.
{{GM}}Vasilisa grunts, by way of greeting.{{/GM}}

You again. What now?
Did you have anything to do with the Whampoans being killed?
You stole Magpie's equipment from her shop. Did you kill her, too?
Where was your friend headed when he disappeared?
You took Magpie's keycards, didn't you?
I found Aleksandr. He's dead.
Is there anything you can tell me about the murders that I might not know?
Are you stupid? We're hiding down here so the Whampoans don't know we've stolen from them. Why would we draw attention to ourselves?
You'd kill a Whampoan who got in your way, though.
You expect me to believe the Vory don't kill people when it's convenient?
Of course we would. But they're not in our way. We just need the storm drains around here to move our gear through Kowloon without being spotted. Why should we interfere with them?
Naturally. But it's not convenient when you're trying to hide, genius. We're only down here out of necessity - we're waiting until we're clear to move our cargo to the Hung Hom docks.
Are you kidding me? And risk the Whampoans coming after us? No.

We heard she'd left but her gear was still in the shop, so we liberated it. What's it to you?
It doesn't matter to me. Do you know what happened to her?
I'm going to have to tell the Elders about this.
Like she said - we heard an empty shop was full of things we could fence easy enough, so we broke in and liberated anything we could sell. I have no idea what happened to her. I don't live in Whampoa Garden, and I don't want to.
{{GM}}Vasilisa snorts derisively.{{/GM}}

You think we'll let you do that? You seemed smarter than that.

Kill $(l.him).
He found a keycard for a stockroom located behind Mrs. Yang's Jade Mountain restaurant.

He went to check it out - we thought there might be something valuable in there. A little extra money for our time spent down here in the drains, neh?
Do you have another key to the stockroom?
Yes. There were several of them in box. We just popped the lock off and took them all.

{{GM}}Vasilisa tosses you a keycard.{{/GM}}

Here. We don't have time for this. We have to move this gear. You want to play detective? Go right ahead.
Yes, we did. Aleksandr took one earlier. He said he wanted to sweep the stockroom, see if there was anything worth stealing in it.

{{GM}}Vasilisa tosses you a keycard.{{/GM}}

Here. We don't have time for this. We have to move this gear. You want to play detective? Go right ahead.
Yes, we did. Aleksandr took one earlier. He said he wanted to sweep the stockroom, see if there was anything worth stealing in it.

{{GM}}Vasilisa tosses you a keycard.{{/GM}}

We don't have time to wait for him. If you see him, tell him to catch the hell up.
What? How did he die?
He stumbled on someone he shouldn't have.
Suka!

{{GM}}She sighs heavily.{{/GM}}

I don't have time to deal with this right now. But... thank you for telling me anyway.
You think we get out a lot? I wouldn't have even known there were murders if I hadn't bothered to come out to get some soykaf last week.

It's none of our business, and isn't our problem, and I like it that way.
Quick Strike
The adept gains a 0 AP cost attack that does 8 DMG to the target. Pierces up to 2 Armor. Shares a cooldown with Lightning Strike.
Security Station Card for level 49: Research
A bright red card with a large black "49" printed on it.
Shock
Stuns the target with an electrified smack.
Dressed one step above a street ganger. Grants +3 HP.
Inferno
Fire controlled by the spirit and directed at one target. Target takes ongoing -10 HP DMG for 4 RNDS.
Inferno: HP -10 per RND
Comfortable breathable vest, with pockets for all your tools.
Aim III
Increases the target's to hit chance by 12-18%. Does not stack, nor affect AOE abilities. Lasts 4 RNDS.
Baseball Bat
Melee: Knock 'em out of the park with this old-fashioned slugger.
As the lab doors slide open, you come face to face with a rag-tag group of people. Their gear is mismatched, they wear no uniforms, and the mixure of technical gear and heavy armor indicates they're prepared for anything.

These are quite obviously Shadowrunners.
{{GM}}A pale, assault-rifle toting human glares at you from inside the room. He looks ready to raise his assault rifle, but doesn't.{{/GM}}

Hey, Opti... I think I figured out why the alarms were going off.
{{GM}}The man named Opti is draped in charms and magical fetishes - particularly raven feathers. He regards you for a moment, and shakes his head in disgust.{{/GM}}

A damn near perfect operation, ruined because you had to charge in here, guns blazing. Christ. How's it coming, Bull?
Huh? What the--

{{GM}}The ork's cyberdeck suddenly starts to spark and smoke. Yelping, he yanks the cord out of his head and drops the deck.{{/GM}}

God dammit! You broke my concentration, you son of a...
Uh... Sorry, I guess?
Shit happens sometimes.
Ouch. That looks like it'll be expensive to fix.
You guess? YOU GUESS?! I should wring your--

{{GM}}Bull starts to lunge forward toward you, but the woman next to him holds out a hand and he stops.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The woman is as tightly wound as a coiled snake who's about to strike. Her knuckles, knees, and boots are covered in blood.{{/GM}}

Cool it. Getting in a firefight here won't do us any good. Jarl, that goes for you too.
{{GM}}Duncan hefts his assault rifle, fixing the other shadowrunners with a cold stare.{{/GM}}

Wise choice, lady. Definitely a better move than trying to throw down.
{{GM}}Gaichu hisses between clenched teeth, breath whistling over their sharpened points.{{/GM}}

Listen to your friend, ork. We've murdered our way here. You are simply more obstacles in our way.
{{GM}}Gobbet balls up her fists, placing them against her hips. Widening her stands, she puffs out her chest, beaming proudly.{{/GM}}

Awesome! Now we can be friends!
{{GM}}Racter taps a few commands on his bracer, and Koschei trains its guns on the ork.{{/GM}}

Let's all keep calm, shall we? Accidents can happen.
{{GM}}Is0bel deliberately slides her rifle into a position where it can be brought to bear against the other team in an instant.{{/GM}}

Smart move.
You asshole! This isn't... You think that... ARGH!

{{GM}}The apoplectic ork reaches into his jacket, pulling a pistol halfway out before the woman standing next to him extends a hand.

Reluctantly, he stops.{{/GM}}
Expensive, nothing! This deck's a custom build I put together myself! You think that I'm about to let you--

{{GM}}The apoplectic ork is cut off as the woman standing next to him holds out a hand.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Jarl spends a few moments scrutinizing you, when his face suddenly lights up.{{/GM}}

Wait a minute... I recognize you. You're $(l.name), right?

Your name's all over the shadows of Hong Kong. From what I hear, you've been doing a lot of work for Kindly Cheng.
Is that right?

{{GM}}Opti looks you up and down, a crooked grin erupting across his face.{{/GM}}

For such a big shot, you sure roll loud.
We all have our off days.
It gets the job done.
The more guards we take out on the way up, the fewer there are on the way out.
Based on the sound of it, Knight-Errant's having a hell of an off-day too.

{{GM}}Tentatively, Bull smiles. It's a rueful grin, offset by occasional glances of sadness at his deck's smoking carcass.{{/GM}}
Honestly, we very nearly screwed this job, too. We went up to the executive penthouses looking for access codes to the lab.

{{GM}}Opti produces a keycard and holds it up so you can see.{{/GM}}
Pulled this thing out of a locked box in Hardingham's penthouse. We were sure it would open the door to this lab.

{{GM}}Opti snorts and stares disgustedly at the card.{{/GM}}

Nope. Had to cut through the lock to get in here.
{{GM}}Racter gives you a significant look. He speaks quietly, so that only you can hear.{{/GM}}

That key is almost certainly for the private safe where Taylor and Hardingham are keeping the auto-repair circuitry. We need it.
{{GM}}While he hasn't made out the words exchanged, the street samurai seems to have discerned that you're discussing something amongst yourselves, and tenses up.{{/GM}}

Hope you're not planning something stupid over there...
{{CC}}Charisma: 3{{/CC}} If that keycard's worthless, would you mind if I held on to it? Might come in handy.
{{CC}}¥500{{/CC}} I'll give you 500 nuyen for that keycard.
Do you think I could have that keycard?
{{GM}}Opti considers this for a long moment, and then tosses you the keycard.{{/GM}}

Sure. It's not doing us any good. Consider it a peace offering.
{{GM}}Jarl glances around at the rest of his team and then at you.{{/GM}}

I don't want to interrupt, but we still have a big problem. We're both here for the laser.

What now?
{{GM}}Duncan waves a dismissive hand toward Bull and Opti.{{/GM}}

Listen, we can argue about this all day, but K-E will be closing in on us any second now.

I say we all go out together, and sort this out in calmer seas.
{{GM}}Bull looks at the rest of his team. One by one, they nod their assent.{{/GM}}

Right, that works for us.
{{GM}}Gobbet rolls her eyes, throwing up her hands in defeat.{{/GM}}

We can stand around here and compare dick sizes, or we can leave as one group.

Then sort this out when K-E isn't sending armed goons to fill us with holes.
{{GM}}Gaichu cocks his head, listening at sounds that are beyond your range of hearing.{{/GM}}

As we discuss this, Ares is sending soldiers to kill us. I propose we take the laser - together - and escape.

From there, we can determine the best course of action.
{{GM}}Racter glances at his bracer. Simultaneously, Koschei's motors whine into high gear, as if it's preparing for something.{{/GM}}

We don't have time for this discussion. The signal strength of the Ares security forces indicates they're closing in on us.

I suggest we leave in one group, and discuss this when not under direct threat.
{{GM}}Is0bel raises her hand timidly, holding it there for an uncomfortable moment before she speaks.{{/GM}}

The longer we stand here, the closer Ares kill teams get. We all go out in a group, and figure out what to do when we're not all about to be killed. Deal?
Come with me - let's decide who gets the laser when we're not all about to get shot.
Let me hold on to the laser for now, and we can discuss this when Knight-Errant isn't about to crash our party.
{{GM}}Opti considers this for a long moment, and then tosses you the keycard. You toss him a certified credstick in return.{{/GM}}

Sure. It's not doing us any good. Consider it a peace offering.
After my deck gets slagged, and you barge in on our run?

{{GM}}Bull shakes his head.{{/GM}}

No, I don't think so.
{{GM}}Is0bel gives you a significant look. She speaks quietly, so that only you can hear.{{/GM}}

I think the keycard he has is for the private safe Racter was talking about. We should ask them for it.
{{GM}}Duncan gives you a significant look. He speaks quietly, so that only you can hear.{{/GM}}

If they pulled that keycard from Hardingham's penthouse, then it's got to be for that private safe Racter mentioned. We should ask them for it.
{{GM}}Gobbet gives you a significant look. She speaks quietly, so that only you can hear.{{/GM}}

Boss, I got good money on that keycard being the one that'll open the private safe Racter mentioned. We should ask them for it.
{{GM}}Gaichu glances at you, his lips pursed. He speaks quietly, so that only you can hear.{{/GM}}

That keycard is almost certainly for the safe Racter told us about. We should make certain we get it.
It's very likely that the keycard Opti is carrying is the one that will allow you access to Hardingham and Taylor's private safe, where they've stored the auto-repair circuitry.
{{GM}}Jarl cuts loose with a deep, emphatic laugh.{{/GM}}

You know what? You're all right. I like your attitude.
{{GM}}Dizzy smiles crookedly.{{/GM}}

Y'know, there's a strange kind of logic to that attitude...

If it works, it works.
Well damn...

{{GM}}Blinking a few times, Dizzy looks you over. There's a touch of awe in her voice when she speaks.{{/GM}}

I didn't expect to run into such heavy hitters on our first run out here.
You have me at a disadvantage. Who are you?
Learn to adapt.
How'd you get tangled up in this?
I'm Dizzy. The guy with the rifle is The Jarl.

{{GM}}Dizzy stage whispers at you, cupping a hand next to her mouth.{{/GM}}

We try not to use the definite article. It sounds silly.
{{GM}}Jarl - or The Jarl, whichever - is nonplussed by Dizzy's antics.{{/GM}}

It's a title, Dizzy. It deserves a 'the' before it.
{{GM}}Dizzy gestures at the shaman and the ork.{{/GM}}

Those two are Opti and Bull. Magic and tech support.

So... You ever heard of us?
Can't say that I have.
A little, yeah. You operate mostly in the UCAS, right?
Well, I'm the best Ork decker you never met - that's the important bit.

We need to get a move-on, though. K-E will be here any minute.
Not so fast. What about the prototype?
{{GM}}Bull shakes his head and snorts crudely.{{/GM}}

We can argue about this here, or we can try and get out of here before we get killed.

If it makes you feel better, you hang onto it until we get out of harm's way.
{{GM}}Duncan nods his approval.{{/GM}}

Yeah, I think we'll do that. I just wanna get out of here.
Listen, what's your way out?

We were going to rappel over to the Federated-Boeing building next door, but with all the racket... Well, I think we'd probably get shot off the line.
We're going out underground. Down an elevator shaft, and over to an MTR station.
Come with us. We're taking the elevator shaft to a collapsed MTR station.
I didn't even know that was there. Shoulda done better legwork before we got here...

{{GM}}Bull reloads his pistol, snapping it back into the holster with a loud click.{{/GM}}

We'll follow. More guns couldn't hurt, right? You lead the way, we'll be right behind you.
Suddenly, there is the blare of alarms; red lights click on overhead as an accompaniment to the noise.

You also hear a sudden hissing sound, rather like a tire deflating - and with that sound comes an acrid odor hanging heavy in the air.
They're gassing us! Look, over there, it's coming out of that vent!
If my deck wasn't fried, I'd be able to jack in and stop it. I hope you brought a deck or some drones...

If you haven't, we've got to get out of here, fast!
{{GM}}Gaichu nods his acceptance.{{/GM}}

That is an acceptable outcome. For the moment, anyway.
{{GM}}Is0bel shifts back and forth on her feet. She nods her head impatiently.{{/GM}}

Yeah, fine. Whatever.
{{GM}}Racter nods, seeming to approve.{{/GM}}

Very good. We should leave as soon as possible, though.
{{GM}}Gobbet throws her hands up.{{/GM}}

Sure, whatever. Let's just get the hell out of here.
Yeah. I'm from all over - don't really stay in one place much. The other three are all from the Great Lakes area.

{{GM}}Ruefully, Jarl glances at the rest of his team.{{/GM}}

This was supposed to be an easy trip overseas for us... Do this job, maybe two or three more, and fly home.
{{GM}}Jarl puts one finger to his ear. He cocks his head, listening intently. After a moment, he lets out a string of half-uttered curses.{{/GM}}

We're running out of time. We've got to move, and soon.
Well, I guess there's nothing we can do about it now.

{{GM}}Opti quickly checks over his gear and weapons, reassuring himself they're all still in working order.{{/GM}}

Can we get a move on? We're all gonna be up shit creek if we don't get out of here.
We flew in from Seattle for this job. We're planning a few more before we head home, but this isn't exactly the best start to our little vacation...

{{GM}}Opti quickly checks over his gear and weapons, reassuring himself they're all still in working order.{{/GM}}

Listen, I hate to bring down the mood, but we need to get the hell out of here.
The other shadowrunners huddle up. Their voices are loud enough that you can hear them, even through the glass door.

They don't seem to have noticed you yet.
Christ on a crutch, that was nasty...

{{GM}}The ork wipes sweat from his brow with the back of one hand.{{/GM}}

Jarl, is that the last of them?
Looks like it, Bull. My C-12 wrecked the stairwell, so we're safe from backup via that route.

{{GM}}He hands a canteen to the human woman next to him.{{/GM}}

Dizzy, how you doing?
{{GM}}Taking a long drink from the canteen, the woman breathes a deep sigh of relief before tossing it back to Jarl.{{/GM}}

Remind me again why we went to the executive level before getting to the lab? I'm all for a brawl, but pulling four Knight-Errant adepts off of Opti isn't my idea of a party.
{{GM}}Dizzy points an accusatory finger at the shaman.{{/GM}}

You, sir, need to practice your martial arts.
{{GM}}Opti raises his hands placatingly.{{/GM}}

We had to go up there, Dizzy. Without the keycards to get into the lab, we're as good as dead. Bull could've hacked the door, but his deck got slagged after you threw that Rigger into him and broke his concentration.
Hey, who the hell are you guys?
{{GM}}Continue listening.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Slowly back away.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The ork jumps and whirls around to face you.{{/GM}}

Ahh! Sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!
{{GM}}Bull's hand is on his gun, but he doesn't draw it.{{/GM}}

Who the hell are you? You're not security.
I could ask you the same thing.
You're a regular genius, you are.
I'm the one who managed to stay quiet on his shadowrun.
Yeah, sure... But let's get inside first. Thats stairwell isn't the only way into this area.

{{GM}}Dizzy gestures toward the door.{{/GM}}

Bull, pop the door so we don't get shot in the back.
No arguments here.

{{GM}}Bull waves an RFID keycard at the door, but it only buzzes in denial. He glances at the keycard in irritation.{{/GM}}

What the hell? This card doesn't work!
Seems like you're in a bit of a bind.
You set off an alarm and don't even have a way out? Amateurs.
Yeah... It looks like.

{{GM}}Opti shoots an angry look at bull's keycard.{{/GM}}

Uh... Would it be too much to ask to have you open the door?
{{GM}}Despite the worry on the faces of his compatriots, the human named Jarl is unconcerned. He glances casually around the room, rifle slung.{{/GM}}

Plans, first contact with the enemy... You know that hackneyed old phrase. Where there's ammo, there's a way out.

So are you going to let us in or what?
{{GM}}Despite the worry on the faces of his compatriots, the human named Jarl is unconcerned. He glances casually around the room, rifle slung.{{/GM}}

Har har. Are you going to open the door for us, or what?
Yeah, yeah... So you got lucky and we didn't.

{{GM}}Dizzy looks around the office. Her body's as tense as a coiled snake about to strike.{{/GM}}

You think you could open this door for us, since Bull's keycard isn't working?
Okay, okay... We'll have plenty of blame to place later. Right now, we have to get the hell out of here, nab that prototype, and clear out before they get more soldiers down to this level.

{{GM}}Bull tilts his neck to one side and then the other. Each time a rippling pop runs down his spine.{{/GM}}

We've got a job to do, people, so let's get cracking.
{{GM}}The runner named Jarl seems to have noticed you, finally. He gestures in your direction.{{/GM}}

Hey, Bull? Looks like we've got some company in the lab.
{{GM}}Turning around, the Ork decker regards you quizzically.{{/GM}}

Son of a bitch. Guess you guys got here first. Tell you what, we'll come in there and we can talk this over.
{{GM}}Bull waves an RFID keycard at the door, but it only buzzes in denial. He glances at the keycard in irritation, and then turns his eyes to you.{{/GM}}

Uh... Hey. Would you mind letting us in? I'd rather not be trapped in here when Knight-Errant backup arrives.
Yeah, okay. Give me a second to open the door.
No, I don't think so. Not until you tell me what you're doing here.
What the hell do you need to get into this lab for?
Probably the same thing as you. That lab has a laser prototype, yeah? That's what we're here for. It just looks like you got to it first.

{{GM}}Opti glances over his shoulder nervously.{{/GM}}

Do you think we could have this conversation inside?
In a minute, bird-boy. How hot on your ass is Knight-Errant, anyway? It sucks that you're trapped out there, but I don't want guards crawling all over us, either.
Not yet, you can't. You throw some C-12 down a stairwell, and now you want to get in here with us?

{{GM}}Duncan shakes his head vehemently.{{/GM}}

I'm not letting anybody in here until I know we're not gonna be collateral damage, thanks.
{{GM}}Gaichu sniffs the air tentatively.{{/GM}}

Between the blast and dust, I can't smell or hear anyone else, but that doesn't mean that you don't have guards right behind you. How close on your heels were the Knight-Errant troops?
{{GM}}Racter checks his bracer, lips curling downward.{{/GM}}

I can't decrypt most of the radio chatter, but you certainly set off a hornet's nest of activity. Are they close behind you?
You guys... You... Uh...

{{GM}}Is0bel shrinks back a little, looking away from the runners. She finally blurts out a coherent sentence, words tumbling over each other in a rush to get out.{{/GM}}

Do I need to reload my rifle?!
Given the shitstorm we set off by going to the executive penthouses first, we probably have a few minutes. They'll be too busy trying to figure out what we were doing up there.

{{GM}}Jarl runs a hand through his hair and shrugs.{{/GM}}

Hardingham and Taylor's apartments are pretty trashed, so they'll have to figure out what we're really after before they can respond again.
Why were you up in the executive penthouses?
Okay, let me open the door.
I'd gotten some intel that Hardingham and Taylor would be out tonight, but they had a secure safe down here.

We figured that would be where they kept the prototype, and the key would also work on the lab door.
{{GM}}Bull looks mournfully at the keycard in his hand.{{/GM}}

If wishes were fishes... Looks like we made the wrong move, heading up there first.
{{GM}}Racter gives you a significant look. He speaks quietly, so that only you can hear.{{/GM}}

I know Taylor and Hardingham. That key is almost certainly for the private safe where they're keeping the auto-repair circuitry.

We need to let these runners in so I can get that key.
Okay, we'll let them in.
Let's find out if they're willing to give up the key.
I don't like this idea.
{{GM}}You gesture at Bull, getting his attention.{{/GM}}

Yeah? You made a decision yet? I'm getting kinda nervous out here.
I need the keycard you've got.
Give me your keycard, and we'll let you in.
Well, I don't know what it goes to, but it sure as hell doesn't get us inside that lab.

Sure, I guess.
I understand your feelings. But one thing I've learned intimately from my time in Hong Kong is that small actions can come back to aid or haunt everyone. Your reputation is everything.

If we don't let them in, they will have every reason to identify us as the thieves, and Ares will know our frame job is a fake. Our reputation will suffer, and we may not be able to find work - especially if other fixers find out we left these runners to die.
What if they double-cross us?
They'll just get in the way.
Is this really what you want?
That's a risk we have to take. It'd be worse leaving them out there.

One way or another, we have to make sure Ares can't question them.
Okay, I'm convinced. I'll open the door.
I don't like it... But I guess we don't have much choice.
Then we do what I've always done in the past: make up a plan on the fly, watch it go horribly awry, something explodes, and we go home and eat some cake.

Seriously. The cake is an important step in the healing process.
Then we do what Knight-Errant didn't: we put them down and get the hell out of the building before anyone else is the wiser.

Better that than blowing the job, right?
Then they're an impediment to completing the job, so we handle them like any other obsticle.

We kill them, and keep working.
If they are foolish enough to double cross us, we kill them.

Really, it's not so different than what would happen if we left them there, but we can ensure our cover stays intact.
Yeah. Just like you did, when you showed up in Victoria Harbour.

Seriously, they're not as green as you were. Look at them... Whatever other failings they might have, they look like they can handle themselves in a fight. And if they can't? Too bad for them - I tried to do the right thing.
Maybe so, but if they do, they're gonna be the ones catching the bullets rather than us. At least this way we'll be giving them a fighting chance, you know?

Let's give 'em a roll of the dice, see how they do.
Really? The ones who just gunned down a Knight-Errant squad after tossing plastic explosives down a stairwell?

Say what you will, they don't seem like the kind who are new to a fight. At least if we open the door, we'll be giving them a chance.
And if they do, they'll get killed, and we'll still be better off than we are now.

Let's make certain they have a fighting chance. If they die, at least they won't be able to tell Ares about us.
What of it, if they do? If they die, at least we can be certain they won't have told anyone about our involvement in this heist.

Better a fighting chance than to allow them to be cut down like animals.
It's not about what any of us 'want'. It's about what's best for the team, the job, and our reputation.

It's really the only option we have.
That's what I want, hell yeah! A super awesome team-up with another runner team, against one of the biggest and scariest megacorporations out there?

That's a hell of a story to be able to tell later, don't you think?
It's what's best. I'd rather not have to make a choice like this at all, but we can't risk leaving them out there.
Want to? Yes. I'd rather help people with circumstances similar to our own rather than leave them to die.

It does help that it's beneficial to us, though.
Yes. This is the best option for the team and for our future. Any other choice presents an unacceptable amount of risk.
I hear you, $(l.name), I really do. But if Ares finds out from them that we're the thieves, our frame job will never stick. The Yellow Lotus won't pay us.

And it gets worse. Once word gets out that we hung these people out to dry, nobody's going to trust us, and work will dry up. Hong Kong isn't Seattle - loyalty toward your fellows matters a hell of a lot here.
This isn't Seattle, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). Perceptions about loyalty matter a lot more here - especially loyalty to your own class of people. If we let them get killed, word's gonna get out. Nobody'll trust us, and we won't be getting decent work any more.

Even if you don't care about that, there's no way this frame job will stick if Ares captures them. They'll know it wasn't the Yellow Lotus that was in here.
I understand where you're coming from, but we have to. If Ares picks them up, the job will be screwed - Ares will know it was us and not the Yellow Lotus in here, and we won't get paid.

Beyond that, we'd be killing these people. The streets won't trust us if we don't show we respect our own class of people... And without work, I might as well be back in the Walled City. That can't happen.
{{GM}}Racter glances at the runners before looking back at you.{{/GM}}

I understand, but I have three problems with leaving them out there. First, I won't get my auto-repair circuits. Second, when Ares tortures them, they'll find out it was us and not the Yellow Lotus in here, and the job will be blown. Third, if we leave them to die, word will get out, and we'll stop getting work. Loyalty is incredibly important here in Hong Kong.
{{GM}}Is0bel gives you a significant look. She speaks quietly, so that only you can hear.{{/GM}}

I think that's probably the keycard for the private safe Racter was talking about. We should let them in, if for no other reason than to get him that auto-repair circuitry. I don't like the idea of them getting killed just because we couldn't be bothered to open a door, either.
{{GM}}Gobbet gives you a significant look. She speaks quietly, so that only you can hear.{{/GM}}

Boss, I got good money on that keycard being the one that'll open the private safe Racter mentioned. We really should get that for him... And I guess I don't want these guys to get killed, either. I'm full up on my angry, vengeful ghost quota.
{{GM}}Duncan gives you a significant look. He speaks quietly, so that only you can hear.{{/GM}}

If they pulled that keycard from Taylor or Hardingham's penthouse, then it's got to be for that private safe Racter mentioned. Even beyond the fact that it'll let us get the auto-repair circuits, we should let them in just because it's the right thing to do. I don't want their deaths on my conscience.
{{GM}}Gaichu glances at you, his lips pursed. He speaks quietly, so that only you can hear.{{/GM}}

That keycard is almost certainly for the safe Racter told us about. We should make certain we get that keycard... And as much as it pains me to say it, letting them in is the right thing to do. We all live on the wrong side of the law, and I have to respect the similarity of our circumstances.
It's very likely that the keycard Bull is carrying is the one that will allow you access to Hardingham and Taylor's private safe, where they should be keeping the auto-repair circuitry.

It seems wise to let the other runners in, if for no other reason than to get that keycard.
{{GM}}Get Bull's attention.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Duncan speaks quietly, so that other runner team can't hear.{{/GM}}

We've got to let those people in. I went legit so that I could do something to protect people, not so that I could crack heads and have the Star look the other way. If I let these people die out there, I'll be betraying my own conscience.
{{GM}}Is0bel speaks quietly, so that other runner team can't hear.{{/GM}}

I'm not okay with leaving that team out there to die. If they end up dead just because we couldn't be bothered to open a door, we might as well be pulling the trigger on them ourselves. That's not anything I want on my conscience.
{{GM}}Gobbet speaks quietly, so that other runner team can't hear.{{/GM}}

We should let them in, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). If we leave them out there, we're signing their death warrant. I'm okay with killing people in self-defense, but not casual murder. Besides, they might come back to haunt us, and I'm already full up on my vengeful ghost quota.
{{GM}}Racter speaks quietly, so that other runner team can't hear.{{/GM}}

As loathe as I am to slow us down with outside 'help,' letting these runners in is the right thing to do. If we don't, we'll be consigning them to a slow death at the hands of Knight-Errant's torturers. It would be better if we gave them a way out.
At this point, all I want to do is get out of the line of fire.

{{GM}}Dizzy gestures at you.{{/GM}}

C'mon, let us in. I'll keep these jokers from trying to grab the loot and run. The pay on this run isn't worth dying over.
Gingerly, you start to inch away from the door and stay out of sight.

One step. Two.

Unfortunately, like a predator attracted by motion, the man called Jarl notices. His eyes lock with yours.
Hey!

{{GM}}He gestures toward you, body tensing up.{{/GM}}

Who the hell are you!?
People who don't care about your problems.
Seems like we're here for the same job.
{{GM}}Dizzy bristles at his, her neck tensing. After a moment, she exhales a long breath, as if to calm herself.{{/GM}}

I can respect that. But we're getting in that lab.

Hit it, Bull.
Looks that way. I know this was too hot a job for only one fixer to pick up...

{{GM}}Jarl looks you over. He has the clinical expression of a technician evaluating an inanimate object.{{/GM}}

Tell you what, we can talk this over in more detail inside.
{{GM}}Jarl nods in appreciation once the other team is safely inside the lab.{{/GM}}

Thanks a lot. We would have been cut apart out there. Never let yourself get backed into a corner, you know?
Sounds like something went wrong.
This is Ares. You shoulda been more prepared.
Bull's deck got slagged by some Sparky IC. We got surprised by a rigger coming out of a hallway; I did a hip throw on him, but his body hit the jackpoint Bull was using. Some kind of surge hit, the system went to red alert.

Before we knew it, Knight-Errant was crawling all over us.
Rookie mistake, honestly. If I'd set up a redundant signal filter, I'd have had an extra split second when the jack got fritzed.

As it was, I tripped some Tar Baby IC, and before I could get free the system was lit up like a christmas tree.
Here, catch! This keycard's worthless to me.

{{GM}}Bull tosses you the keycard he was attempting to use on the lab door.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Racter gives you a significant look. He speaks quietly, so that only you can hear.{{/GM}}

That key he used is almost certainly for the private safe where they're keeping the auto-repair circuitry. We need it.
{{GM}}Bull abruptly bursts into laughter.{{/GM}}

I know you're trying to be quiet over there, but I can totally hear you.
{{GM}}Bull tosses you the keycard.{{/GM}}

Here, take the damn card. It's worthless to me. Just help us out of here in one piece.
{{GM}}Duncan gives you a significant look. He speaks quietly, so that only you can hear.{{/GM}}

If Bull pulled that keycard from Taylor or Hardingham's penthouse, then it's got to be for that private safe Racter mentioned. We should ask them for it.
{{GM}}Gobbet gives you a significant look. She speaks quietly, so that only you can hear.{{/GM}}

Boss, I got good money on bull's keycard being the one that'll open the private safe Racter mentioned. We should ask them for it.
{{GM}}Gaichu glances at you, his lips pursed. He speaks quietly, so that only you can hear.{{/GM}}

Bull's keycard is almost certainly for the safe Racter told us about. We should make certain we get that keycard.
It's very likely that the keycard Bull is carrying is the one that will allow you access to Hardingham and Taylor's private safe, where they should be keeping the auto-repair circuitry.
I need that keycard, Bull.
{{GM}}Bull tosses you the keycard.{{/GM}}

Knock yourself out, pal. The thing's worthless to me anyway.

Just help us get out of here in one piece.
Somebody shoulda brought an Assault Cannon like he'd planned! But no, getting it through Sea-Tac security was too much trouble...
Don't sass me, Opti. If I'd had my way, I'd have brought a second deck, too... Goddamn Sparky IC.

{{GM}}The Ork hefts his deck mournfully. Wisps of smoke trail out of it, and there is the distinct smell of ozone.{{/GM}}
Use Heal
Paydata: Restaurant Reservations
A detailed reservation schedule of recurring and upcoming diners. Listed is the personal information of several big-name Wuxing employees, as well as a few Hong Kong movers and shakers.

Other runners would pay good money to know where these people are going to be - or not be - at these times.
<MORE... MORE BLOOD...>

{{GM}}The spirit's claws slice the air.{{/GM}}

<...NOW *I* AM THE BUTCHER, BAO!>
{{GM}}Gobbet watches the spirit thrash.{{/GM}}

Okay, we've got a problem, kids. Once a spirit gets this single-minded, it's hard to get it to heel.
If that thing kills Bao, we're as good as dead, too. That old lady doesn't play around.
{{CC}}Charisma: 3{{/CC}} Spirit! Spirit, listen to me!
{{CC}}Intelligence: 3{{/CC}} Shopkeeper! Spirit of the once-proud shopkeeper!
No more blood! Let's talk about this.
Hey! Maybe butchering isn't the best option right now! Stop and think!
The spirit's claws hover motionless for a moment. It turns its murderous gaze on you.
Uh, you've got its attention.
{{CC}}Willpower: 5{{/CC}} You have had your vengeance. Enough! Rest now.
{{CC}}Spirit Control: 3{{/CC}} I release you from your vengeance. Go now.
Why don't you take a breather? You look tired.
Let's bring it down a notch, spirit.
The spirit looks down at its long bloody claws. Looks back at you. It lets out a mournful sigh and drops them to its side.
{{GM}}Its eyes become soft and indistinct again.{{/GM}}

<...Without vengeance... I am nothing...>
<I...AM... DEATH!...>
<NO TALK...ONLY BUTCHERY... ONLY BLOOD...>
{{GM}}Is0bel watches the spirit thrash.{{/GM}}

Okay, *that's* interesting.
The power of Rat destroys a hostile spirit outright. Can only target spirits.
Sabotage
Napalm Charges
Is0bel's Mini-Launcher is now packed with flame grenades, igniting targets and doing an additional 3 HP DMG for 2 RNDs.
Augment Weapon
Mini-launcher
Is0bel's mini-launcher now strips armor with every shot.
Class C Drone Turret
Steel Lynx Mk. 2 (Roomsweeper)
Offers ground-based firepower. This model has been fitted with a shotgun attachment.
Gain Cyberware: BrightLight System
Is0bel gains the BrightLight System cyber-eye.
High-energy flashbulbs hidden in a cybereye. Capable of temporarily blinding an opponent. AP Cost: 2, Duration: 2, Cooldown: 6.
Augment Gear: Mini-Launcher
Is0bel's grenade launcher can now fire Remote Mines, which can be triggered to detonate at will.
Gain Ability: Steady Shot
Is0bel gains a pistol ability that increases accuracy by 30% and critical chance by a small amount for one shot. Cost: 2 AP. Cooldown: 3.
Class A Drone Turret
Melee Systems
Bear Totem
The power of the Bear heals all allies within 3 tiles of the DMG from the most recent attack.
This server cluster handles the local records and systems for Floor 27. Undoubtedly the building-wide systems back up this data, but anything occurring here will be fed to the larger Ares Asia servers.

This makes it a perfect place to upload the worm and faked camera footage.
{{GM}}Upload camera footage.{{/GM}}
A few moments later, the chip flashes a green light, indicating that camera records for Floor 27 will now show footage of Golden Fong meeting with Dr. Taylor and Hardingham.
Ranger Arms SM-3
Rifle: Extremely powerful, and with a variable-magnification scope. Pierces up to 1 Armor.
Tiffani Self-Defender II
Pistol: An elegant weapon, perfect security for the woman about town.
Aim II
Increases the target's to hit chance by 10-15%. Does not stack, nor affect AOE abilities. Lasts 3 RNDS.
Ingram Smartgun
Activate Hydraulic Jack
Rapidly spring forward. +3 Move for 2 RNDS.
The door has been sealed - looks like it's been shut for quite a while.
Imbued Hermetic Fetish
Possession of this fetish grants a benefit of +1 Willpower and +1 Spellcasting.
THE FORTUNE ENGINE
The deafening rattle of machinegun fire fills the air behind you, and the metallic tang of blood cuts through the stench of garbage. You press forward, wading through block after block of insanity, chaos, and death. All around you, the Walled City is descending into a churning cauldron of depravity and violence.

The comm's of no use. You've tried several times, but there's still no word from the B-Team - no sign of Raymond, or of Kindly Cheng's triad soldiers. Finally, you reach the center of this hellhole: an industrial hatch with its door ajar.

This is the place where Raymond Black built his infernal machine. The threshold across which Qian Ya, the Queen With a Thousand Teeth, clawed her way into this world.
Qian Ya
Misshapen Thing
Fanged Behemoth
Unspeakable Horror
DO NOT USE
Rigger
As dangerous in meatspace as she is in the Matrix. Carries explosives and a sniper rifle.
Red Samurai
Security Specialist
Invisible Camera
Defeat Qian Ya
Purge Qian Ya's Influence
Locate the Fortune Engine
{{GM}}The thug taps his earpiece. Gestures with his head.{{/GM}}

Auntie Cheng said you'd be coming. You can pass.
Uh huh.
It's dangerous in here, friend.

No one gets in right now. Auntie Cheng's orders.
{{GM}}The thug looks at you dead faced. Despite his street clothes, he wears a high-tech ear piece.{{/GM}}

The entrance to the Walled City is closed to foreigners.
Sniffer 3.0
Increases your chance to hit against enemy IC and deckers by 25% for 3 RNDS.
Sniffer: Accuracy +25%
You are about to leave this location and move on to The Heart of the Walled City. Continue?
CITY OF DEATH
The typhoon pours down as the triad soldiers fan out in front of you, leading the way into Kowloon Walled City. Raymond shuffles along, alert and intent. Although exhausted by all that has gone on, he drives himself forward, and will not accept help from anyone. Wu watches the windows and rooftops, his rifle never leaving his shoulder. He occasionally risks a glance at his foster-father, concern, frustration, and anger playing over his face like a slideshow.

The Walled City is worse than in your first visit. Even with the rain, you can feel something in the air. It’s thicker now and it clings to your skin like invisible filth. The miserable noises of slum life are gone, replaced by something worse. The sounds of death. The sounds of fear.

As you round a corner, the group stops before heading in deeper.
Yellow Lotus Triad
$(scene.OuterRing_RedPoleTriad_Name)
Civilian
$(scene.OuterRing_LocalShaman_Name)
Yellow Lotus Soldier
Yellow Lotus Sniper
Raymond Tsang
Gaichû
$(scene.OuterRing_MedicalVendor)
$(scene.Global_KuFeng_Name)
Tsang Recon Commando
$(scene.MidRing_Grocer_Name)
Outspoken Civilian
Tsang Heavy Soldier
Tsang Soldier
Tsang Security Sergeant
Tsang Commando Captain
Tsang Commando
Tsang Heavy Commando
Yama King Servitor
Camera_StandIn
Kowloon Local
Triad Escort #2
Triad Escort #1
Tsang Rigger Commando
Tsang Security
Ranged Servitor
Reach the Objective Building
Move to the Mid Ring of the Kowloon Walled City
Access the Center of the Kowloon Walled City
Find Alternate Route to Center of Kowloon Walled City
Creates smoke that reduces chance to hit by 15%. Lasts for 3 RNDS.
One of the locals looks up at the sound of your approach. The others remain huddled around the low fire, their backs hunched against the pelting rain.
Get out of here, outsider. You're not helping anyone by shooting the place up.
But we--
The squatter turns his back on you.
You need something, boy? If not, shove off - this fire's taken.
The water pump on the other side of the deck blew a fuse. Know where I could find a new one?
I want you to tell me what's happening here.
We're looking for a friend of ours. Maybe you've seen her.
I have to go.
Maybe. Could be a new fuse anywhere up here... we tend not to throw things like that away.

{{GM}}He shugs.{{/GM}}

Check the piles. That's where bits and bobs usually wind up.
I'd watch my hands if I were you, though. Rats've been known to hide in those piles.
{{GM}}The old man chuckles. Nods.{{/GM}}

He's right. Y'might get chewed on if you're not careful.
{{GM}}The old man grunts.{{/GM}}

It's rainin'.
That wasn't what $(l.he) meant. Tell us about the devil rats.
{{GM}}The younger local cuts in.{{/GM}}

Strange things've always been happening here, ever since the beginning.

But yeah... things've been odder than usual lately, and those damned rats are a big part of that.
With all the people who've been gettin' sick, I've considered packin' up and moving away.

{{GM}}He chuckles to himself.{{/GM}}

But I've got no place else to go. Been here for about five years now, and everyone I care about lives on this raft. So... here I stay.
I doubt it.

We mostly keep to ourselves up here.
She'd be a new arrival. An ork, about my age, calls herself Gobbet.

Seen her around?
Never heard of her.
I think that you have. You said that you'd lived here for about five years now, right?
If you haven't seen Gobbet, maybe you could tell me about Malvina. She still in charge of this raft?
How about Cadmus, can you lead us to him?
{{GM}}He shifts uncomfortably.{{/GM}}

Uh... Yeah, about that long...
Then you were here during Tsui's mutiny.

{{GM}}She cocks her head.{{/GM}}

You know. The one that Gobbet helped to put down?
{{GM}}He looks helplessly at his older companion.{{/GM}}

I, uh... I don't know...
{{CC}}Etiquette: Shadowrunner{{/CC}} You're familiar with shadowrunners... you know that we're dangerous people. You wouldn't be lying to me unless you were afraid of something.
You're lying. Wanna tell us why?
All right. If you don't wanna talk, I'm not going to force you to.
{{GM}}The old man steps in.{{/GM}}

Yeah. He's afraid. And with good reason.

We all know what happens to people who break the rules.
I don't care about your rules. All that I care about is finding my friend.

If you know something, now's the time to share it.
{{GM}}His jaw drops open. He begins stammering.{{/GM}}

L-look... I... I just can't... talking about it is against the rules...
{{CC}}Strength: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Medium){{/CC}} Break the rules or I'll start breaking bones. Your call.
If you don't quit lying to me, things are going to get ugly.
We don't want to get you in trouble. You don't have to talk if you don't want to.
Below. She went below.

Those two up there, they saw her slip past 'em. But they were too afraid of getting punished to raise the alarm.
They tried to catch your friend on foot, but she was too quick for 'em.

She's... she's still down there somewhere. And that's all I'm gonna say.
Like hell it is. You're gonna give me details. Now.
Thanks. You've been more helpful than you know.
{{GM}}The old man pushes in front of his younger companion. His voice grows to a roar.{{/GM}}

He's tellin' you the truth! Now leave him be!

{{GM}}He's gone bug-eyed, and spittle flies as he shrieks.{{/GM}}

YOU LET US ALONE!
Come on, $(l.name).

I think we've learned everything from them that we're going to.
You can thank us by keeping what you heard to yourself.

I don't know where your friend is now. All I know is that she went down below.
There's nothin' to talk about anyway. The kid doesn't know anything.

Your friend hasn't been here.
Yeah. But if you wanna talk to her, you're gonna have to go down below.

The boss-lady stays down there, by the water line. I'd stay away if I were you, though.
Just do yourself a favor and do as he says, girl.

In fact, do us all a favor and get back on that trash heap you floated in on. I promise, you'll be happier for it if you do.
{{GM}}The old man clucks his tongue.{{/GM}}

Cadmus? He hasn't been up here in months.
Go, then. Shove off.

{{GM}}The old man makes a brushing motion with the back of his hand.{{/GM}}
If you're smart, you won't stop until you hit dry land.
You need something, girl? If not, shove off - this fire's taken.
You again? What do you want?
As you enter Gobbet's cabin, you find her sipping from an enormous mug. Something dark and steamy sloshes as she lowers the vessel.

Her rats squeak happily from their perches on her shoulders.
That was a hell of a thing, wasn't it? We fought a Yama King, and we *won.*
I'd say that it's time for a celebration. Got anything to drink around here?
Yeah. And the woman who brought that Yama King here in the first place isn't going to serve a day in prison for it.
Given a choice, I'd like to stay far, *far* away from demon-gods from this point on.
Sure do! But if you think I'm breaking it out tonight, you're crazy. I'm exhausted, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)... I don't think that I can keep my eyes open for much longer. If we're celebrate our victory in style, I don't wanna pass out at the ten minute mark.

You must be tired, too... to be frank, I don't even know how you're still standing.
It isn't easy.
Endurance. It's just one of my many virtues.
Sheer force of will.
Well, you should probably go fix that, then... the solution's in your cabin.

I'll see you tomorrow, though, right? I mean, you're not going anywhere.

{{GM}}It's phrased as a statement - firm and final.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}She smirks at you.{{/GM}}

Yeah. Sure it is. Go endure in your cabin, then... we mere mortals need to sleep.

I'll see you tomorrow, though, right? I mean... you're not going anywhere.

{{GM}}It's phrased as a statement - firm and final.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}She smirks at you.{{/GM}}

Yeah, I'll bet. Go exert your will in your cabin, then... we mere mortals need to sleep.

I'll see you tomorrow, though, right? I mean, you're not going anywhere.

{{GM}}It's phrased as a statement - firm and final.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}She waves your comment off.{{/GM}}

Getting worked up about that is like being angry with gravity. Doesn't matter how pissed off it makes you, it isn't going to change.

Corporate CEOs will always get away with murder, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). It's an unwritten law of the universe.
Yeah, maybe.
That's a law of the universe that I intend to break.
I know that as well as anyone. It just sucks, is all.
The important thing is, what we did inside the Walled City was incredible.

We stopped a *demon-god* - man, I love that phrase - and helped a bunch of people while we were at it. Nothing can ever take that away from us.
She yawns. Stretches. Madness and Folly chirp in agreement.
Anyway. It's been a long day, and I'm beat... frankly, I'm amazed that you're still standing.

I'll see you tomorrow, though, right? I mean, you're not going anywhere.

{{GM}}It's phrased as a statement - firm and final.{{/GM}}
Yeah, Gobbet. I'll see you then.
Maybe. You never can tell.
I'm all beat to hell, Gobbet. Right now, I don't think I could leave if I wanted to.
Yeah. Right. Good. I'll see you then, then.

{{GM}}She hesitates for a moment. Then the corner of her mouth tilts up into that old, familiar smirk.{{/GM}}

...Oh, and $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)?
Yeah?
Sweet dreams.
Maybe you will one day... I wouldn't put it past you. But not tonight.
Yeah, it does. But it isn't in our power to change it. Let the big fish duke it out with each other - it's time for the little fish to sleep.

That's us, by the way. We're little fish in this analogy. Guppies, maybe, or minnows. You get the drift.
As life goals go, I've heard worse.

{{GM}}She gives you a smile, followed by a yawn and a long, languid stretch.{{/GM}}

Been a long day, hasn't it? I'll be licking my wounds for a while after this one... I think I might've pulled something on the way out of the Prosperity chamber.
I think that I'm about ready for a vacation.
I'm a little sore, too. It'd be easier to name the parts of my body that *aren't* sprained.
Nah, I'm fine. Not even tired, really.
I think you've earned one. Hell, maybe me and Izz will come with you. I've heard that Barcelona is nice this time of year.

That was a joke, ha-ha. Kindly would never allow it... at least, not for a while.
I'll take a rain check.
Kindly doesn't own me.
I wasn't planning on leaving tomorrow, or anything.
Noted.

And with that, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname), I really need some sleep. You should get some, too.

To be frank, I don't even know how you're still standing.
{{GM}}She sighs.{{/GM}}

Not officially, no. But let's discuss this some other time, huh? I'm exhausted, and I really need some sleep.

You should get some, too. To be frank, I don't even know how you're still standing.
That's good. After the day we just had, I don't even know if I'll be able to stand tomorrow.

Speaking of which, I should get to bed, and you should, too. The fact that you're still conscious mystifies me... how have you not passed out already?
{{GM}}She nods sagely.{{/GM}}

We both need sleep. It's night-night time. To be perfectly frank, I don't even know how you're still standing right now.
Yeah. Right. Sure you aren't.

Look, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname), I need sleep. If you're genuinely not tired, then I've got two things to say to you.
One, I think that you're a robot, or possibly an alien of some kind. Do your people understand the concept of sleep? It's wonderful, you should try it sometime!

And two, you should go to bed anyway, because we just fought a demon-god you don't stay up partying after that. It just isn't done.
So anyway. I'm sleeping now. End of discussion. But, uh... I'll see you tomorrow, though, right?

I mean, you're not going anywhere.

{{GM}}It's phrased as a statement - firm and final.{{/GM}}
Well, that was a thing, right? We fought a Yama King, and we *won.*

{{GM}}She sniffs.{{/GM}}

I mean, I know that we haven't really talked much, or anything, but... that's something, yeah? Worthy of a high-five, at least.
Yeah, that was a hell of a fight.
I never want to go through anything like that again.
Yeah.

{{GM}}She nods vigorously.{{/GM}}

Yeah, that was pretty intense. The stuff of legends, even.
There is a long, awkward pause.
...So, uh... we never got to know each other at all, did we?

I mean, you never came by to chat. Not in all the time we've been running together.
Well, I'm here now.
I guess I never really got around to it.
Yeah. That's true. And good on you for it!

But, uh, here's the thing... I'm completely exhausted. I mean, we did just fight a demon-god.

In the grand scheme of things, that's a pretty big day.
So, uh...

{{GM}}She motions toward her cabin door.{{/GM}}

Sleepy time. Maybe we can talk tomorrow, or something.
Tomorrow, then. Take care, Gobbet.
Yeah, you too.
Guess not. I mean, that's fine, don't get me wrong... but we're more like co-workers than friends.

And so, uh, here's the thing... I'm completely exhausted. I mean, we did just fight a demon-god. In the grand scheme of things, that's a pretty big day.
Yeah.

{{GM}}She nods vigorously.{{/GM}}

Yeah, I know what you mean.
She's gone, $(l.name). I don't know where she ran off to, but she looked upset.

She just said something about friends in trouble, then left. By the time I could disconnect from the Octopus, she was on her way out of town.
She must have gone back to the Sinking Ship.
I don't like the sound of that.

She tell you what went down out there, all of those years ago?
The mutiny? Yeah. And she's been having bad dreams about the place ever since.
A bit, yeah. She's been worried about Cadmus and Malvina. She said that she thought it was nothing, though.
Honestly, I don't even remember. She tends to ramble a lot.
{{GM}}She turns her back and begins grabbing her gear.{{/GM}}

Well. We'd better go and get her, hadn't we?
We don't know for sure that anything is wrong. Maybe we should wait for her to call for help.
Or maybe we should go find her before she gets herself killed.

I think that might be a better plan.
I'm going to arrange transport out to Hung Hom Bay. You come meet me at the docks when you're ready.
{{GM}}She turns her back and begins grabbing her gear.{{/GM}}

Well. Apparently she's changed her mind. So we'd better go and get her, hadn't we?
{{GM}}She rubs her temples between thumb and forefinger.{{/GM}}

Why is nothing ever as easy as it should be?

...Don't answer that. It's a rhetorical question.
Okay. Long story short, bad things happened, and she left afterward.

If she's heading back there by herself, she's probably gonna need help. So grab your gear - we need to catch a boat and go after her.
You two can bunk here for a while.

{{GM}}She nods with her nose towards a hatch.{{/GM}}

The head's over there for you to take care of your necessaries. It may look communal, but try to knock before you enter.
Seriously.
I know the drill.

{{GM}}Wu turns to you.{{/GM}}

Stinks of fish, just like that place we squatted at on Leary Avenue back when we were kids. The one with that Aztlan family and their dog.
I remember it being a dump.
You hated that dog.
They were good people.
I dunno. They managed to make that place pretty comfortable for a while. Until the 162s decided that they wanted it.

{{GM}}He wipes his nose with a gloved hand.{{/GM}}

It's too bad. They were good people. Nobody should go out that way.
{{GM}}He stretches, and his spine pops like a handful of firecrackers.{{/GM}}

I think I've been up for something like thirty-six hours straight.
{{GM}}He drops his arms.{{/GM}}

And this has been one shit-stain of a day.

Time to end it.
{{GM}}The ork turns to you. Raises an eyebrow.{{/GM}}

Anything you need before I leave you to it...?
Is it just you and Is0bel living here?
Is there a place for my stuff?
How'd you get your hands on this place?
I'm gonna grab some sack time, too.
Think I'll have a look around.
Yeah.

{{GM}}Gobbet's mouth screws up a bit.{{/GM}}

Now that Nightjar and Gutshot are gone, it's just us.
The squeal of metal grinding on metal rips through the boat. It sounds like it's coming from the level below.
And the creepy Russian guy renting the engine room downstairs.
Nothing to worry about. He mostly keeps to himself.

{{GM}}She checks her PDA.{{/GM}}

He'll stop soon. He's usually quiet by now.
Yeah, check the locker over there. You can stash your stuff in it.

No one'll touch your things in there, and it's a lot bigger than it looks.
How do people like us get our hands on anything?

We *found* it.
You found it empty?

{{GM}}He sweeps his eyes across the cabin. The doubt is plain on his face.{{/GM}}

Somebody abandoned a prime piece of real estate like this?
{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

Close enough. It was full of BTL junkies when we came across it.

They were completely wigged out on some multiplayer cybergame... I'm not sure they *ever* chipped out of it.
They were completely emaciated, stewing in piles of their own shit. Their eyes had sunk into their skulls.

Pretty gruesome stuff.
They racked up a killer score, though.
True. They had the moves.

Should've hung an IV while they were playing, though. Turns out, nutrition is important.
So what happened? Did they die?
{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

Nightjar ran 'em out. Not sure what happened to them after that.

Anyway, it's ours now... Auntie Cheng says so.
All but the engine room, you mean.
Right. Everything but that.

Auntie rented it out from under us.
That must've pissed you off.
{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

Whatever, we weren't using it. As long as our downstairs neighbor keeps to himself, he can have the lower level, especially if it keeps Auntie Cheng happy.
Good. You look like you could use it.

We'll go see Kindly in the morning. Figure out our next move.
Okay, but get some sleep soon. You look like you could use it.

We'll go see Kindly in the morning. Figure out our next move.
He kept digging out my food stash. No matter where I hid it, he'd find it and scarf down a week's worth of grub.

{{GM}}He wipes his nose with a gloved hand.{{/GM}}

Still, it was sad what happened to him. And the family. No one should go out that way.
Yeah, until the 162s decided they wanted the place...

{{GM}}He wipes his nose with a gloved hand.{{/GM}}

They were good people. Sorry that had to happen to 'em.
Gobbet's nest is pretty much what you'd expect. Piles of clothes on the ground. An overflowing garbage bin surrounded by stacks of instant noodle packets and towers of tinned oysters. Avant-garde posters haphazardly thumbtacked to the walls, overlapping in some places and peeling in others.

It feels a lot like an art school dorm room.
Gobbet reclines in a corner, cradling a bowl of soup in her hands. At her feet, a cast-iron pot simmers away on an electric hot plate. The contents are typical Hong Kong comfort food: chicken-style soya broth, elbow macaroni, tinned "ham," and a heaping scoop of egg-flavored mycoprotein.

As you wind your way through the piles of dirty laundry, Gobbet slowly lifts her head from her bowl to acknowledge you.
Heyya, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname).

{{GM}}She chews on the words along with a mouthful of cheap pasta. A corner of her mouth curls up into a half-smile.{{/GM}}

How's tricks?
They'd be a lot better if you'd stop calling me "Seattle." Can't you come up with something better than that?
My entire life just got erased and the cops want me dead. I'm doing great, you?
Things have been better, things have been worse.
'Course I can. I can come up with all sorts of things. Can't promise that you'll like 'em, though.

Tell you what... why don't you just tell me what you *want* me to call you? It'd probably be easier that way for both of us.
You go by your street name, right? I want you to call me by mine.
Personally, I like "boss." Call me that.
How about "killer"? Sounds appropriate, right?
Y'know what? I've changed my mind. Just stick with "Seattle."
{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

Kind of a mouthful, but hey. If that's what you want, then so be it. $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname) it is.
So, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)... you wanna tell me what you're doing in my bedroom?

I'm assuming you're not here to admire the view.
How did you decide on the name "Gobbet," anyway?
Have you had any nightmares recently? Like, bad ones?
If you're up to talking about it, I wanted to go over the ambush back on the docks with you.
I'd like to learn more about Rat. What kind of totem is she?
Do you always let your rats drink out of your own bowl?
How did you come across Madness and Folly?
You seem pretty comfortable with all of this. Been running the shadows for a while?
I've got a question about Is0bel.
Gotta run, Gobbet. You take care.
I didn't.

{{GM}}She pops a noodle into her mouth and chews.{{/GM}}

My mom did.
So "Gobbet" is your given name? Your mother named you after a wad of meat?
You aren't using a street name? Isn't that dangerous for a shadowrunner?
It's a nice name. Your mom has good taste.
{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

Yeah, sure. I don't think she knew what it meant... she just thought that it sounded pretty.

You should get used to that, by the way. People here in Hong Kong like to stand out, and choosing unique names is one of the ways that they do it.
Nah, not really. I'm SINless. There's no electronic record of a girl named Gobbet even existing.

The only thing that could really threaten me would be, oh, say... the HKPF attaching an APB to whatever file they do have on me. *That* would be terrifying.
Yeah, sorry about that.
Glad to see that you're keeping a sense of humor about it.
{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

It is what it is.
Yeah, well. If you can't laugh about this, what can you laugh about?
{{GM}}She smirks.{{/GM}}

I'll make sure to thank her for you.
{{GM}}Her jaw stops working mid-chew. Slowly, she nods.{{/GM}}

Yeah... yeah, I have. We all have.

Everyone in town.
Me, too. And Duncan. We both just had the same nightmare.
Me, too. And Is0bel. We both just had the same nightmare.
Me, too. I just had a horrible nightmare.
Everyone, huh? Doesn't that strike you as odd?
Shouldn't there be mass panic, then? I mean, this ranks pretty high on the list of things to get freaked out about.
Let me guess. You saw the Walled City, and a black whirlpool, and teeth. Thousands and thousands of teeth.

{{GM}}She holds up a hand.{{/GM}}

You don't need to answer. I already know that I'm right, because I just had the same dream. Creepy, I know.
{{GM}}Her voice goes quiet.{{/GM}}

The dreams are coming from inside the Walled City. I'm sure of it. All of the negative energy pent up in there... all of that pain and anger and poisonous qi... it's leaking out.

And while we sleep, it's getting into us.
If you're so sure of that, why stay in Kowloon? Why not pick up and leave?
You think that this is a magical phenomenon, then?
You've been watching too many horror movies.
Oh, I was planning on it. But now, with the APB in place, Auntie Cheng is the only thing standing between us and a bullet in the head.

Believe me, I'd leave if I could. But I'm a lot more frightened of the HKPF than I am of a few bad dreams. At least the dreams can't hurt us, right?
Who says that they can't?
I'm glad that one of us isn't terrified by this.
{{GM}}She tries on a smile. Fails. Does her best to laugh it off.{{/GM}}

Don't worry, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname), we're fine here. But, uh... let's talk about something else, huh?

I don't like thinking about the Walled City very much. Too many old fears and bad feelings.
Yeah. Yeah, I think it is.

Want my personal opinion? The Walled City is cursed. Deep down, I think that everybody knows it. And we live in its shadow.

That's bound to mess with your head, y'know? And it is. But they're just dreams... it's not like they can hurt us, right?
Maybe. But it's a fact that we're all sharing the same terrible dreams.

Something is happening, and the Walled City is at the center of it.
Want my personal opinion? The Walled City is cursed. Deep down, I think that everybody knows it. And we live in its shadow.

That's bound to mess with your head, y'know? And it is. But they're just dreams... it's not like they can hurt us, right?
Sure does. But then, lots of odd stuff happens in Heoi.

{{GM}}She casts a furtive glance over her shoulder.{{/GM}}

...In case you hadn't gotten the memo, we aren't in the best part of town.
In all seriousness, the dreams are coming from inside the Walled City. I'm pretty sure of that.

All of the negative energy pent up in there... all of that pain and anger and poisonous qi... it's leaking out. And while we sleep, it's getting into us.
{{GM}}She chuckles softly.{{/GM}}

Yeah? I think that your list is different from mine. The people of Heoi have learned put up with a lot worse than bad dreams.

I'm not saying they shouldn't be freaked out. I'm just saying that when you live in a place like this, you'll usually have at least twenty other things to worry about... tangible things, the kind that can put a bullet in your head.
In my professional opinion, the dreams are coming from inside the Walled City. All of the negative energy that's pent up in there... all of that pain and anger and poisonous qi... is leaking out, and it's getting into our heads while we sleep.

It's pretty freaky - more so than the people here are prepared to understand.
Yeah...

{{GM}}She nods slowly, frowning.{{/GM}}

...Yeah, I figured you would. That was a hell of a thing, right?
You could say that.
I'd go a little further than that. It was a clusterfuck of epic proportions.
I've been through worse.
It was fucking awful. Nightjar and Gutshot were two of the strongest men I've ever known... quality shadowrunners, both of 'em.

I've watched those two fight through situations that'd kill anyone and come out on top. And how do they go out?
{{GM}}She mimes holding a rifle. Makes a show of peering down the scope.{{/GM}}

Bang. Bang. Dead. Dead. No blaze of glory, no final speech. Just... extinguished. Smashed like bugs.
They went quick and clean. We should all be so lucky.
We would've gone the same way if you hadn't gotten us out of there.
They knew the risks when they decided to run the shadows. It's an occupational hazard.
{{GM}}She shakes her head from side to side.{{/GM}}

No way. Not me. When I die, I wanna know what's coming.

Just winking out like that is the worst thing I can imagine. Even a drawn-out, painful death would be better... at least I'd have time to say my good-byes.
Scream them, you mean.
Yeah, I guess that I can see that.
You can keep your good-byes. I'll take the short road to oblivion any day.
Sure. Scream 'em. Whatever. The point is, I'd know that I was on the way out, and I could at least try to do something about it. Earn myself an A for effort, right?

{{GM}}She plunges her spoon back into the bowl, sloshing ham-scented broth up over the rim.{{/GM}}

Nightjar and Gutshot... they never got that chance. It's fucking depressing.
Carter didn't get to choose, either. She went down in the alpha strike just like your teammates did.
Yeah, it is. At least we didn't all go down in the ambush. You got us out of there in one piece.
Yeah. She seemed like a good woman... tough, skilled. Light on her feet. But in the end, it didn't matter, because some asshole with a rifle made a decision a half a mile away.

{{GM}}She falls quiet, staring into her soup.{{/GM}}
You got us out of there, though. We're all still alive because of you.
{{GM}}She absentmindedly raises her bowl to her shoulder. A rat crawls over the slope of her back and lowers its head to lap at the broth.{{/GM}}

It was more Rat than me. She's the one who grabbed me by the gut and led us to that sewer entrance.

All that I did was follow.
'Course you can, because I'm right. You don't wanna go gentle into that good night any more than I do.

{{GM}}She plunges her spoon back into the bowl, sloshing ham-scented broth up over the rim.{{/GM}}

Nightjar and Gutshot... they never got the opportunity to choose. It's fucking depressing.
We'll agree to disagree. But if nothing else, you'd want a chance to decide whether to go out easy or not, right? You'd want the option to change your mind.

{{GM}}She plunges her spoon back into the bowl, sloshing ham-scented broth up over the rim.{{/GM}}

Nightjar and Gutshot... they never got that choice. It was taken away from them, and that's a damned tragedy.
{{GM}}She rolls her eyes.{{/GM}}

Ooh, big words from the greenhorn runner.

Look, I know that they knew the risks, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). We all do. That doesn't change the fact that it sucks.
{{GM}}She plunges her spoon back into the bowl, sloshing ham-scented broth up over the rim.{{/GM}}

Nightjar and Gutshot... they were good guys, y'know? And now they're dead, and they didn't even get the chance to go down fighting.

It's depressing, is all.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

Yeah. That it was.

Nightjar and Gutshot were two of the strongest men I've ever known... quality shadowrunners, both of 'em. I've watched those two fight through situations that'd kill anyone and come out on top. And how do they go out?
{{GM}}Her brow furrows.{{/GM}}

Yeah? Well, good for you. That doesn't change the fact that I lost friends back there, or that you lost that mage that you came here with. What was her name again?
Carter. She was a friend of Duncan's.
Honestly, I wasn't paying attention. She was just a hired gun.
I don't want to talk about her. Please, go back to what you were saying.
Yeah. Seemed like a good woman... tough, skilled. Light on her feet. But in the end, it didn't matter, because some asshole with a rifle made a decision a half a mile away.

Nightjar and Gutshot were two of the strongest men I've ever known. Quality shadowrunners, both of 'em. I've watched those two fight through situations that'd kill anyone and come out on top. And how do they go out?
{{GM}}She scowls.{{/GM}}

Well, whatever. She seemed like a good woman... tough, skilled. Light on her feet.

But in the end, it didn't matter, because some asshole with a rifle made a decision a half a mile away.
Nightjar and Gutshot were two of the strongest men I've ever known. Quality shadowrunners, both of 'em.

I've watched those two fight through situations that'd kill anyone and come out on top. And how do they go out?
I was saying that it was fucking awful. Nightjar and Gutshot were two of the strongest men I've ever known... quality shadowrunners, both of 'em.

I've watched those two fight through situations that'd kill anyone and come out on top. And how do they go out?
{{GM}}She slurps thoughtfully at her soup.{{/GM}}

A clever one. She's gotten me out of more trouble than I care to mention... gotten me into a fair amount of it, too. But I can always count on her to lead me out of hot water when I need her to.

I can feel it in my belly, y'know? Sort of a tugging sensation. I've long since learned to follow it.
I'm a shaman myself. Never had my totem take an active role in leading me anywhere before.
I wasn't aware that totems took such direct control of their shamans.
Don't feel bad about it. Me and Rat... well, we have a sort of a special bond. She takes care of me, and I've always done my best to take care of her.

{{GM}}Another pair of beady eyes blinks up at you from Gobbet's hip. A second rat scurries up her shoulder to join the first.{{/GM}}

And to spoil and pamper her earthly children, like these two. Meet Madness and Folly.
Umm... hey.
Interesting choice of names.
Are they just normal rats, then? I thought they might have been spirits, or something.
They say hi.

{{GM}}She brushes her fingers across the white rat's mottled coat.{{/GM}}

Don't trust Folly. She bites.
I like the way they sound. Madness and Folly. It has a nice ring to it, right?

{{GM}}She brushes her fingers across the white rat's mottled coat.{{/GM}}

My girls remind me not to take myself too seriously. I wouldn't trust Folly, though... she bites.
Nope. Just rats.

{{GM}}She brushes her fingers across the white rat's mottled coat.{{/GM}}

Don't trust Folly. She bites.
Usually they don't. Me and Rat... we have a sort of a special bond. She takes care of me, and I've always done my best to take care of her.

{{GM}}Another pair of beady eyes blinks up at you from Gobbet's hip. A second rat scurries up her shoulder to join the first.{{/GM}}

And to pamper her earthly children, like these two. Meet Madness and Folly.
{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

Sure. Why not? We're all a part of the same nest.
Is that hygienic?
Probably not. But I've never gotten sick, so...

{{GM}}She raises an eyebrow, scoops a noodle out of the bowl, and pops it into her mouth with a satisfied smile.{{/GM}}
'Course it does. Besides which, I get shot at for a living. I've got bigger things to worry about than a few stray hairs in my noodles.
{{GM}}She raises an eyebrow.{{/GM}}

I looked outside...? I mean, they're rats. Hong Kong isn't experiencing a rodent shortage, or anything.
So you just picked them up off the street?
Yep. Think of them as rescue vermin.

You could probably do the same if you wanted to. It's easy, just walk into any alleyway in Kowloon after sundown and stick your hand in the first dumpster or storm drain that you come across. Keep fishing around until you touch fur.
That sounds like a really bad idea.
I might just have to try that.
Yeah, in retrospect, it might've been.

{{GM}}She continues to brush Folly's coat. The creature chirps happily at her touch.{{/GM}}

Odds are about fifty-fifty that you'd get your hand chewed off. I'd probably feel bad about that.
Um. You probably shouldn't.

{{GM}}She continues to brush Folly's coat. The creature chirps happily at her touch.{{/GM}}

Odds are about fifty-fifty that you'd get your hand chewed off. I'd probably feel bad about that.
{{GM}}She dips her chin.{{/GM}}

A long time. Started when I was just a kid.
You're still a kid now, Gobbet. What are you, nineteen?
Yeah? I gather you've seen a lot of action, then?
It's amazing you've lived this long.
{{GM}}She rolls her shoulders. Shrugs.{{/GM}}

Something like that. Your guess is as good as mine.

Doesn't change the fact that I've been doing this for years, and you started yesterday.
Matter of fact, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname), I think that I'm gonna make a project of you. Take you under my wing, so to speak.

You need a wizened mentor. Might as well be me.
You aren't "wizened," Gobbet. Back in Seattle you couldn't even order a drink without a fake ID.
Sure, why not? I could use the advice, and I don't see Is0bel volunteering for the job anytime soon.
{{GM}}She smirks.{{/GM}}

Good thing we're not in Seattle, then. But my point is still valid... you need to learn the basics, and I'm offering.
Starting the next time you visit, I'm gonna teach you all about being a shadowrunner.

You're gonna benefit from my bountiful experience. Wait and see.
I'll be looking forward to it.
Whatever you say.
Lucky me.
Gobbet stretches. Stifles a yawn. Her rats scurry from her shoulders down to her hips.

She taps the simmering pot on the floor with her boot. The soup inside has reduced down into a thick, viscous gravy.
Y'know, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)... this has been a nice chat and all, but it's getting late, and I still have the rest of a hot pot to power through.

So, without wanting this to get awkward...

{{GM}}She glances toward the door.{{/GM}}
I could help you with that if you wanted.
Say no more, I'll get out of your hair. Take it easy, Gobbet.
Oh, c'mon, we were just getting started.
Thanks, but no thanks.

{{GM}}Smirking, she brushes Folly's coat with the knuckles of her left hand.{{/GM}}

You can go get your own food. Now would be a good time.
All right, all right, I get it. Talk to you later, Gobbet.
Yeah, we'll do that. It'll be fun.
You're not good at hints, are you? Taking them, I mean.

{{GM}}She glances toward the door again, more pointedly this time.{{/GM}}
See what I just did there? That meant "leave," but in a polite way. Look, I'll do it again.

{{GM}}Another glance, complete with a sweeping arm motion ushering you out.{{/GM}}
You're in? Good. Starting the next time you visit, I'm gonna teach you all about being a shadowrunner.

{{GM}}She stifles a yawn.{{/GM}}

You're gonna benefit from my bountiful experience. Wait and see.
{{GM}}She rolls her shoulders.{{/GM}}

Plenty. Been in more firefights than I can count.
You're pretty new at this - you and Duncan both. It shows.

{{GM}}She takes a moment to study you. Slowly, her mouth tilts into a smirk.{{/GM}}

What you need is a wizened mentor. An experienced runner from whose experience you can benefit. I'm thinkin' that might as well be me.
{{GM}}She rolls her shoulders. Shrugs.{{/GM}}

Been lucky, I guess.

'Course, the odds of you surviving as long as I have are pretty low. You don't even have anyone to show you the ropes.
Yeah? What do you want to know?
Sure. Drop by anytime.
{{GM}}She chuckles through another mouthful of soup.{{/GM}}

Yeah... sure. "Boss." That's you, all right... I mean, you only just got here, and you don't know a thing about life in Hong Kong, and you only just started shadowrunning.

Seems appropriate to me.
{{GM}}Her eyes twinkle as she smiles at you from behind her bowl.{{/GM}}

So, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)... you wanna tell me what you're doing in my bedroom? I'm assuming you're not here to admire the view.
{{GM}}She chuckles through another mouthful of soup.{{/GM}}

Yeah... sure. "Killer." Very imaginative, and not ridiculous at all. Let's go with it.
Hey, if that's what you want.

So, uh... is there a reason why you're here, Seattle? I'm assuming there is, 'cause you're standing on a pile of my clothes.
Oh, everything's just ducky over here. My friends are dead, I'm on my boss's shit list because of it, and I can't even eat a bowl of soup in peace.

{{GM}}She skims an oily slab of faux ham off the top of her soup and pops it into her mouth. Chewing thoughtfully, she looks back up at you with a smile.{{/GM}}
So it's all good, Seattle. I'm happy as a clam, just like you are.

Now, you wanna tell me what you're doing in my bedroom...? I'm assuming you're not here to admire the view.
That's the attitude! Very stoic, very strong. It's downright inspiring.

{{GM}}She skims an oily slab of faux ham off the top of her soup and pops it into her mouth.{{/GM}}

Now, you wanna tell me what you're doing in my bedroom...? I'm assuming you're not here to admire the view.
Welcome back, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname).

{{GM}}She salutes you with her spoon.{{/GM}}

What can I do for you?
Gobbet looks up from a dented tin of oysters at the sound of your approach. Her rats, Madness and Folly, scurry from her hips up to her shoulders.

Two sets of beady red eyes fix themselves on you.
Hey, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). Oyster?

{{GM}}She spears a gray lump of seafood with a fingernail. Extends it to you.

It smells like low tide at a municipal pier.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Eat the oyster.{{/GM}} Sure, why not?
{{GM}}Refuse.{{/GM}} Uh, no thanks.
{{GM}}Refuse.{{/GM}} Are you trying to kill me?
You pop the rubbery wad of flesh into your mouth and chew.

An explosion of lukewarm brine is your reward.
Good, right?

{{GM}}Half-repressed memories of dumpster diving in the Barrens dance a merry jig in your brain as the mangled oyster slides down your throat.{{/GM}}
Yeah. Delicious.
I've eaten worse.
That was vile, Gobbet.
I wouldn't go that far. But it's seafood, and it isn't made of soy. That makes it good in my book.

{{GM}}She tilts back the tin, drains the remaining juice, and then flicks it into the overflowing bin at her side.{{/GM}}

So. What do you need?
How do you like life here on the $(story.Global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName)?
Y'know, the "Bolthole" is a pretty mediocre name for a ship. Ever consider changing it?
I'm having second thoughts about that new name for the boat.
You said that you'd teach me how to be a better shadowrunner. I'm here to collect.
Are you certain that Sibilance and the rest of the Macau team are dead?
Did any of the stuff in that story actually happen, or did you just make it up for my benefit?
That's all that I needed. Thanks, Gobbet.
It's fine. Shaping up. Having new roomies is always nice.

{{GM}}She smiles.{{/GM}}

How're you enjoying your cabin? Comfy enough for you?
It isn't half bad. Better than some of the places I squatted in back in the Barrens.
I'll get used to it.
I'd almost rather sleep outside.
I've heard stories about the Redmond Barrens. Sounds like a real winner of a place.

Kowloon isn't any better, of course. But at least our little slice of home is safe.
That's true. It's handy having a mob boss on our side.
I'll take the $(story.Global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName) over the Barrens any day.
This boat should have been scrapped years ago. I'd feel a hell of a lot safer at a hotel.
Yeah. Handy. Auntie Cheng is definitely that.

{{GM}}She half-frowns.{{/GM}}

Don't know if I'd say that she's on our side, though.
Why? She's helping us.
Yeah. I know what you mean.
{{GM}}She pushes back. Her voice goes brisk.{{/GM}}

Look. Let's change the subject, if you don't mind.

I'd rather not think about the old woman right now.
'Course you do.

Let's change the subject, huh? I'd rather not think about the old woman right now.
That's the spirit.

{{GM}}A lazy smile spreads across her face as her fingertips brush Madness's back. The rat squeals and darts back into the safe haven of Gobbet's hair.{{/GM}}
I'm sure that you would... right up until the Special Duties Unit kicks in your door and puts a bullet in your mouth.

Somehow, I don't think that you'd feel very safe drowning in a pool of your own blood.
I can handle--
The Special Duties Unit doesn't scare--
You make it sound like a foregone--
{{GM}}She cuts you off mid-sentence. Her voice is soft, but firm.{{/GM}}

This is where you want to be, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). This is where you're safe.

If you quit moaning about it and make an effort to adapt, you'll see that for yourself in no time.
Yeah, you will. It'll happen quick, too... quicker than you'd think. Trust me, I know.

{{GM}}She gestures at the peeling walls of her cabin.{{/GM}}

It may not be much, but we're safe here. In the shadows, that's everything.
{{GM}}She laughs.{{/GM}}

No, you wouldn't. It's monsoon season. Believe me, you're lucky that you have a roof over your head.

Sorry if the accommodations aren't up to your usual standards, but you're safe here. Try to be thankful for that.
Yeah, sure... considered it a bunch of times. I never really cared enough to actually *do* it, though.

{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

You wanna call 'er something else? I'm open to it.
I want a strong name. How about the "Defiance"?
The "Revenge" feels appropriate.
Let's go with something classical. The "Dowager Empress" has a nice ring to it.
Let's call her the "Kraken."
The "Big Texas." That's what we're calling her. Tell me you don't love it.
On second thought, let's stick with the Bolthole.
I wanna go back to calling her the "Bolthole."
Aye aye, cap'n. The Defiance it is.

{{GM}}She nods thoughtfully.{{/GM}}

Yeah, that's really not bad... I think that the others will be happy with it.
Yeah... yeah, I like it. Okay, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)... the Revenge it is.

{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

Yeah. That feels right.
Uh. Yeah. Sure, I guess.

{{GM}}She nods thoughtfully.{{/GM}}

What the hell, let's roll with it. The Dowager Empress she is.
Aye aye, cap'n! The Kraken it is.

{{GM}}She nods enthusiastically.{{/GM}}

Yeah, that's actually pretty good... I think that the others will be happy with it.
{{GM}}She does her best to stifle a laugh.{{/GM}}

Uhhh... yeah. Sure. That's... that's pretty good, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). You get a gold star for that one.
But we're using it, right?
You don't like it, do you?
{{GM}}She rolls her eyes.{{/GM}}

Sure. Why the hell not? The Big Texas. That's just what we'll call her.

I'm sure that Izz will be thrilled.
I think that it's absurd. But then, we live in a pretty ridiculous world, so why not roll with it?

{{GM}}The corner of her mouth curls up.{{/GM}}

Yeah, the Big Texas is just what we'll call her. I'm sure that Izz will be thrilled.
Hey, whatever you want. It doesn't matter all that much to me either way.
Really? That's the best that you can come up with? "Let's go back to the old placeholder name"?

All right, whatever. The Once and Future Bolthole gets her old name back. Woo.
{{GM}}She lets out an exasperated sigh.{{/GM}}

All right. We can change it again. Just do me a favor and make up your mind this time, okay?
Still remember that, do you? Huh.

I'd just sort of assumed that you'd laugh that off.
No dice, "wizened mentor." You offered. Now pay up.
Maybe I should have.
In that case, forget it.
{{GM}}She straightens.{{/GM}}

Um. Okay. How about this: I'll tell you a story about a run gone bad. You tell me what you'd've done in the runners' place, and then we'll compare notes on your answer.

How does that sound?
You tell me. You're the teacher here, remember?
Works for me, I guess.
Right. It sounds good. Of course it does.

So that's what we'll do.
She sweeps a tangled rope of hair out of her eyes and back over one pointed ear.

After a moment of silent contemplation, she bites her lip and nods.
...Okay. So this is a story from early in my career. I was a part of a team here in HK, but I did some occasional moonlighting for another group based out of Macau.

I was a busy kid.
Early in your career? So you were, what, like... twelve years old?
Who was on this other team? Anyone I might know?
The job was a hit on this tower - sort of a trid multiplex-slash-apartment complex.

I'm sure that they've got 'em in Seattle, too... you know the kind. Seven huge screens, monster concession stand, coffin apartments on top like barnacles on a whale?
I used to go to one back in Seattle. Best way to watch Urban Brawl.
Never been to one, but I've heard of them.
I lived in one for a while. Every time they showed an action movie, the walls would shake.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

Good. You know what I'm talking about, then.
Our client wanted us to break into one of the apartments. The story was that an ex of hers - a guy named Boggs - lived there. She'd been cooped up with him until about a week prior, then things went sour in a big way.

She wanted us to get back some things that Boggs kept when he kicked her out. Scare the shit out of him, bloody him up a bit, make it look like a robbery. You know the drill.
Sounds more like a job for thrill gangers than full-fledged shadowrunners.
I pulled a few jobs like that myself back when I lived in the Barrens.
It was a standard smash-and-grab, then.
Yeah. It was a pretty bush-league gig, but the pay was decent enough. Not the sort of thing you'd turn down.

So anyway, Sibilance - that was our group leader - had a plan. We knew that we had to go in quiet because the metroplex had a panic system wired directly to the HKPF. If we'd gone in shooting, we'd've been drowning in cops within ten minutes.
Sib thought that we could maybe take advantage of the apartments' terrible soundproofing and kick in Boggs' door when the movie got loud.

We'd camp out near his doorway, wait for the ceiling to start raining plaster, then smash our way in with his neighbors none the wiser.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Academic{{/CC}} This sounds kind of familiar...
Doesn't sound like a bad plan.
There's no way that would work.
Yeah, it's pretty close to what John Wilkes Booth did when he assassinated Lincoln.

Sib was an amateur historian. Used to bore the rest of us to tears, but I guess that it could occasionally come in handy.
So we waited in the hall, just like Sibilance planned. We had a guy on the elevator, another at the stairs. I was waiting by the floor's communal kitchen.

Sib took up a position by the door. She had these cyberlegs that she'd dumped a ton of nuyen into... hydraulic jacks, strength enhancements, the works. Girl could probably leg press a dump truck.
{{GM}}She pauses for a moment.{{/GM}}

...Come to think of it, most of her plans involved kicking things.

There's something a little sad about that.
Focus, Gobbet.
Hey, if that was her thing, I wouldn't question it.
And this woman was the best suited to lead this particular group of runners?
Right. The story. Right.

So we heard a boom from downstairs. Felt the walls shake with the reverb.

Sib wheeled back and gave the door a massive kick, just as she'd planned.
From where I was standing, I couldn't really see what happened next. I could hear a massive crack as her boot slammed into duraplast.

The door flew off its hinges... "exploded off" might be a more accurate phrase. A second later we heard an ungodly crash.
There was a moment of silence. Then Sib let out this little gasp.

The apartment was in shambles. It looked like a hurricane had hit it. Everything was trashed... everything but the door, which was miraculously still in one piece.
Remember that this was a coffin apartment. It wasn't much wider than the door was to begin with.

And Boggs... well, what was left of him was under the door, too.
That didn't turn out well.
Oh no.
Well, you got the "rough him up" part right.
Yeah... it wasn't good.

Boggs was dead, and the stuff that we'd been sent there to recover had been smashed to bits. And then the building alarm went off.
So, that's the situation. Our payday is smashed. My temporary teammates are all standing around with stupid looks on their faces. The cops are coming. I'm standing by the kitchen.

{{GM}}She plants her hands on her hips, smiling.{{/GM}}

What would you have done in my place?
Your group was in trouble. I'd have rallied with them, tried to help them fight their way past the cops and out.
Sibilance created this situation. You weren't even a part of her team - you were subcontracting. I'd have cut and run.
Damage control. I'd've looked for blackmail material to protect myself from a soon-to-be angry client.
I'd've tried to improvise. Was there anything in the kitchen you could use to resolve the situation?
We'd just been defeated by an inanimate object, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). We got our asses kicked by a plastic door and the power of our own ambition.

Fighting off waves of cops above a crowded movie theater didn't feel like the best of moves at the time.
So what did you do?
{{GM}}She nods thoughtfully.{{/GM}}

Fair. That isn't what I did, but don't think that it didn't cross my mind.
The first thing that popped into my head. That's a lesson to remember, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)... the first answer that you come up with is almost always the best one you're gonna have, so just roll with it.

Don't second-guess yourself, don't hesitate, just *act.* You'll live longer that way.
As for what I did that night? Well, I was standing by a kitchen, remember.

I *could've* cut and run - I looked like any other street kid, I'd have blended in - but instead, I decided to stay and *help* my team.
When I think "crowded theater," I think "place where you can't shout 'fire!' because it'll cause a panic." And then I thought, "Cops don't charge into burning buildings! They help people get out of them!"

And as it happened, I had the means to create real, *genuine* fire sitting right across from me. A pair of industrial ovens!
You set the building on fire?
Yeah, sure. Makes sense to me, I guess.
Gobbet... I don't think that I can imagine an idea much worse than that.
I encouraged it to burn. Opened the gas vents wide, set the range on a timer, and motored back into the hallway.

The others had started arguing amongst themselves. I told them to snap out of it and follow me down into the lobby - we had to clear the hallway before an errant spark took the whole floor out.
Unfortunately, the rest of the group wouldn't listen. Sib and the rest of the team were too busy arguing about the relative merits of her "let's kick things really hard and see what happens" tactical system to want anything to do with me.

I shouted back to them that the kitchen was going to explode and continued down the hallway.
Just like I'd planned, I got out of that run in one piece. So did every single one of the people in that multiplex.

My fire plan worked beautifully. If the rest of the team had listened to me, they might have gotten out of the building, too... kind of a bummer that they didn't, but at least the run turned out well for me.
Um. How?
Your team burned to death!
All's well that ends well, I guess.
Well, I couldn't collect any pay because the run had been a disaster. But after the explosion I got to ride in the front of the fire truck, and they gave me cookies and a blanket. I wound up dating one of those firemen a few weeks later.

All things considered, it could have gone a lot worse.
Gobbet claps her hands together and rubs them, a satisfied look on her face.
So, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname).

{{GM}}The laughter disappears from her voice, and her expression goes serious. It's like somebody flipped a switch - suddenly, the look in her eyes is shrewd. Calculating.{{/GM}}

Tell me. What was the moral of this story? What lesson was I trying to convey?
“Don’t go on shadowruns with idiots”?
“Go with your gut,” I guess?
“Fire solves all problems.”
I’m sorry, did that story have a point?
Ha. Funny $(l.guy).

{{GM}}She frowns.{{/GM}}

While that is *a* lesson... maybe even a valuable one... it isn't what I was trying to convey. Now pay attention, because this is important.
What I was *trying* to teach you is that you should trust your impulses. When a run has gone south and you need to improvise, don't overthink it.

{{GM}}She scratches Folly behind the ears.{{/GM}}

Once you've committed to doing something, you've gotta follow it through, though. No arguing or hand-wringing, just *do it.*
{{GM}}She nods sagely.{{/GM}}

That's right. Trust your impulses, and don't be afraid to wing it. Almost any action is better than no action at all.

Once you've committed to doing something, you've gotta follow it through, though… no arguing or hand-wringing, just *do it.*
If you get caught up in your own head, agonizing over past mistakes… well, don’t be surprised if you wind up dead.

A kitchen fire can take you down as easily as a cop’s bullet if you stand around and let it.
Well, that's *a* lesson, I guess. I, uh, wouldn't say that I agree with it, but if that's your major takeaway, well...

{{GM}}She frowns.{{/GM}}

I think that I've just learned an important lesson about you.
Now, what I was *trying* to teach you is that you should trust your impulses.

Unless those impulses involve burning things indiscriminately. Then you should maybe question them.

But *in general,* it's better to act than it is to stand around thinking about your next move, especially after the run has already gone sideways.
Aside from being a masterfully crafted romp delivered by a world-class storyteller?

{{GM}}She glares at you, her eyes full of reproach.{{/GM}}

Yes, of course it had a point. It was a lesson, dimwit. Now pay attention.
{{GM}}She crosses her arms over her chest.{{/GM}}

Look, they screwed *themselves* over when Sib kicked in that door. They were in a heap of trouble, and what I did would have gotten them out of it if they'd *listened* to me.

Know how I know? Because it got *me* out. They could have followed me, but instead, they chose to argue until they exploded. That's on them, not me.
Of course, I couldn't collect any pay because the run had been a disaster. But after the explosion I got to ride in the front of the fire truck, and they gave me cookies and a blanket. I wound up dating one of those firemen a few weeks later.

All things considered, it could have gone a lot worse.
That's right! You take what you're given and make the best of it. And that's what I did.

I couldn't collect any pay, of course... the run had been a disaster. But after the explosion I got to ride in the front of the fire truck, and they gave me cookies and a blanket. I wound up dating one of those firemen a few weeks later, so it all worked out in the end.
Right? It was clearly the best available option.

I opened the gas vents wide, set the range on a timer, and motored back into the hallway.
The others had started arguing amongst themselves. I told them to snap out of it and follow me down into the lobby.

"We have to clear the hallway before an errant spark takes the whole floor out," I said. Sounded pretty reasonable to me.
No? Well, then, the joke is on you, because I carried it out *fantastically.*

I opened the gas vents wide, set the range on a timer, and motored back into the hallway.
Good thinking! As it happens, there was, and I knew just what to do with it. The thought popped into my head and I just went with it.

{{GM}}She taps her temple with a smile.{{/GM}}
That's a lesson to remember, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)... the first answer that you come up with is almost always the best one you're gonna have, so just roll with it.

Don't second-guess yourself, don't hesitate, just *act.* You'll live longer that way.
Now, when I think "crowded theater," I think "place where you can't shout 'fire!' because it'll cause a panic." And then I thought, "Cops don't charge into burning buildings! They help people get out of them!"

And as it happened, I had the means to create real, *genuine* fire sitting right across from me. A pair of industrial ovens!
Yeah. Unfortunately, he wound up a lot rougher than he was supposed to be.

{{GM}}Her nose crinkles in discomfort.{{/GM}}

That door really did a number on him. Ribs sticking out of the skin, that kind of thing. It was a bloody mess.
...So, yeah. Boggs was dead. The stuff that we'd been sent to the apartment to recover had been smashed to bits.

And then the building alarm went off.
Yeah... you're very supportive.

Me, I'd have preferred to work for someone who thought with her head instead of her robot legs.
Anyway. We heard a boom from downstairs. Felt the walls shake with the reverb.

Sib wheeled back and gave the door a massive kick, just as she'd planned.
Tragically, yes. Everyone else was various shades of amoral or screwed in the head.

Sibilance might've had a tendency to solve all of her problems the same way, but she was better than the alternatives.
Well, it had the virtue of being simple, I'll give it that. But still, that didn't stop things from going... the way that they did.
I dunno... it might've, if things had gone different. But it's what we did, so pipe down and let me tell you the rest of the story.
It was a pretty bush-league gig, but the pay was decent enough. Not the sort of thing you'd turn down.

So anyway, Sibilance - that was our group leader - had a plan. We knew that we had to go in quiet because the metroplex had a panic system wired directly to the HKPF. If we'd gone in shooting, we'd've been drowning in cops within ten minutes.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

Yeah, that'll happen.
{{GM}}Her eyes narrow in mock indignation.{{/GM}}

You say that like I couldn't have been. When I was twelve, I could've *destroyed* you.

And also, I was sixteen. Practically an adult. You're an ork, you know how fast we grow up.
{{GM}}Her eyes narrow in mock indignation.{{/GM}}

You say that like I couldn't have been. When I was twelve, I could've *destroyed* you.

And also, I was sixteen. Practically an adult in ork years. We grow up fast.
Anyway. The job was a hit on this tower - sort of a trid multiplex-slash-apartment complex.

I'm sure that they've got 'em in Seattle, too... you know the kind. Seven huge screens, monster concession stand, coffin apartments on top like barnacles on a whale?
Not unless you can talk to dead people.

{{GM}}She pauses. Raises an eyebrow.{{/GM}}

That was a spoiler, by the way. The run didn't end well.
No, no, wait... you're right, I made the offer. It's only fair that I pay up.

Besides, you need to learn this stuff somehow.
{{GM}}She straightens.{{/GM}}

All right, here's what we're gonna do. I'll tell you a story about a run gone bad. You tell me what you'd've done in the runners' place, and then we'll compare notes on your answer.

How does that sound?
{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

They weren't with me when I got evacuated with the rest of the moviegoers. I never saw them leave the building, and I haven't heard from 'em since.
I guess it's possible that somebody made it... but I don't really run in those circles anymore. Odds are good that if anyone from the Macau team did survive, they'll have died off by now from sheer incompetence.

Shadowrunning is an unforgiving business. You don't get to make too many mistakes.
$(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). I'm hurt. It all went down exactly like I said it did.

{{GM}}She pauses.{{/GM}}

Well, except for a couple of embellishments here and there. But they make it a better story. Artistic license, and all that.
Gobbet leans back and stifles a yawn. Madness and Folly dart up to her left shoulder and lock their beady eyes on you.
Hate to break it to you, kiddo, but I'm beat. It's been a long day.

Lesson's over for now. We'll pick it back up next time.
All right, Gobbet. I'll catch you next time.
Watch who you're calling "kiddo." I'm older than you are.
Yeah, sounds good. I'll have your next lesson ready and waiting, too.

{{GM}}She makes a brushing motion with her fingers.{{/GM}}

Scurry along now. Your mentor needs her rest.
Yeah, yeah, whatever.

{{GM}}She makes a brushing motion with her fingers.{{/GM}}

Scurry along now. Your mentor needs her rest.
No problem. Sweet dreams.
Exactly, right? It may not be fine dining, but it's seafood, and it isn't made of soy. That makes it good in my book.

{{GM}}She tilts back the tin, drains the remaining juice, and then flicks it into the overflowing bin at her side.{{/GM}}

So... what can I do for you?
C'mon, it isn't that bad... I mean, it's seafood, and it isn't made of soy. That's gotta count for something, right?

{{GM}}She tilts back the tin, drains the remaining juice, and then flicks it into the overflowing bin at her side.{{/GM}}

Waste not, want not. What can I do for you?
{{GM}}She shrugs, then pops the oyster into her own mouth.{{/GM}}

Suit yourself. So, are you here for a reason...?
{{GM}}She looks hurt.{{/GM}}

Kill you? I'm offering you a gift! A gift of *friendship.*

{{GM}}Gobbet waggles her finger under your nose. The oyster clings to her nail like a wad of chewing gum.{{/GM}}

C'mon. Eat the oyster.
Hey again. What's up?
Gobbet looks up from her hot plate at the sound of your approach. A smile creases her face.

She raises her eyebrows and gestures at the cabin around you.
Y'know, the $(story.Global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName) has really been shaping up over the past few days.

With all of the work that we've been putting into her, she's starting to feel like a real home.
Anyway. Enough about the boat.

{{GM}}She puts her hands on her hips, sending Madness scurrying.{{/GM}}

Ready for your next lesson? Or did you just want to chat?
Is it too late to change the name of the boat?
I'm ready for my next lesson.
Let's get back to the lesson you were teaching.
That's all for now, Gobbet. Talk to you later.
'Fraid so, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). Everyone's gotten pretty attached to it... we all like the $(story.Global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName) just fine as she is.

Besides, I've already painted her name on the side of the hull.
But I don't like it anymore.
All right. Just checking.
That's tough. Have you ever painted a boat before? No? Then stop talking.

It took me two hours and a whole roll of butcher paper to cut that stupid stencil, and I'm not making another one.
Good. Now that we've got that out of the way, is there anything else that you need?
Yeah?

{{GM}}She smiles.{{/GM}}

That's good. I was hoping that you'd want to keep going with this. It's good for you, and I'm kind of enjoying it, too.
Gobbet runs a hand through the knotted ropes of her hair, a contemplative look on her face. A moment later, she turns her attention back to you.
All right. This is gonna be another long story, so I'm thinking we should take it in chunks. If you've got any questions, you can ask 'em along the way, and if you need to take a break we can come back to it.

Sound good?
Sure, sounds good.
However you wanna do it is fine by me.
Don't ask, tell. You're the one who's running this show, remember?
Good.

So last time, I told you about the event that brought an end to my illustrious career as a subcontractor. This time, I’m gonna tell you about a run that I went on with my regular team.
Nightjar’s team, you mean?
Was this where you started running with Is0bel?
No. This was long before I hooked up with them.

Izz was still learning to deck back then. She was good for her age, but she wasn't ready for prime time. And it'd be another couple of years before I'd meet Nightjar or Auntie Cheng.
You don't know anyone from the group that I'm talking about.

They’re all gone now, anyway.
Wait. You lost three other teams before you hooked up with me?
Sorry.
You've had a rough career, haven't you?
Yeah. I did. Thanks for rubbing it in.

{{GM}}The words are rueful, but her tone is soft.{{/GM}}
Touchy, touchy.
Don't worry about it, I'm fine. When you run the shadows, losing people is an occupational hazard.

{{GM}}She offers you a lopsided smile.{{/GM}}

As shadowrunners, we're disposable assets. It shouldn't come as a surprise when we get used up and tossed away.
It was the same way in the Barrens. Here today, gone tomorrow.
That's a little grim.
Hey, nobody lives forever. We all get flushed down the same chute in the end.
Yeah. You know how it is. People die, and it's sad, but there's no sense moping about it.
{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

Shadowrunners get killed all the time. There's no sense moping about it.
Yeah. Maybe I am. But I'll bet that if I poked into all of the people you'd lost over the years, you'd get touchy, too.
Anyway. The truth is, I'm mostly over it. When you run the shadows, losing people is an occupational hazard.

{{GM}}She offers you a lopsided smile.{{/GM}}

As shadowrunners, we're disposable assets. It shouldn't come as a surprise when we get used up and tossed away.
Thanks, but it's all right. When you run the shadows, losing people is an occupational hazard.

{{GM}}She offers you a lopsided smile.{{/GM}}

As shadowrunners, we're disposable assets. It shouldn't come as a surprise when we get used up and tossed away.
Yeah... I guess that I have. But I'm still alive.

That's something. Puts me ahead of a lot of other runners I've known.
The truth of the matter is, as runners, dying on the job is an occupational hazard.

We're disposable assets. It shouldn't come as a surprise when we get used up and tossed away.
No. This was long before Izz hit the streets as a runner.

We were friends and everything, but she was still learning to deck back then. She was good for her age, but she wasn't ready for prime time.
Of course I remember.

{{GM}}She folds her arms over her chest.{{/GM}}

And you're right, I'm the teacher here. So shut up and listen until I tell you not to.
All right. So last time, I told you about the event that brought an end to my illustrious career as a subcontractor.

This time, I’m gonna tell you about a run that I went on with my regular team.
Works for me. Let's get back to it.
Tell me about the team that you were running with.
How did you meet this group of yours?
Okay, I think that I've got a grasp on the team dynamic. Keep going.
I'd like to hear more about the Sinking Ship.
Let's get back to the story. When we left off, you and Tsui were on your way to get the Shiny Object, right?
Gobbet... was there a point to this story? I'm trying to find a moral here.
Can you tell me more about the Sinking Ship?
Let's take a break and come back to this later.
Sure.

{{GM}}She extends a hand so that she can count off teammates on her fingers. Madness scurries down her sleeve and perches on her forearm.{{/GM}}
Our muscle was a Hawaiian Jew with poor impulse control. Big, round guy with lumberjack arms and ringlets in his hair.

He called himself "Honu." I guess that he loved turtles? I dunno, street names are weird.
We had a tech specialist, Egret... she was tall, gawky, dyed her hair bone white. She had a drone named Arlo that followed her around like a lost puppy.

She was kind of a jack of all trades, but she could get the job done. Fun at parties, too.
Our de facto team leader was a guy named Tsui. He was a wiry troll, if you can imagine that... probably about two percent body fat, all skin and bones. Walked with a hunch to make himself look smaller.

He was a shaman. Followed Rat, like me.
Sounds like an interesting group of people.
There can't be many troll Rat shamans out there.
It was. But then, everyone I've worked with has been interesting in his or her own way. As a rule, shadowrunning isn't a profession that attracts boring people.
Not that I've met. But Tsui seemed like a really good guy. We got along fine.

I actually really liked everyone on the team. They were a lot of fun to run with.
Through mutual friends. We actually all lived together before we decided to start running as a team.

There was this floating squatters' commune out in Hung Hom Bay. It's probably still out there, actually... I haven't been back in a long time. But I spent a few years living on the thing, and the rest of the team lived there with me.
Squatters' commune?
You lived on a... what, a raft?
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

Yep. We called it "the Sinking Ship." It was like an enormous raft, all bolted together from old shipping containers.

Wasn't the most comfortable place I've ever lived, but the price was right and the company was good.
Yeah, basically. We called it "the Sinking Ship."

It wasn't much to look at - just a whole bunch of shipping containers, all bolted together into a great big floating brick.

Wasn't the most comfortable place I've ever lived, but the price was right and the company was good.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

All right. Moving on.
So one day, Tsui brought us a job. He'd met a client in a Victoria Harbour bar, a rich Eastern Tiger exec.

The guy wanted us to steal something for him. A "shiny object."
{{GM}}She raises her hands.{{/GM}}

I know, I know. It's stupid, right? But that was how the Johnson described it to us. The Shiny Object.

That was what he wanted us to get. He never gave it any other name.
I would've given it a name.
Seriously? A Rat shaman hired to steal a shiny object?
All right. So what'd the client tell you about this thing?
Yeah, well, you weren't there.

Tsui brought us the gig, and he called it the Shiny Object, so we just sort of... went along with it.
Yeah.

You can see how the gig would be hard for us to resist.
Anyway, the client told us what to look for. He described it as a chunk of red jade about the size and shape of an ostrich egg, with a mirror-polished surface and gold wire inlays.

He said that it'd have paper charms hanging off of it... Fu talismans, Taoist sorcery stuff. We weren't supposed to touch those.
He gave us a physical description. We were supposed to look for a chunk of red jade about the size and shape of an ostrich egg, with a mirror-polished surface and gold wire inlays.

He said that it'd have paper charms hanging off of it... Fu talismans, Taoist sorcery stuff. We weren't supposed to touch those.
The client also told us about the Shiny Object's then owner: an old hedge wizard-turned-entrepreneur named Kong Xiuyan.
Hedge wizard?
And where was he supposed to be keeping the thing?
So you were supposed to steal a crystal ball from a wizard, essentially.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

He had the whole "wise old sage" thing going on. He had the robes, the little hat, the kind smile. Oh, and the pièce de résistance - a long, wispy beard.

He was mean as a snake, though. Had a rep to prove it.
Intel said that old man Xiuyan was keeping the Shiny Object in one of his warehouses. He had a bunch of them - he'd built himself a nice little empire selling magical paraphernalia through puppet vendors in the Yau Ma Tei night market.

Supposedly, a good fifth of the stalls in that place were on Xiuyan's payroll.
Got it. Keep going.
Yeah? What kinds of magical paraphernalia are we talking about?
Magical objects, huh? You've got my attention.
So we'd cased the warehouse for a couple of nights before the run. Y'know, did some recon, took some notes.

From what we'd seen, we were pretty sure that Xiuyan was keeping our payday in vault area at the very back of the building. Security was pretty heavy, though... he was paying a local triad for protection, and he kept a lot of their boys on staff.
{{GM}}She begins counting off examples on her fingers.{{/GM}}

Pickled reagents in mason jars. Hermetic scrolls and charms. Relics looted from Buddhist temples, crates of old Balinese Rangda masks, and fist-sized stones from a Great Dragon's kidney.

Xiuyan sold it all. How he got his hands on it in the first place is anyone's guess.
I get the picture.
Some of that stuff sounds valuable.
Good. Thought you might.

We'd cased the warehouse for a couple of nights before the run, and we were pretty sure that Xiuyan was keeping our payday in the vault area at the very back of the building. But the old man had enough triad protection that we'd have to be sneaky to get there.
Tsui was the one who came up with the plan. We'd split up outside and enter the warehouse in two teams.

Team A would create a diversion. Team B would hit the vault while security was looking the other way. We'd grab our payday, regroup, and get the hell out of there.
Seems straightforward enough. How'd it work out?
That's pretty much what I'd have done in your place.
In my experience, splitting the group is almost always more trouble than it's worth.
Surprisingly well... up to a point.
Team A - Honu and Egret - circled around to the loading dock, just like we'd planned.

Tsui and I waited by the service entrance.
We didn't have to wait long. A couple of minutes in, we heard this ungodly crash. Then another, and another.

As it turns out, Egret had rigged into Xiuyan's network of automated forklifts. She had six of them running amok in the loading dock, chasing down workers and crashing themselves into anything marked "fragile."
Sounds like a good time.
The next time we're on a run with a loading dock, remind me about the forklift trick.
Subtle.
I know, right?

{{GM}}A dreamy smile spreads across her face.{{/GM}}

I wish I could've been there to see it.
Egret's distraction did what it was supposed to. As Tsui and I watched, most of the triad guys at the service entrance abandoned their posts and went hauling off toward the loading dock. A couple guys with baseball bats stayed back, but we handled them easily enough.

We slipped inside and made a beeline for the back of the warehouse, where the Shiny Object was supposed to be.
And did you find it there?
Let me guess. Something went wrong.
You weren't kidding about this being a long story. Can we call it here, maybe come back to this later?
Yeah, actually. It was there, just like we thought it'd be. The door was open and everything.

The Shiny Object was sitting there in a teak cradle, gleaming with reflected light. Just like the client had said, it had a ring of Taoist talismans hanging off of it like a grass skirt, the paper all crinkled with age.
We didn't waste any time. I reached in and grabbed the thing.

It felt strange through my gloves. The jade sort of, uh... pulsed. As if it had a heartbeat.
That sounds ominous.
I'd have made Tsui carry it. The run was his idea, right?
Yeah, tell me about it. I wanted to drop the thing, but it was our payday, so I slipped it into my satchel instead. I couldn't get the flap closed quickly enough.

The package being secure, Tsui and I turned to hightail it out of there. And then things went to shit.
Did you run into more security?
Did the Shiny Object do something unpredictable?
Worse.

Old Man Xiuyan himself was standing right there in front of us, larger than life, with sparks shooting out of his eyes.
I'm guessing that when he heard the commotion in the loading dock, he'd come running - well, waddling - to make sure that his treasure was safe. And as it turns out, it wasn't, because I'd already stolen it.

He looked displeased.
What'd you do?
He was an old man, and there were two of you. How much of a threat could he be?
What do you think we did? He had our backs to a wall.

We lit the old bastard up.
It was pretty epic, truth be told. Spirits were summoned, spells were discharged. The vault door sealed behind Xiuyan like something out of a movie.

At one point, the old man leapt onto Tsui's back and tried to bite his ear off.
I won't bore you with a play-by-play of how the fight went down. In the end, we crushed him.

Unfortunately, the fighting had caused some collateral damage.
At some point during our showdown with Xiuyan, the control panel for the vault door must've eaten an arc of lightning or the blast of a powerball. It was toast, all black and melted. And neither of us could fix it.
So you were trapped in the vault?
That sounds bad.
How am I not surprised?
Yeah. That's about the size of it. And it was only a matter of time before the old man's remaining security guys found us in there.
There was still one way out. A ventilation duct, up high in the rafters. But it was too small for Tsui to fit through... he was a troll, after all.

I had the Shiny Object. But if I left Tsui there and security got to him, well... you do the math.
So. Here's the conundrum.

I've got our payday in my satchel. The team is split. It's inevitable that more triad 49ers are going to find us, but we don't know when or how many.

Egret and Honu are holding their own in the loading dock... for now.
I can stay with Tsui to help fight off the inevitable wave of triad 49ers, but we'll be badly outmatched. Like, *badly.*

The odds of survival won't look good for either of us.
If Egret weren't pinned down in the loading dock, she could probably get the vault door open. But in order to get to her, I'll have to leave Tsui alone in the vault.

If Xiuyan's reinforcements find Tsui before I get back with Egret, well...

{{GM}}She uses her thumb to draw a line across her neck.{{/GM}}
So that's the scenario, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). Not a lot to work with, I know.

Now tell me. What should I do?
Stick with Tsui. Try to hold off security reinforcements until Honu and Egret can free themselves up and come help.
Well, you've got a dangerous magical artifact in your pouch, right? I think I'd try to use it.
Take the gamble and go for Egret. It's the plan with the best chance of success.
You've got the payday in your pouch. I'd have cut my losses, climbed into the vent, and bailed.
{{GM}}She sighs.{{/GM}}

Yeah, I guess I could've done that. Maybe it would've worked.

More likely we'd both have gotten gunned down in the vault, but who knows? This is the Sixth World! Miracles happen every day!
Anyway, that wasn't what I did.

I saw what I thought could be a way to save the day, so I went ahead and took it.
I fished the Shiny Object out of my bag. I still remember how the Taoist talismans that ringed the thing crinkled in my hands.

I remember shrugging, saying "the hell with it." I put the thing in Tsui's bare hands and told him to go nuts.
{{GM}}She nods, unsmiling.{{/GM}}

That's the most stylish answer, isn't it? Just audacious enough to be fun. It popped into my head right then and there, same as it did yours.

So that's what I did. No hesitation, I just made it happen.
It was almost like Tsui had been waiting for me to pass him the thing. He seemed eager to take it.

He hugged that chunk of rock to his chest like a newborn baby. Colors swam in the stone, and something changed in his eyes.

Then Old Man Xiuyan's 49ers breached the door, and Tsui unleashed hell.
She pauses, frowning. Stops scratching Folly and uses the hand to rub her eyes.

Finally, she turns back to you. A sour look pinches her features.
What went down in that room... well, I've only seen that kind of carnage a couple of times in my life, and I've been running the shadows for years.

Those triad men were torn to scraps by the end of it. Don't think I'll ever forget the sounds that they made.
{{GM}}She clears her throat.{{/GM}}

I, uh, spent most of the fight huddled up in the corner for my own safety.

What Tsui let loose from the stone didn't seem terribly interested in discriminating between friend and foe.
What do you mean by that? Did he summon hostile spirits, or something?
That's what I would've done. Why fight if you don't have to?
Something like that.

Truth be told, I don't know what they were... like I said, I was hiding. But he couldn't have done it without the Shiny Object, not in a million years.

Whatever they were, the rock brought them here.
So what happened then?
{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

We waited for things to calm down in the vault, and for the things to go slithering away. I think that Tsui had some limited control over them, which is why they didn't eat us.

After they were gone, Tsui gave me the Shiny Object back, I put it in my satchel, and we bailed.
We collected the others on the way out. They were blissfully ignorant of what'd happened on the other side of the warehouse, and I didn't see a reason to change that.

We hightailed it back to the docks and caught the first boat back to the Sinking Ship. Mission accomplished.
Gobbet looks away again. Stares off into space.
From what I'm told, people still avoid Xiuyan's warehouse like the plague. It's supposed to be haunted, even to this day... people who set foot in the building keep turning up dead.

Pretty sure I'm one of the only living people who knows why.
{{GM}}Abruptly, her body language changes.{{/GM}}

Anyway. That's it, lesson's over. If you've got any questions, go ahead.
Right. Exactly. So we waited for the pets that Tsui summoned and Xiuyan's 49ers to wipe each other out.

It didn't take long.
Could've done that, I guess. It might've worked.

Of course, it could've gotten Tsui gunned down in a vault, too. But in retrospect, that wouldn't have been a huge loss.
Yeah, well. That isn't what I did.

Maybe I should've... in the grand scheme of things, it might've been better if I had.
It was bad. I had our payday in my satchel, but we were stuck in that vault. And it was only a matter of time before the old man's remaining security guys found us in there.
You shouldn't be. Magical duels are no joke.

So yeah, we were stuck in the vault. I had the payday in my satchel, but it was only a matter of time before the old man's remaining security guys found us in there.
Oh, plenty. He was a mage, remember? Plus, he was pretty spry for his age.

We opened up on him, but he wasn't exactly a pushover.
No. Not the Shiny Object.

Old Man Xiuyan.
He was standing there, right in front of us, larger than life.

I'm guessing that when he heard the commotion in the loading dock, he'd come running - well, waddling - to make sure that his treasure was safe.
As it turns out, it wasn't, because I'd already stolen the thing.

He looked displeased.
Yeah, well, it was my job to carry the thing. I didn't want to complain about it.

Anyway, I had my satchel with me, so I stashed the rock in there. Couldn't get the flap closed quickly enough.
The package being secure, Tsui and I turned to hightail it out of there.

And then things went to shit.
No, actually. It was there, just like we thought it'd be. The door was open and everything.

The Shiny Object was sitting there in a teak cradle, gleaming with reflected light. Just like the client had said, it had a ring of Taoist talismans hanging off of it like a grass skirt, the paper all crinkled with age.
Yeah, sure. No problem at all.

So, uh... was there something else that you wanted to talk about?
It's awesome, right?

{{GM}}A dreamy smile spreads across her face.{{/GM}}

Egret really outdid herself. I wish that I could've been there to see it.
It wasn't *supposed* to be subtle. She was making a distraction, remember?

Honestly, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname), you need to start paying attention.
*Anyway,* Egret's distraction did what it was supposed to do. As Tsui and I watched, most of the triad guys at the service entrance abandoned their posts and went hauling off toward the loading dock.

A couple guys with baseball bats stayed back, but we handled them easily enough.
We slipped inside and made a beeline for the back of the warehouse, where the Shiny Object was supposed to be.
Yeah, it wasn't a bad plan. And it went surprisingly well... at least, to a point.
I'd agree with you if we were going in expecting a straight fight. But as a shadowrunner, you should almost never want to get into one of those.

When you're on a job, you're always gonna be outnumbered and outgunned. Going quiet is inherently safer than going loud, and if splitting the group is what it takes to do that...

{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}
Anyway, Team A - Honu and Egret - circled around to the loading dock, just like we'd planned.

Tsui and I waited by the service entrance.
Yeah... I'm sure that some of it was. Most of it was crap, though. Fakes and forgeries to sell to gullible tourists.

Sifting the good stuff from the bad would've taken time, and we weren't planning on sticking around long enough to do that.
Fair enough.
Well, some of it was magic. A lot of what was in that warehouse was crap, though. Fakes and forgeries to sell to gullible tourists.

Still, there was some nice stuff on display... magical reagents and the like. But sifting the good from the bad would've taken time, and we weren't planning on sticking around long enough to do that.
When you boil it down like that, it sounds kind of silly, doesn't it?

{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

But hey... that's the world we live in. And like I said, Xiuyan wasn't just a wizard. He was an entrepreneur. A business-wizard. The guy had resources.
From what we were told, the old man was keeping the Shiny Object in one of his warehouses. He had a bunch of them - he'd built himself a nice little empire selling magical paraphernalia through puppet vendors in the Yau Ma Tei night market.

Supposedly, a good fifth of the stalls in that place were on Xiuyan's payroll.
Let's hold off on that for a little bit, okay? I'd like to get through the rest of this story before we spend any more time on the raft.

After your lesson's over, I'll tell you whatever you wanna know about the commune, but for now I'd rather not get sidetracked.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

That's right. When last we left our heroes, Tsui and I were beelining for the vault where Old Man Xiuyan kept his most valuable possessions. And lo and behold, it was there, just like we thought it'd be. The door was open and everything.
The Shiny Object was sitting there in a teak cradle, gleaming with reflected light.

Just like the client had said, it had a ring of Taoist talismans hanging off of it like a grass skirt, the paper all crinkled with age.
There was when I started telling it. I'd thought I was gonna tell you to be comfortable with breaking the rules.

I don't think I'm gonna say that now, though. I'm not feeling it anymore.
Why not? At least your team made it out of this run alive.
They didn't stay that way for long. But let's leave that for next time, huh? I don't want to get into it just now.
Yeah, sure. The story's over, so we can get into it.
I moved onto the Sinking Ship when I was just a kid... I think that I was twelve, maybe thirteen years old at the time?

In the beginning, it was just me and a couple of Rat shaman friends, Cadmus and Malvina. They were older, but they were always cool to me.
Did your friends build the raft?
Is it typical for groups of Rat shamans to congregate like that?
A raft seems like a funny choice of homes for a bunch of street shamans.
No, no way. Cadmus probably could've, but he didn't.

He and Malvina, ah, "appropriated" it from its former owners.
There was a team of shadowrunners that had lived on the thing before us, but they bit it on a job. Cad and Mal heard the knock of opportunity, and they claimed the raft for Rat in record time.

Taking over the Sinking Ship wasn't an easy job, mind you... the previous owners had installed traps and automated defenses all over the raft. Cad had his hands full with those for a month.
What kind of traps are we talking about?
Sounds really cozy, Gobbet. Like a floating deathtrap.
If I were in your shoes, I'd've taken the raft, too.
{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

The usual stuff. Explosives, pop turrets, that kind of thing. Cad and his sister Yasmin took care of most of it without too much trouble.
The biggest problems were the scuttling charges. The runners who built the raft had installed these explosives all along the perimeter that'd rip the bottom out of the thing if it were ever seized by the police. The explosives were tricky to deal with... Cad was able to disarm them, but he had to leave 'em where they were.

It was always just slightly uncomfortable, knowing that I was sleeping on top of a couple hundred pounds of dormant explosives.
Yeah, I can't blame you there.
{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

Hey, like I said, it was free. There weren't really even any rules to follow, which suited me fine.

Malvina was sort of the leader of our little nest, but we never really listened to her. She was always trying to play the mom card, instill a sense of responsibility into us. It was cute.

She did have a propensity for getting things done, though. I have to give her that.
Anyway, after a few months other people started showing up - squatters, homeless people, shadowrunners, and assorted crazies. As long as they stayed cool with us, we were cool to them.

Eventually, it became a community. Imagine that.
Think you wound up squatting on the $(story.Global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName) because of your time on the Sinking Ship?
Stranger things have happened.
I dunno. Maybe. Never really thought about it before, but... yeah, maybe.

{{GM}}A corner of her mouth curls upward.{{/GM}}

I guess that I'm a water rat now.
Yeah. Sure. I guess so.

{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}
That actually isn't too far off. There were explosives, pop turrets, all of that good stuff.

Cad and his sister Yasmin took care of most of it without too much trouble, though.
{{GM}}She nods once, decisively.{{/GM}}

Damn straight. And the traps weren't even that big a deal with Cad and his sister there to work on them.

They disarmed most of the really bad stuff, made the deck safe to lounge around on.
Not terribly, no. I mean, we have lodges, same as any other group of shamans... you can usually find a few of us hanging out in those.

I guess that there was just something special about our little group. Or maybe about the Sinking Ship. We liked it... we felt at home there.
...Didn't hurt that the Sinking Ship was well-stocked and provisioned when we, ah... "found" it, either.

And don't look at me like that. It was abandoned when we took it.
Abandoned?
Look, just because I follow an urban totem, that doesn't mean that I enjoy sleeping in the gutter.

The Sinking Ship might not have been my first choice of accommodation, but it had the virtues of being big and free. I like water more than I do paying rent.
Of course. Like I said, it's a long story.

So... was there something else that you wanted to talk about?
Oh yeah? Well, sure, then... ask away.
Yeah. Hey, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)... I'm sorry that this lesson wound up getting a little unfocused at the end.

I'm not really sure what came over me.
Happens to the best of us.
It's cool, don't worry about it.
Truth be told, I don't know how many more of these lessons I can take.
Well, I still feel bad about it. So look, I'll make you a deal... your next lesson will *definitely* be on point, and I'll tell you what it's about up front. No more question-and-answer sessions.

How does that sound?
Fine by me, Gobbet. Catch you next time.
{{GM}}She waves.{{/GM}}

Next time.
Yeah, well, about that. I have something else that I want to teach you about next time, so I'll make you a deal. Your next lesson will *definitely* be on point, and I'm gonna tell you what it's about right up front.

No more question-and-answer sessions. No more games. Sound like a deal?
Yeah. Later.
Hey. Welcome back.
Gobbet glances up at the sound of your approach.

A slight smile crosses her face.
Heyya, pal.

{{GM}}She puts her hands on her hips, sending Madness scurrying.{{/GM}}

Are you ready for your next lesson?
Absolutely. Hit me with it.
No offense, but your last lesson was kind of terrible.
In a bit. I wanted to ask you about something else first.
I was hoping that we were done with that.
Straight to business.

{{GM}}She nods appreciatively.{{/GM}}

I like that. Good.
Yeah, well, I never claimed to be Teacher of the Year. I make mistakes, same as anyone else does.

But if you're looking for a moral, I can promise you that this story has one. In fact, I'm gonna put it right up front where you can see it.
So. Do you want the lesson or not?

If you don't, just say so. I've got better things to do than try to teach you if you don't want to learn.
All right. I'm listening.
Maybe later, Gobbet. Let's talk about something else first.
Okay. This lesson is about people like Auntie Cheng, and why we need them.

There won't be a Q&A session after this story, but I want you to listen up. It's important.
Yeah?

{{GM}}She flips a tangled rope of hair back over her shoulder.{{/GM}}

Go ahead, then. If you need to ask, ask.
What did Malvina do with the Shiny Object?
And Tsui? What happened to him?
Thanks, Gobbet.
Right. Good.
This one is about people like Auntie Cheng, and why we need them.

There won't be a Q&A session after this story, but I want you to listen up. It's important.
I'm all ears.
Yeah, yeah, I get it. Go on.
All right, so here's the up-front lesson: Fixers are important. You can’t just go to a Johnson yourself and get a job.

I mean, you *can,* but you shouldn’t. It's a bad idea all around.
...You wanna tell me why?
Okay, go on.
If you can find your own work, why even bother with a Fixer? You're giving someone a cut of your profits for no reason.
Because Auntie Cheng, and people like her, serve a purpose. You get a job from her, and you can trust she’s vetted the client.

That’s important. It protects the whole team.
{{GM}}She takes in a breath. Lets it out slowly.{{/GM}}

...You, ah, you remember the lesson from last time? The one about Tsui and the Shiny Object?
Yeah.
How could I forget?
To be honest, I wasn't paying attention.
Well, after the run was over, we went back to the Sinking Ship for some R&R.

Tsui had told us that the client would be sending a boat to collect the Shiny Object in the morning. All that we had to do was keep the thing safe until the handoff.
We were in a celebratory mood. We'd killed an evil wizard and stolen a priceless artifact... a good night's work by anyone's standards.

Honu and Egret got good and drunk in record time. Tsui went back to his cabin with the Shiny Object to... I dunno, stare at it for a while, or something.

I retired to my cabin and crashed out. It'd been a long night.
I remember waking up to... sounds. Yelling, maybe? I was groggy, and they were far away - I couldn't quite make them out.

The clock said 4:30 a.m. People were always partying on the raft - playing loud music, shooting off fireworks, that kind of thing - so loud noises early in the morning weren't unusual. But something felt... off, somehow.
Off? How so?
I used to get that every now and again in the Barrens. I learned to listen to it.
That'd be your subconscious trying to warn you of something.
It's hard to describe. A queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, and an elevated heartbeat. Rapid, shallow breaths.

It was a lot like a panic attack, really. Not the kind of thing that you can sleep through.
So I got up to investigate. If something was wrong, I wanted to know, and if it wasn't, I figured that I might as well get in on the party.

I stepped out into the hallway, and my foot slipped. I came down hard, landed on my ass, and found myself sitting in a pool of blood.
That's not good.
{{GM}}She shakes her head, grimacing.{{/GM}}

No. No, it was pretty bad.
So it was pretty obvious by this point that something had gone horribly wrong.

My first thought was that the Shiny Object might have... I dunno, unleashed something. After what I saw it do in that warehouse, I wouldn't have been surprised.
I shook that off pretty quick, though. I knew what this was.

Our client was playing us. He'd hired us to steal the thing, and rather than paying us for the job, he'd sent another team to take it away.
Isn't that jumping to conclusions? I mean, it could've been anything.
Given what happened at the warehouse, I'd have assumed that the Shiny Object was to blame.
I got up and beelined for Malvina's cabin. She was the closest thing that the Sinking Ship had to a leader, and the strongest Rat shaman on the raft.
Why go to her? Why not head straight to Tsui's cabin?
If the raft was under attack, that's probably what I would've done, too.
{{GM}}She stares at you blankly.{{/GM}}

Because I'm not an idiot.
Sorry - that wasn't aimed at you. But think about it for a second... if there was a retrieval team coming for the Shiny Object, and they were strong enough to handle Tsui *while he was holding it,* what chance would I have of stopping them?

I figured that it was time to bring out the big guns. Malvina was the one whom I could get them from.
I, uh... I passed some pretty bad stuff on my way down to Malvina's cabin.

It was Old Man Xiuyan's vault all over again. The torn-up bodies, the blood-streaked floors. I saw people who'd been cut apart with machetes. Scorch marks on the container walls.
{{GM}}She bites her lip, grimacing at the unpleasant memories stewing in her head.{{/GM}}

Deep down in the pit of my gut, I could feel the thrumming vibration of the Shiny Object. That heartbeat feeling that I had in the warehouse - it was back, and stronger than ever.

Whatever that rock was, it was awake.
That'd be my cue to bail out. I wouldn't have wanted anything to do with that thing.
I kinda figured that hanging onto that thing was a bad idea.
Did you make it to Malvina's cabin?
I didn't, either. Believe me. But whatever was happening on board, it was killing people, and messily at that. I didn't want to risk getting cut down on my way to a life raft.

Besides, Tsui was my friend and the leader of my team. I thought that I had a chance to help him, so I took it.
Hey, I didn't like being close to the thing, either. But it was our payday for a job, and we didn't have a choice.

We *had* to hold it.
I sprinted down the last stretch of corridor to Malvina's cabin. I can't tell you what a relief it was to put my shoulder into the door, to feel it pop open, and to go tumbling into that room.

And then somebody smashed a gun into my face.
Yes.

I burst through the door, all ready to spread the news, and someone smashed a gun into my face.
It was Cadmus. My friend. He jammed the muzzle of his Super Warhawk into my cheek so hard it hurt, then grabbed me by the belt with his other hand. I wasn't going anywhere.

Just over his shoulder, I saw Malvina. She didn't look amused.
Some friends.
Note to self: if Heoi ever comes under attack, don't start knocking down my friends' doors.
Did they think that you were in on the attack, somehow?
Yeah, well. They were under a lot of stress at the time, and I *had* just crashed through their door like a charging rhinoceros.

{{GM}}She smiles weakly.{{/GM}}

Adrenalin and abject terror can make a girl do some stupid things, I'll tell you what.
{{GM}}The smile on her face dies. She looks away.{{/GM}}

Anyway, it wasn't an attack. There were no hostile invaders on the Sinking Ship, and our client had nothing to do with what was going on.
Turns out, there was no client. Tsui had lied to us... to me... because he wanted the Shiny Object for himself.

What he *wanted* to do was take the Sinking Ship away from Malvina. And so he used us to steal him something that he could use to foment a mutiny.
Yeah, that's a good note. Wish I'd had you there at the time to keep me from doing it.

{{GM}}She smiles weakly.{{/GM}}

Adrenalin and abject terror can make a girl do some stupid things, I'll tell you what.
Yeah. Only it wasn't an attack. Our client had nothing to do with it.

Turns out, there was no client. Tsui had lied to us. And by helping to stealing the Shiny Object, I'd unwittingly given him what he needed to foment a mutiny.
She pauses for a moment. Gathers her rats in her hands and lifts them to her shoulders.

They scurry over the leather of her coat and disappear into her hair.
...As it turns out, betrayal *hurts,* $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname).

Malvina felt it, and I felt it too. Tsui had been a friend. I'd just risked my life to save his, like, four hours ago. And he'd tricked me into helping him do something unthinkable.
Why do you think he did it? Why all of this over a heap of junk floating in a bay?
I'd have killed him for that.
I dunno. Maybe he'd gone toxic. Maybe he got ambitious and wanted to be the king of our little aquatic hill. He didn't discuss it with me first, or anything.

I'd be willing to bet that something had gone rotten in Tsui long before we ever met. He was pretty damned good at hiding it.
He could have been mentally ill.
Maybe it happened recently. He could have been possessed.
Maybe there wasn't a good reason. People do terrible things every day.
{{GM}}She holds up a hand.{{/GM}}

I don't know why he did it. Frankly, I don't care. The only thing that's important here is that he did.
Yeah. Yeah, they do.

At the end of the day, it doesn't matter why Tsui did what he did. All that matters is that he did it.
What could I do? I didn't have a whole lot of options, and Cadmus was kind of on edge. Like, red-faced and screaming.

So I opened my mouth, and I fast-talked my way out of it.
I started off by doubling down on my loyalty to Malvina, Cadmus, and the status quo on the Sinking Ship. Swearing my undying friendship, you know the drill. I did a good job of it, but they still looked a little iffy.

Iffy with a Warhawk is bad. So I volunteered to prove myself by stealing the Shiny Object back from Tsui.
That was brave of you.
That follows, I guess. I mean, he only had it because of you, right?
I know, right? Not my style at all. But then, I didn't really have a choice.

I'd inadvertently helped to arm the bastard who was tearing our friends and neighbors apart. I don't think I could've cleared my name without taking his weapon away again.
It was a hell of a night. I don't want to get into too many of the gory details.

Friends died. Hell, friends killed *each other.* It was brother against brother, all that jazz. And Tsui's indiscriminate use of the Shiny Object let a lot of things into this world that shouldn't have been.
Did you get a good view of them this time?
So did you wind up stealing the thing back from Tsui?
Yeah. I wish that I hadn't, but I did.

I don't really know how to describe the things. They were like animals, but wrong... too many tails, bones in the wrong places, huge open sores. That kind of thing.
They were spirits manifested in physical form, I think. Most of 'em took the form of rats, swarms of insects, rotting things... all of the old pestilence tropes. Sometimes there were colonies of things, all tangled together and moving as one.

Not the sort of thing that I want to see again... ever.
So anyway. Long story short, I got the Shiny Object back from Tsui.

It wasn't easy, but I got it.
Yes.

It wasn't easy, but I got it.
...And?
How'd you manage that?
You wanna elaborate on that?
And I took it back to Malvina. She put the thing to better use than Tsui ever did... she took to the thing like she'd grown up using it.

We still lost dozens of people, but Tsui's side lost more. Cadmus was critically wounded, but he pulled through.
Lies and misdirection. Trickery. Rat helped.

Some of the things that Tsui let loose actually came in handy. He'd summoned so many of them that he couldn't hope to control them all, and that gave me an opening to use them to my advantage.
I managed to trick my way past Tsui's supporters and the astral menagerie that he'd summoned. Wasn't easy, but I did it. Then I stole the Shiny Object, and all was right with the world.

...And yeah, I'm intentionally glossing over the details. I had to do some things that I'm not proud of, and people died because of it. But I got the damned thing, and I got it back to Malvina.
What happened then?
Long story short, Malvina put the Shiny Object to better use than Tsui ever did. She took to the thing like she'd grown up using it.

We still lost dozens of people, but Tsui's side lost more. Cadmus was critically wounded, but he pulled through.
After the skirmish, Malvina held an assembly. She told everybody that there'd be new rules for life on the raft.

Anyone who refused to follow them could leave. And if you broke them, you were done. The Rules of the Sea, and all that.
After the pronouncement, she turned on the surviving mutineers. Honu was one of 'em - he'd been in on Tsui's plan the whole time.

She didn't kill them, but she did exile them from the Sinking Ship. And for people in our economic bracket, that was as good as a one-way trip to the Walled City.

I'd be willing to bet that they're all dead by now.
In the wake of Malvina’s ultimatum, five survivors left the Sinking Ship.

I was one of them.
Why did you leave?
I wouldn't have hung around, either.
If I'd just fought to save my home, I wouldn't have picked up and left after the fact.
I had to go. We may have washed the blood off of the decks, but the energy of the Sinking Ship had changed. It wasn’t the carefree haven that I'd loved anymore.

And as sensible as Malvina’s rules were, I wasn’t up to living under them.
We parted on good, but sad, terms. And, as you'd expect, we drifted apart over the years.

It's funny... I hadn't even thought of Malvina or the Sinking Ship in years. Not until I decided to teach you your previous lesson, and it all came flooding back in.
She pauses. Turns to you.
That's the story. It's finished. But I wanna circle back on the lesson that I gave you up front, because it's important.

We need Auntie Cheng to bring us work... that's obvious. But we also need her to keep us honest. To be sure that we, on the team, are playing straight with one another.
Auntie Cheng’s reputation rides on the legitimacy of the jobs that she brings us. And that, more than anything, is why we need her.

If we didn’t have Auntie Cheng, or someone like her, we’d eventually tear ourselves apart. It happened on the Sinking Ship. It could happen again in Heoi.
So anyway. That's the lesson. If you've got follow-up questions, go ahead and ask 'em.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

You know how it is. We may have washed the blood off of the decks, but the energy of the Sinking Ship had changed... it wasn’t the carefree haven that I'd loved anymore. And as sensible as Malvina’s rules were, I wasn’t up to living under them.

I had to go.
Not really. I used lies and misdirection. Trickery.

Rat helped.
{{GM}}She pauses a moment, frowning.{{/GM}}

...Some of the things that Tsui let loose actually came in handy, funny enough. He'd summoned so many of them that he couldn't hope to control them all, and that gave me an opening to use them to my advantage. I was able to steer some of Tsui's followers into a pack of the damned things.

It worked. Wasn't pretty, though.
That was the idea, yeah. I mean, I didn't have a choice... I'd inadvertently helped to arm the bastard who was tearing our friends and neighbors apart.

I don't think I could've cleared my name without taking his weapon away again.
Yeah, well, we're getting to that. But I wanted to, believe me.
As it was, I did just about the only thing that I could think of to extricate myself from my predicament.

I fast-talked my way out of it.
I opened up by doubling down on my loyalty to Malvina, Cadmus, and the status quo on the Sinking Ship. Swearing my undying friendship, you know the drill. I did a good job of it, but they still looked a little iffy.

Iffy with a Warhawk is bad. So I volunteered to prove myself by stealing the Shiny Object back from Tsui.
Yeah, seemed like the right thing at the time. If there was a retrieval team coming for the Shiny Object, and they were strong enough to handle Tsui *while he was holding it,* what chance would I have of stopping them on my own?

I figured that it was time to bring out the big guns. Malvina was the one whom I could get them from.
Sure, I guess. But it was what made sense to me at the time. I mean, we were definitely under attack... that much was pretty clear.

I got up, brushed myself off, and beelined for Malvina's cabin. She was the closest thing that the Sinking Ship had to a leader, and the strongest Rat shaman on the raft.
Sure, I get that. It did some scary shit back in that warehouse. But it'd also been sitting dormant for a long time before Tsui and I stole it.

Anyway, I got up and brushed myself off, and then I beelined for Malvina's cabin. She was the closest thing that the Sinking Ship had to a leader, and the strongest Rat shaman on the raft.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

Yeah. It's a lot like a panic attack, really... that full-body certainty that something is *wrong.*
Ha. Funny.

I'm just gonna assume that you're joking. And also, that you're not very good at comedy.

So this is me doing that now.
After the Tsui-and-Shiny-Object-Run was over- the one that you "don't remember" - we went back to the Sinking Ship for some R&R.

Tsui had told us that the client would be sending a boat to collect the Shiny Object in the morning. All that we had to do was keep the thing safe until the handoff.
The reason why it's a bad idea to cut people like Auntie Cheng out is because you need someone to vet your clients.

That's important. It protects the whole team.
{{GM}}She shakes her head.{{/GM}}

No, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). Not for no reason. Auntie Cheng and people like her serve a purpose. You get a job from her, and you can trust that she's vetted the client.

That’s important. It protects the whole team.
Well, first she used it to get rid of the things that Tsui had let loose. Then she put it away for safekeeping.

It's probably still there on the Sinking Ship, ensconced in some shrine or other. Held under lock and key.
She should have tossed the thing into the bay.
At least she's keeping it safe.
Yeah, agreed. I didn't like it, either. But then, she'd already proven that she could handle the thing, and it did help her put down Tsui's mutiny.

Plus, she's a shaman. We deal with dangerous magic beyond mortal ken on a daily basis. It's not that weird for us.
Yeah, but still...
Hey, if you say so.
Remember that she'd just watched her home - the home that she was supposed to guide and protect - tear itself apart. She'd lost a lot of friends and failed in her duties as a leader, and I think that hit her pretty hard.

In the Shiny Object, she saw something that could help her keep that from ever happening again. Given the choice between tossing it and keeping it in her back pocket, well... you do the math.
Like I said, I'd have preferred it if she had ditched the thing. But in the end, it wasn't my choice to make.

From what little I've heard, she's still in power over there, so I guess that it worked out okay.
{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

I'd have preferred it if she'd ditched the thing. But in the end, that wasn't my choice to make.

From what I've heard, she's still in power over there, so I guess that it worked out okay.
That walking colostomy bag was already dead. Eaten by his own monsters after I took the Shiny Object away.

Turns out, he wasn't much good at controlling them without it.
{{GM}}Her voice fills with grim satisfaction.{{/GM}}

He didn’t even live long enough to watch his mutiny fail.
Sure. And $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)... thanks for listening.

These lessons are for your benefit, but I think that they help me, too. And it's nice to be taken seriously every now and again.
No problem, Gobbet. I'll look forward to the next one.
Who says that I take you seriously? I never copped to that.
{{GM}}Her face lights up.{{/GM}}

Yeah. Me, too.

Now get a move on. I've got Gobbet things to do.
{{GM}}She smirks at you.{{/GM}}

Yeah, yeah... say what you like, you keep coming back.

Now get a move on. I have Gobbet things to do.
No problem, come back anytime.
Not by a long shot. But if you aren't in a learning mood, we can shoot the breeze about something else.

{{GM}}She puts her hands on her hips, sending Madness scurrying.{{/GM}}

So. What did you want to talk about?
Hey again.
As you enter Gobbet's cabin, two things grab your attention.

The first is Gobbet herself. She looks exhausted, bleary-eyed. The easy smile that you've come to associate with her is nowhere to be seen.

The second is what she's doing. Gobbet appears to be in the middle of a valiant attempt to stuff a whole roasted duck into a saucepan half its size. The bird's rubbery neck flops from side to side with every heave of her shoulders.
{{GM}}She looks up from the saucepan, blinking. A corner of her mouth twitches upward, but the half-smile falls away almost immediately.{{/GM}}

Oh... oh, hey, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). Caught me at a bad time, I was just making dinner.
Yeah... it looks that way. Wouldn't that work better if you cut it into smaller pieces first?
Compressed duck. It looks delicious.
I've been watching the struggle. It looks like the duck is winning.
Huh?

{{GM}}She blinks down at the duck, and her mouth dips into a frown.{{/GM}}

Yeah. That'd probably be smarter, wouldn't it? I'm, uh... I'm not really thinking clearly today.
You feeling okay? You don't look well.
No lessons today, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). I'm not feeling up to it.
What's wrong? You don't look very good.
I... ugh.

{{GM}}She rubs the bridge of her nose with a pair of greasy fingers, leaving smudges of duck fat behind.{{/GM}}

It's weird. Ever since our last lesson, I've felt... I dunno. Preoccupied. With the Sinking Ship.
I don't really do the whole "haunted by the demons of my past" thing. I mean, that's fine for some people, but I'm allergic to drama. Generally, when thoughts of the past get me down, I remind myself that it doesn't matter, laugh it off, and go have a snack.

But this... I dunno, it's weird. Ever since our last lesson, I haven't been able to get the Sinking Ship out of my mind.
{{GM}}She looks down at the pot full of mangled duck on the counter. Closes her eyes.{{/GM}}

I guess I'm just worried about Cad and Mal. Which is weird, because why would I be? I mean, I haven't even spoken to them in years.

Hell, if anything, *they* should be worried about *me.* I'm the one who gets shot at for a living.
Maybe we should go check it out. The Sinking Ship isn't far, is it?
You ain't wrong there. So stop worrying about it already.
No, no. I don't wanna do that... at least, not without a good reason. It'd be awkward, and I'm sure that it's nothing anyway.

Actually, check that. I know what this is. It's my own personal version of the same thing that we're all feeling. The psychic sewage that's being dredged up in all of us by... whatever's happening in the Walled City.
{{GM}}She smacks her thigh, leaving a hand print of duck fat behind on her trousers.{{/GM}}

Tell you what... *that's* what we should be talking about right now. The damned Walled City.

*It's* what's really doing this to all of us.
But as luck would have it, we're hot on the trail of that Plastic-Faced guy, and he should have some answers for us. Answers about your dad, if nothing else.
You're changing the subject. Are you sure that you don't want to go check on the Sinking Ship?
Raymond isn't my dad.
Right at this moment, that's the last thing that I wanna do. Look, we've only got one thing left on our plate, right? We go get the Plastic-Faced guy. I mean, we've done everything else.

I don't want to throw us off by taking you on a scenic tour of a floating garbage heap. Screw that place. I was done with it years ago anyway.
My problem isn't with the Sinking Ship. It's with my dreams *of* the Sinking Ship. So *that's* what I need to deal with.

And, with your help, I will.
All right, Gobbet. We go do the extraction run, no distractions.
Oh, whatever. You know what I'm saying.

We go get the Plastic-Faced guy, and we deal with this head-on. No distractions. Okay?
I'm sure that you've had some flashes of memory from the Barrens in your bad dreams, right? Images from your past, come back to haunt you. But you aren't gonna drop everything and go running back there, because that would be dumb.

So tell me. Why should I?
Because the Sinking Ship is, like, fifteen minutes from here. It couldn't hurt to check.
You're right, you shouldn't. So quit making excuses and forget about it.
Look, I don't want to go back there if I don't have to. If *thinking* about the place is enough to mess with me like this, I don’t wanna know what *being* there will do.

But I'll tell you what. I’ll drop Malvina a line, just to check in. Make sure that this is a "me" problem and not a "them" problem. And if there *is* something going on, I promise, you'll be the first to know.
All right, Gobbet. If that's the way you wanna play it.
Good! Great! Can we stop talking about it now?
It is.

Now, uh, was there anything else that you wanted? Or can I get back to my duck?
Yeah! 'Course we can. So, uh... we'll do that then! Right now.

{{GM}}She stops talking. There's a long, awkward pause.{{/GM}}
...So, uh... was there anything else that you wanted? Or can I get back to my duck?
I'm not! And I will. I mean, why would I *want* to go back to that place? If *thinking* about that stupid raft is enough to mess with me like this, I don’t wanna know what *being* there will do.
I know what I'll do. I’ll drop Malvina a line, just to check in. Make sure that this is a "me" problem and not a "them" problem.

If there *is* something going on, you'll be the first to know, but there *won't* be, because this is just a stupid irrational fear that I'm having.
I've tried. It didn't work. I mean, I even considered going *back* there to check on them for a minute. How stupid is that?
{{GM}}She slaps her knee.{{/GM}}

Y'know what? I know what this is. It's my own personal version of the same thing that we're all feeling. The psychic sewage that's being dredged up in all of us by... whatever's happening in the Walled City.
Yeah, sure. And $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)... everything will be fine, you'll see.

If there *is* anything fishy happening on the Sinking Ship, you and Izz will be the first to know. I promise.
Yeah, sure. Later, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname).
Huh?

{{GM}}She blinks down at the duck, and her mouth dips into a frown.{{/GM}}

Oh. Yeah, I guess that it is getting a little squished, isn't it?
I could use a bigger pot, but I'd have to wash it first.

{{GM}}She glances down at the piles of dirty clothes and assorted detritus on the floor of her cabin.{{/GM}}

...And to do that, I'd have to find it. But I'm hungry now, and I've got this duck, so...

{{GM}}She gives the bird another heave. Something gives way with an audible crunch.{{/GM}}
Anyway. You, uh, want something? I'm up to my elbows in mallard.
Huh?

{{GM}}She blinks down at the duck, and her mouth dips into a frown.{{/GM}}

Oh. It isn't winning, it's just being stubborn. I'll make it fit, don't you worry.
She gives the bird another heave.

Something gives way with an audible crunch.
Hmm. This'd be easier with a bigger pot. I'd have to wash it first, though.

{{GM}}She glances down at the piles of dirty clothes and assorted detritus on the floor of her cabin, frowning.{{/GM}}

...And to do that, I'd have to find it.
Stepping into Gobbet's cabin, you find her crouching on the floor. She appears to be midway through a valiant struggle against an enormous pastry; her cheeks bulge out like a chipmunk's, and wispy threads of pork floss hang from her crumb-speckled lips.

She glances up at you, her eyes wide with alarm.
Mmmphgrrl.

{{GM}}Her jaw works to manage the enormous quantity of crispy dough in her mouth, but she doesn't seem to be making much headway.{{/GM}}

Nnghf.
Just concentrate on eating, Gobbet. We can talk when you're done.
Bitten off more than you can chew, huh?
Y'know, between the two of you, my money is on the pastry.
Mphmmgh!

{{GM}}She struggles to move her jaw, but her mouth is stuffed too full for her to make much headway. She gestures feebly toward a pitcher of water on the ground near your feet.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Hand her the pitcher.{{/GM}}
What will you give me for it?
You got yourself into this. I wanna see you get out of it. Think of it like a spectator sport.
She tilts back the pitcher and sucks down its contents. As the water pours into her mouth, she's slowly able to work through the food stored in her cheeks.

Finally, she lowers the water pitcher, coughing.
...Okay. Yeah. Note to self: the Pastry Terrace on Prince Edward Road makes 'em *dry.*

{{GM}}She takes another swig from the pitcher, grimacing.{{/GM}}

"Moist green apple and jellied trotter" my ass. That thing was like a desert made of pig.
Maybe you shouldn't have tried to cram the entire thing into your mouth at once.
That sounds kind of foul, Gobbet.
Meh. I'd eat it.
I was challenging myself! For science! And it wasn't the *whole* pastry, it was just half of one.

{{GM}}She lifts the remaining pastry for your inspection. The pork floss that coats its exterior looks almost festive; it's more reminiscent of a beige, curly tinsel than it is a food.{{/GM}}

You, uh... you want the rest?
Thanks, but no. I was hoping that we could talk.
Get that thing away from me.
Sure, I'll take it.
{{GM}}She drops the mangled pastry into a clean pot on the floor.{{/GM}}

Suit yourself. I'll have it later.
So, uh... exciting times, huh?

Is there something that I can do for you?
So, uh... you might have been wondering where I went off to. I kinda disappeared for a while.

You remember my story about that raft? The Sinking Ship? Well, I--
You went there. I know. Izz caught you on video.
It doesn't matter, Gobbet. What you do on your time is your own business. You don't have to report back to me.
Oh yeah?

Huh. I kinda thought that maybe you didn't know. And maybe that you were worried about me.

I mean, I was gone for a long time.
You're my wizened mentor, remember? If you'd needed my help, you would've asked for it.
You can handle yourself. Things were busy over here, too.
Yeah. Yeah, I would've.

I handled it just fine on my own. Everything went down perfectly A-OK. And by "everything," I mean the raft.

I, uh... I sank the raft. And everyone on it.
Huh. Did they deserve it?
That doesn't sound good.
Sure did! There was some really, really sketchy stuff going on there. I mean, like, *sketchy,* in the way that only a giant evil rat-woman can be.

You missed out on some stuff, is what I'm sayin'.
{{GM}}She rubs her hands briskly.{{/GM}}

Anyway! Was there something that you wanted to talk about?
No, it was the right thing to do. There was some really, really sketchy stuff going on there. I mean, like, *sketchy,* in the way that only a giant evil rat-woman can be.

You missed out on some stuff, is what I'm sayin'.
Yeah, well... you're right, I handled the situation. Everything went down perfectly A-OK. And by "everything," I mean the raft.

I, uh... I sank the raft. And everyone on it.
No. Of course not.

I just, uh... I guess that I just wanted to share the news with you. The Sinking Ship news. 'Cause that's where I went.

I was gone for a long time, huh? All by myself out there, just... just handling the situation on my lonesome.
So, uh... you probably want to talk about what happened on the raft, huh?

I think that in your place, I probably would. I mean, that was kind of a thing, right?
Still having bad dreams about the Sinking Ship?
Let's talk about what happened on the Sinking Ship.
So how are you adjusting to the gift that Rat... or the Shiny Object... or whatever has given you?
All right, Gobbet. We've finally gotten back on track. So... got another lesson for me?
{{GM}}She waves her hand, as if to brush off the question.{{/GM}}

Nope. Nah. Don't worry about it.

Everything's going just fine on the raft, I'm sure. And even if there were something going on out there, we've got bigger fish to fry.
...In this analogy, the Evil Curse of the Walled City is a fish.

I'm not sure how well that works, now that I think about it. But just roll with it, okay?
All right, Gobbet. You holding up okay?
Sorry. I can't just let that slide. The Walled City is a fish now?
I'm fantastic, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). You never need to worry about me.

...I really mean that, by the way. You've had my back this far. You should know that I've got yours.
Thanks, Gobbet. I mean that.
Glad to hear it. Thank you.
Good.

Now, was there something else that you wanted to talk about...?
You're welcome.

Now, was there something else that you wanted to talk about...?
It'd have to be a big one. Maybe a tuna.
Anyway, I wanted to tell you something. Just a little bit of encouragement, I guess... I can tell that we're headed for some heavy stuff, and I figured that you might need it. So here it is.

I know that you've had my back this far. I want you to know that I've got yours. And after everything we've been through together, I'm really glad to have you on the team.
Yeah.

{{GM}}She sighs.{{/GM}}

We can do that.
First off, I should thank you. You and Izz came to help me, even though I didn't ask you to. Or want you to.

Actually, maybe I should be upset about that. But the important thing is that you *did* help me. I'm not gonna say that I couldn't have handled it without you, but it would've been really, *really* dicey.
You can say that again. The situation on that raft was pretty bad.
I don't think that you could've done much, Gobbet. Not after seeing what Malvina had turned the lower level into.
You would've been fine. Me and Izz, we just made it a little bit easier for you.
{{GM}}She nods grimly.{{/GM}}

Yeah. It was definitely that.
On the bright side, we sent that fucker to the bottom of the bay. The whole Sinking Ship, and Malvina and her Shiny Object along with it. We even got Cadmus and his people off first.

I probably wouldn't have managed that on my own. They'd've all gone down with the ship.
You don't know that for sure. You might've rescued some of them.
That's probably true. You seemed pretty determined.
{{GM}}She shakes her head.{{/GM}}

Nope. I'd already decided not to. Before you and Izz showed up, I'd pretty much made up my mind to scuttle the raft and send everyone on it to a watery grave. Probably wouldn't even have felt bad about it afterward.

I mean, who would've been around to tell me I was wrong? Nobody, that's who - 'cause they'd be dead.
Kinda makes me think. How many times before now have I done what seemed like the "right" thing - y'know, followed my gut, like I taught you - without realizing that there was a better option?
...This whole "introspection" thing kinda sucks, I've gotta say.

{{GM}}She looks up at you, scowling.{{/GM}}

It's much more comforting to just assume that all of my past decisions were right.
Sure it is. It's intellectually dishonest, but it's definitely comforting.
{{GM}}She bites her lower lip.{{/GM}}

...Yeah.

Y'know, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname), you aren't helping my mood any. I'm kind of having a tough time over here.
She begins to pace, kicking piles of dirty clothes and blankets out of the way. Thrusting her hands into her pockets, she fishes out Madness and Folly and tosses them down onto her cot.
I don't do this very often. Reflecting is for mirrors, not devastatingly attractive street shamans.

I don't know how you handwringers deal with feeling this way.
By "handwringers," do you mean "people who learn from their mistakes"?
It's pretty simple. We acknowledge our mistakes and our near-misses, and we own up to them.
Watch who you're calling a handwringer. *You're* the one who's torn up about this, not me.
I guess. Maybe. I don't know.

Like I said, I don't really do this kind of thing. So tell me what to do next. What comes after this?
Okay. I've pretty much got that step covered.

What's next? What comes after this?
After you've suffered through your embarrassment for a while, you try to learn something from it.
Am I teaching you a lesson now, Gobbet? Is there some role-reversal going on here?
...Huh.

Your way is boring, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). And it's *complicated.* And it comes with *way* too many bad feelings.
{{GM}}She scowls.{{/GM}}

...But yeah, I get it. There's probably even some value there.

I'm never going to start second-guessing everything that I do, though. That just isn't me.
Maybe you could start second-guessing *some* things, when new information presents itself?
Good, because that would be dumb. Don't question yourself before circumstances give you a reason to.
What a novel concept.

Yes, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname), I can do that. And I will from now on.

Cross my heart.
Anyway. Things turned out the way that they did. I don't know what might have happened if we'd tried to do something different, but there's one thing that I *can* say for certain.

Things are better in Hung Hom Bay than they were before we went to the Sinking Ship. We did some good out there.

That's something.
Yeah. It is.
I didn't go out there to save Hung Hom Bay. I did it to help you.
Oh! Actually, there are *two* things that I can say for certain. I think that Rat is happy that the Shiny Object is gone.

{{GM}}She fishes in her pocket for a few seconds, then produces a chunk of stone the size of a marble. It appears to be made of the same marbled red jade that the Shiny Object was.{{/GM}}

Check it out - she gave me a present.
Where did that come from?
Do you know what it does?
Gobbet... are you sure that came from Rat?
From Rat, like I said. She *literally* gave it to me. Put it right in the palm of my hand.

I had a vision. It had colorful lights, dancing rodents, the works. And when the world came back into focus, I was holding this magic marble.

{{GM}}She tosses the stone into the air and catches it with her other hand.{{/GM}}

Neat, huh?
Beats the hell out of me. I mean, I'm sure that it does *something*... it has to, right? Rat wouldn't just give me a normal rock.

She's a trickster, and all, but that'd be mean.
So you mark my words, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname): the next time we're in the field, something magical is going to happen. I mean, *literally* magical. Possibly with explosions, it's too early to tell.

{{GM}}She nods sagely.{{/GM}}

It'll be a journey of discovery for both of us.
I'll be looking forward to that.
Me, too. And, uh... thank you, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname).

I really, really mean that. You can fly by my side any time.
'Course I am! I had a vision. It had colorful lights, dancing rodents, the works. And when the world came back into focus, this magic marble was in the palm of my hand.

{{GM}}She tosses the stone into the air and catches it with her other hand.{{/GM}}

Neat, huh?
Now, I don't know quite how it works yet, but I'm sure that it does something. I mean, it has to, right? Rat wouldn't just give me a normal rock - she's a trickster, and all, but that'd be mean.

So mark my words: the next time we're in the field, something magical is going to happen. I mean, *literally* magical. It'll be a journey of discovery for both of us.
Mission accomplished, then. And come to think of it, there are *two* things that I can say for certain.

You wanna hear the second?
Lay it on me.
I think that Rat is happy that the Shiny Object is gone.

{{GM}}She pauses for a moment, considering.{{/GM}}

...That, or maybe that stupid egg did something to me. I don't know for certain. Either way, something is... different. I can feel it in my gut.
Right. That makes sense, I guess.

All right, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname), I'll give it a shot. Who knows? Maybe there's some value in hand-wringing after all. I guess we'll have to see.
{{GM}}The corner of her mouth tilts downward.{{/GM}}

Yes, O Wise One. You're teaching me. Now quit being smug about it and give me an answer.
I don't know, Gobbet. Try to learn from your mistake. Be a grown-up. It isn't that hard.
Yeah, yeah. But I usually wouldn't be! And I'm *glad* that I wouldn't, because this feels kinda bad.

Look, it's like I said... I don't really do this kind of thing. So tell me what to do next. What comes after this?
Yeah. Before you and Izz showed up, I'd pretty much made up my mind to scuttle the raft and send everyone on it to a watery grave. Probably wouldn't even have felt bad about it afterward.

I mean, who would've been around to tell me I was wrong? Nobody, that's who - 'cause they'd be dead.
On the bright side, we sent that fucker to the bottom of the bay. The whole Sinking Ship, and Malvina and her Shiny Object along with it.

We, uh... we were the only ones who made it off the boat, though. Everyone else died. Even the good ones.
Wasn't that your plan from the beginning, though?
They're better off dead than they were trapped on that raft.
That isn't our fault. We did what we had to do.
Yeah. But then we did a bunch of additional legwork, and we found some good people on the boat.

Cad... well, he was dying anyway. But there were at least a few others whom we maybe *could* have saved. And we didn't.

That's gonna gnaw at me, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). No lie.
I dunno. Maybe they are. But it feels like maybe we could've done more than we did.

Cad... well, he was dying anyway. But there might have been a few others whom we *could* have saved. And we didn't.

That's gonna gnaw at me, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). No lie.
Maybe. It feels like we could've tried to do more, though.

Cad... well, he was dying anyway. But maybe there were others whom we *could* have saved. They're all gone now, though.

That's gonna gnaw at me, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). No lie.
On the bright side, we overthrew Malvina and put the raft back in Cad's hands. That feels pretty great. And the Shiny Object is at the bottom of Hung Hom Bay, lodged in a bank of silt and crab shit.

That's pretty much where it belongs.
But I've gotta admit, something is gnawing at me.

Before you and Izz showed up, I was gonna sink the raft. I'd gotten halfway through arming the charges, and I was gonna send the whole Sinking Ship down in flames.

Everyone on it would have died. Cad, and Yasmin... all of them. All because I made up my mind early, and didn't want to change it.
On the bright side, Malvina's dead. And the Shiny Object is at the bottom of Hung Hom Bay, lodged in a bank of silt and crab shit. That's pretty much where it belongs.

But Cad's gone, and so is everybody else. And I think we might be a tiny bit at fault for that.
We don't know that for sure.
That isn't on us, they were on death's door anyway. At least we took out the Rat King for them, right?
I think we kinda do. I mean, we didn't exactly bend over backward to help Cad with his mutiny, did we? And I think that he kind of needed us to.

{{GM}}She stares at the floor.{{/GM}}

I, uh... I feel really bad about how this all turned out.
Yeah, I guess. But, I mean, none of them made it out... not anyone.

{{GM}}She stares at the floor.{{/GM}}

I, uh... I feel really bad about how this all turned out.
I don't wanna argue about it. Let's just say that it's a good thing you were there.

{{GM}}She shuffles her feet, stirring a pile of dirty blankets on the floor.{{/GM}}

What we walked into on that raft... well, it was pretty terrible. More so than I could've imagined.
{{GM}}She manages a half smile.{{/GM}}

Yeah. Sure you did.

Thanks.
{{GM}}Her expression brightens.{{/GM}}

It's good! I mean... probably not, like, *morally* good, but I think that I can use it.
What *is* it? What does it do?
Well, it's kind of like a grenade... when I throw it, it goes boom. Not out here in the real world, but in the astral plane, it's pretty impressive.

As for what it actually does: it scares the shit out of anyone who gets caught in the blast. Makes 'em act like idiots. They run around with their hands in the air, or forget about who's shooting at 'em and stand around with their fingers in their ears. Handy, huh?
Sure, I guess.
Yeah, it sounds great. I'm just a little iffy about how you got this, and why.
So, uh... here's the thing. When I use this thing, what I *think* I'm doing is opening a bunch of temporary cracks in the astral plane. Just little ones, only wide enough for sounds to pass through. People in the blast radius can hear things on the other side.

So let's say that I throw this sucker at someone, and it goes off. Boom! All of a sudden, that poor slob can hear the things that got into Malvina shrieking in his brain.
That doesn't sound like a very good idea.
Sounds upleasant.
No, hear me out - it's pretty great, actually! The cracks are only temporary; they snap shut after a few seconds, so nothing bad can get through. There's no chance of the Rat King coming back. And as for the people who get caught in the blast... man, what happens to them isn't pretty.

All of those voices at once, yelling and babbling and cursing, doing their Rat King thing. It'd drive you nuts, right? And that's basically what it does. It's like temporary insanity in pebble form!
If you say so. I'd be wary of using anything that might be connected to the Shiny Object.
As long as you're comfortable using this thing, I'm all for it. How many did Rat give you?
{{GM}}She shakes her head.{{/GM}}

Again, Rat gave it to me. I think that I'll be okay.
Now, here's the best part: after I use one of these and go to bed, I find another one in my hand the next morning.

I've tried it a couple of times now, and it keeps happening. Toss, explode, nap, visions of dancing rats, and... ta daa! New magic pebble!
Using this feels right in a way that the Shiny Object never did. I think that it's Rat's reward to me for taking Malvina down, or something. I dunno, exactly... I've never heard of this happening to anyone before.

Anyway. It should help us moving forward... and considering what we're headed up against next, I think that we can use all the help that we can get.
That's the best part! After I use one of these and go to bed, I find another one in my hand the next morning.

I've tried it a couple of times now, and it keeps happening. Toss, explode, nap, visions of dancing rats, and... ta-daa! New magic pebble!
Yeah, it's a bad time for them. All of those voices at once, yelling and babbling and cursing, doing their Rat King thing. It'd drive you nuts, right?

That's basically what it does - drives people mad, makes them work against their own self-interest. It's like temporary insanity in pebble form!
Don't be. It came from Rat - I'm pretty sure of that. The dancing rodents in my vision were a pretty good indicator.

{{GM}}She lets the stone roll in the palm of her hand, smiling. Its polished exterior glitters as it moves.{{/GM}}
No, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). No more lessons. You don't need 'em. You're as much a runner as I am now.

There might even be a thing or two that I can learn from you.
All of that can wait, though. We've got this whole situation with the Walled City, and your foster dad, and Gun Show, and all that to take care of.

It's kind of a mouthful. Lots of players involved, tons of intrigue. Honestly, I'm enthralled by the whole thing... can't wait to see how it turns out.
Me either, Gobbet. Guess we'll just see how this plays out together.
I'm glad to see that you're keeping a positive attitude about it. Me, I just want it to be over.
{{GM}}She nods sagely.{{/GM}}

You're damn right we will.

Oh, and $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)...?
The pot on the hot plate. It's always full. I keep a soup going on that thing twenty-four-seven.

If you ever want any, you're welcome. Just come on in. I'd love the company.
You got it, Gobbet. I'll be here with bells on.
No offense, but you can keep the soup. I'll take the company, though.
I'm gonna make you regret that offer. I can eat a lot of soup.
Leave 'em off. The jingling might scare Folly. There was this terrible incident at a Christmas pageant once, and, well...

{{GM}}She gives you a sly smile.{{/GM}}

...She bites.
...And now, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname), if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna crash out for the night. Maybe sleep through tomorrow and get up when the sun goes down. That sounds nice right about now.
Yeah, tell me about it.
Sleep is for the weak. I'm gonna stay up drinking instead.
I swear, all that you do is eat and sleep. It's unhealthy.
{{GM}}Still smiling, she waves you off with the back of her hand.{{/GM}}

Scurry along now. Your former mentor needs her rest.
Hey, your loss. My soup is magnificent. Worthy of song.

But it's fine. You can stick with your soynugs, or your synth-pig, or whatever it is you kids eat nowadays.
Gobbet... I'm older than you. You're, like, nineteen.
Synth-pig is delicious. Don't knock it until you've tried it.
Something like that.

{{GM}}She gives you a sly smile.{{/GM}}

Now scurry along. Your former mentor needs her rest.
Me? Never.

{{GM}}She gives you a sly smile.{{/GM}}

Now scurry along... your former mentor needs her rest.
Yeah? Can't wait to see you prove it.

{{GM}}She does her best to stifle a yawn.{{/GM}}

...Maybe later, though. It's getting late, and I could use some shut-eye.
I swear, you sleep almost as much as you eat. It isn't healthy.
You're choosing sleep over soup? Who are you, and what did you do with Gobbet?
Ha haa.

{{GM}}Smiling slyly, she waves you off with the back of her hand.{{/GM}}

Scurry along now. Your former mentor needs her rest.
{{GM}}She smirks at you.l{{/GM}}

And miss out on all of this fun? Never.

Oh, and $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)...?
{{GM}}She blinks in surprise.{{/GM}}

Really? Sure, then... it's all yours. Here, catch.

{{GM}}She tosses the remaining pastry to you. It sails through the air, glistening suggestively in the dim cabin light.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Catch it.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Let it fall.{{/GM}}
You snatch the flying pork-brick out of the air.

It's surprisingly dense, with a heft roughly equivalent to that of a softball.
{{GM}}Eat it.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Toss it back.{{/GM}} I've changed my mind, you can keep it.
You raise the pastry to your lips and take a bite. Seconds later, you can feel all of the moisture in your mouth evaporate.

Gobbet wasn't lying - this thing is *dry.* The flavor is surprisingly palatable, though.
{{GM}}She blinks at you in astonishment.{{/GM}}

Huh. I can't believe you ate that.

I'm impressed.
If I ever get another of those again, I'm gonna let it sit in a bowl of condensed milk for at least a half an hour before I try putting it in my mouth. That might help... I dunno, reconstitute it, I guess?

I dunno. It might work.
Anyway. You, uh... you probably want to talk about what happened on the raft, huh?

I think that in your place, I would.
Gobbet bats the flying pastry out of the air. It falls into a clean pot on the ground near her feet, ringing the metal like a bell.
{{GM}}She stares down at the mashed lump of dough, her eyebrows raised.{{/GM}}

Well, that was lucky. Guess I'm eating it later.
So, uh... you probably want to talk about what happened on the raft, huh?

If I were in your place, I think that I probably would.
You make no move to catch the flying pastry. It lands somewhere out in the hall.
Hey... that was kind of a dickish thing to do. I might still have eaten that.

{{GM}}She frowns.{{/GM}}

I mean, probably not, but there was a chance.
Be happy, then. I just saved you from yourself.
Be honest with yourself. You weren't going to eat it, you were going to let it sit in a corner and rot.
Yeah, maybe.

So, uh... you probably want to talk about what happened on the raft, huh? I think that in your place, I would.
Don't knock it until you've tried it, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). It makes you sound ignorant.

{{GM}}She stabs a thumb into her chest.{{/GM}}

Now, me, I *have* tried it, and I can tell you that it's *disgusting.* But that opinion carries authority, because it comes from *experience.*
So anyway. You, uh... you want the rest?

{{GM}}She lifts the remaining pastry for your inspection. The forest of pork floss that tops the roll flutters suggestively.{{/GM}}
Hey, if you want it, it's all yours. Drink lots of water, though.

{{GM}}She tosses the remaining pastry to you. As it sails through the air, the pork floss that clings to its outer layer flutters suggestively.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Her eyes narrow. With her cheeks overstuffed as they are, the effect is less threatening than it is comical.{{/GM}}

Mmgh-pffgnnm!

{{GM}}She raises her hands, fingers splayed, and holds them at shoulder height. A typical spellcasting posture.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Hand her the pitcher.{{/GM}} Oh, all right. Here, drink your water.
If you make a poison cloud in here, you'll die, too. Just sayin'.
You look less like a shaman than you do a stage magician with an eating disorder.
Scowling through cheeks wadded with pastry, she rises from her perch and stalks over to you.

She snatches the pitcher off of the ground, lifts it to her mouth, and tilts it back.
As the water pours into her mouth, she's slowly able to work through the food stored in her cheeks.

Finally, she lowers the water pitcher, coughing.
Hey again. Did you need something?
It's been a long day, and you're still in my room. Why are you still in my room?

{{GM}}She waves you off.{{/GM}}

Go away, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). We can talk more later if you want, but right now you're cutting into my beauty rest.
Look, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)... we've had a lovely chat, and all, but I'd really like some "me" time.

Come back later if you want, but for now, give me some space.
Hey, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)... I kinda want to be alone right now. Personal space, and all that.

We can talk later if you want, but for now, kindly get out of my cabin? Too much socializing makes me grumpy.
No time to talk now. Remember what I said about having Gobbet things to do? Yeah, that still applies.

{{GM}}She waves you away.{{/GM}}

G'bye. We can hang out tomorrow, or something.
Hey, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)... I'm not really in the mood to hang out right now. Heavy stuff going down, y'know?

It'll be fine, but for the time being, I'd rather be alone. We'll talk later, though.
Ugh. Don't remind me. That place is every bit as foul and screwed up as I remember it.

{{GM}}Gobbet shudders, wrapping her arms tightly across her body.{{/GM}}

If you ever want to drag me back there, you'd better have a damn good reason for it.
{{GM}}After a moment, Gobbet gets a mischevious twinkle in her eye and she draws herself up straight.{{/GM}}

I can't believe you set a ghost loose on Bao's men. Or that Kindly didn't believe me when I told her about it! Tsk.

See if I help her out, if a ghost ever comes for her.
I don't care about the Yellow Lotus, but having killed them... Kindly's not likely to forget that. Ever. I know she said she counted on you to mess the job up, but be careful.

You go against her orders on a more important job, she might put all of us in an early grave.
I have to say, I'm impressed with how you handled the run. None of the Yellow Lotus soldiers died, and Kindly's not the kind of person to forget little details like that.

Getting on her bad side is a great way to get a fast ride into an early grave, so it's good you stepped lightly on this one.
I don't get the Whampoans, I really don't. Is0bel is about as close as I usually get to their particular flavor of crazy. You'd think with all that technology and backup, they'd have been smart enough not to stiff a Red Samurai on payment, much less a ghoul.

I dunno, for 'smart' people, they seem pretty damn dumb to me.
I'm not sure about inviting that ghoul into our boat, but I can't say I'm gonna lose any sleep over the Elders dying. We live and die by our reputation, out here.

Anybody dumb enough to pull a stunt like that on a a ghoul, they might be dumb enough to have tried it on us. I just hope we made the right decision.
It's too bad for that ghoul, but come on... Ghouls are cannibals. Whatever sob story he might have had, a job's a job. We're in enough trouble without carting a obvious monster around with us.

Maybe the Whampoans lied, maybe not. All I know is that they're people you definitely want on your side.
I haven't been on many jobs that have gone as sideways as that one. The ghoul died, and so did the elders. And we're left with what? A bunch of terrified deckers who're gonna pay Kindly protection money just so we don't ever come back?

Yeah... That's kind of incredibly embarassing.
I think we pulled off a damn miracle back there. Not only did we get a creepy-ass close combat expert on our side, we exposed the Elders and got ourselves a nice bonus for being smart.

Not a lot of jobs go that right. I'm feeling better and better about having you in charge, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname).
{{GM}}Gobbet positively vibrates with excitement, clapping her hands together with a huge grin.{{/GM}}

That. Was. AWESOME.

Think about it: we broke into some rich jerk's manor house, stole his artifacts so they could go to a museum, and we fought *mummies*! If that's not the plot of a trid blockbuster, I don't know what is.
I'm not sure what I think about that mummy's trinket. I've never had a dead person owe me a favor before... I'm not even sure how that works. Be careful when you use that trinket.

As long as he does what we tell him to, that's pretty awesome. But if the trid's taught me anything, it's that mummies are always waiting for an excuse to run around cursing everybody.
I think 'never trust a mummy' is probably one of life's unwritten rules. Have you ever seen a trid or sim where the mummy was a good guy? *I* haven't.

An awesome sword is probably a better bet in the long run than a favor from a dead guy. What if he started running around cursing everybody when we let him out? You made the right choice.
Man, if every job we get could be about going to fancy parties and stealing their food and booze, I'd be a happy camper.

I don't understand why those trid types get in their weird rivalries, but I sure as hell won't turn down money to help them blackmail each other.
I have to wonder: do you have a soft spot for vampires or something? I mean, it's awfully nice of you to let Ku Feng live, but don't you think it's dangerous to let her hang around in public? Sure, we got Wong fired from the show, but even so...

Ku Feng seemed pretty new to the whole vampire thing, though. I'm betting she'll piss the wrong person off and end up with a stake in her chest sooner or later.
I think Ma's pretty well done. I mean, you scared Ku Feng off and got her to convince Ma to fire Penelope Wong. Win win, right? It's not like I think the vampire's gonna come back for revenge any time soon.

An accountant vampire. Psh. What a waste of space.
It's too bad that we couldn't get Wong fired, but I'm willing to bet that Ma stands to lose a lot of face if any word of the vampire gets out. Since she's out of his life now, he won't have much ammunition to fight back with.

Whatever - we get paid, and that's what matters!
(Vampires *kill* their victims. I can subsist on corpses, but Ku Feng requires the living: to have left her in public would have condemned many more to die.

In hiding, she may run afoul of a greater predator, at least.)
I wish we could have gotten Wong fired. But I guess killing a vampire is probably a better plan - they're dangerous as hell, and doubly so when paired with a rich guy with a lot of connections.

With her out of Ma's life, he's gonna have a hard time directly defending himself against whatever Shenyang has planned.
Listen, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)... I'm all for making allies where we can, but do you really think making somebody *better* at being a vampire is a good plan? I know she said she owes us, but come on. I don't know how trustworthy a leech is.

I like that we got paid, but I can't help feeling we've created a monster that's gonna come back to haunt us later.
I've never had a chance to go to Shangri-La before. Too ritzy for a little street rat like me. And you know what? I'm kind of okay with that. All those stuffed shirts and fancy food are nice, but give me a cheap corner stall any day.

I *did* pocket some of their silverware, though. And a teapot.
I guess we probably should have killed the Talon, but getting out of there alive with Lo was the top priority. I don't need to pick a fight with a giant meat-mountain in order to feel better about myself.

When in doubt, take the back exit. Walking away from a run is always a better plan than, y'know...being dead.
The Talon was a real piece of work. Glad to see that guy put in the ground. He made my skin crawl, like he was the kind of guy who'd torture animals for fun. Even the 289s seemed a little scared of him.

I doubt anybody's gonna shed tears over him for too long.
I think that went pretty well. There aren't a lot of runners who can say they went up against Ares and came out ahead. Sure, maybe the job could have gone a little smoother, but how were we supposed to account for another runner team showing up?

Adaptability, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname) - that's what makes a good runner. Always go with your instincts.
I think you made the right call, giving those guys the laser. I mean, sure, who doesn't like lasers... But would another gun really make that much of a difference for us? That team sounded like the kind of people who won't forget a debt.

Sometimes, that's the difference between living and dying - who you can call in a pinch.
I feel bad we didn't give those runners the laser. I mean, at the time, I was like 'Oh hell, no! I want an awesome laser!' But now I'm not so sure. They seemed like decent people, and maybe they could have helped us out later.

Still, though - we have got a *sweet* laser out of the deal. Pew pew!
It always surprises me how much corporations will pay to screw up a competitor's feng shui. Hell, they'll even take each other to court over architecture that blocks qi. It has real impact, though. A little shift here and there might not seem like much, but even fractions of a penny lost on their stock value is millions.

{{GM}}Gobbet shrugs, pursing her lips.{{/GM}}
I could *see* us change the flow of qi in that building, but I still have no idea how to make it work for me. You need a real specialist for that, like a Taoist priest or something.

Based on what I could see, though, I think Wuxing's fortunes will wane at least for the time being. They'll fix what we broke - eventually - but until then, there may be a rash of stubbed toes.
I guess all that history with his old unit was really eating at Nibbles, huh?

{{GM}}Gobbet folds her arms, glancing off into the distance.{{/GM}}

I wasn't too happy with him being here when you first invited him to join the team, you know. But I was wrong. He's a solid asset - maybe not the most talkative, but a good guy to have in your corner.
But turning Ishida into a ghoul like that, just to make a point?

{{GM}}Gobbet shudders.{{/GM}}

That's some cold revenge, right there. It's over the line. I'm glad he's finally free of them, but I wouldn't wish that kind of fate on anybody.
I'm glad he killed Ishida, and didn't turn him into a ghoul. That would've been a colder fate than anybody deserves.

{{GM}}Gobbet shudders.{{/GM}}

With Ishida dead, he's finally free. Maybe now he'll learn to lighten up a little... Or at least crack a smile now and again.
{{GM}}Gobbet's expression darkens, and she flips some ropes of hair back over one shoulder.{{/GM}}

You know, everybody says it's bad form to back out on a job. What about if the Johnson decides to lie and screw you over? Everybody seems to accept that as standard procedure. Drives me up the damn wall, every time.
But I guess it's better to play it safe, count on your rep, and get the job done. I know why you made the call you did. I just wish I could've put a few rounds into Tigath as he was smugly sauntering off.

{{GM}}She shakes her head, frowning.{{/GM}}

It just doesn't seem right, letting him get away with playing us like that.
I'm glad we gave Hwang get the data rather than Tigath. He may be a psychopath in charge of a gang of murderous goblins, but he told us the truth, at least.

{{GM}}Gobbet shrugs.{{/GM}}

Frankly, it's not my problem any more. I got paid, and I'm done with it.
Deciding to gun them both down wasn't a move I expected. Seems to have worked out, though - we sent a message not to mess with us, and also we're not the kind of people to take kindly to threats.

{{GM}}She flexes, as if to show you how big her arms are.{{/GM}}

Don't mess with us, or we'll put you down. Boom! I like it.
Yeah... 'course I do. I mean, it was kind of a big deal, y'know?
We've already said pretty much everything there is to be said, though, haven't we?

I mean, it's not like we didn't go over this already, with the Important Lessons About Responsibility and all that.
Is0bel and her stupid rivalry with Rhombus. I can't believe she actually still cared about all that bullshit between them. Honestly, I think maybe she had a crush on him or something - why else would they act like that?

I mean, I *guess* getting your memories back is a good idea, but it would have been better not to lock them up in the first place.
Yeah, maybe Rhombus was a jerk with how he gave advice. But she killed his cat, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). Would you let that fly? Because I sure as hell wouldn't.

Whatever. I just hope it was worth the hassle.
I think we're closing in on the end here, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). With the data we got from the Plastic Faced Man, Josephine's number is just about up.

{{GM}}She grins, patting you gently on the arm.{{/GM}}

Just think, you'll be able to get your dad back. That's gotta be worth something, right?
Killing the Plastic Faced Man was probably the smarter course of action. I mean, I don't really have a personal stake in the matter, but 'not pissing off Kindly' is usually a checkbox I like to hit on every run. Letting him live would have been an unforgivable slight.

As it stands now, everybody wins. Nice.
Just don't ever let Kindly Cheng find out you let him live. A screwup with Strangler Bao, okay - she expected that. You piss her off on this one, she's liable to cut ties with you. Permanently, if you get my meaning.

Me, I don't care one way or another about the Plastic Faced Man. But I *do* care about you.
You didn't bring me on our last run. So no, I don't have much to say.

{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

Nice to have a night off, I guess.
So. What else did you want to chat about?
She told me that you led her out of the Walled City when you were kids. Care to fill in the details on that?
What about the other people who stayed behind? That other shaman that you knew?
What about Is0bel's family? She said that they were still in the Walled City... why didn't you bring them with you?
That's all. Can we talk about something else?
Yeah? I guess I'm not surprised... Izz has never been big on padding a story with unnecessary detail.
Wanna tell your side of the story? Seems that I've got a vested interest in the Walled City these days.
Yeah, sure... why not? I'll share.

{{GM}}She taps her chin thoughtfully.{{/GM}}

To start, I guess that you're gonna need to know what the Walled City was like when me and Izz were kids. She didn't tell you anything about that, did she?
No. She didn't say much, other than that you'd saved her.
She wasn't big on volunteering unnecessary information.
She dropped some hints, but I'd like to hear your take on the place.
Didn't think so.

{{GM}}She reaches down. Absentmindedly strokes Madness's silky coat. The rat chirps happily at her caress.{{/GM}}
Well. For starters, you should probably know that the Walled City wasn't always as bad as it is now.

It was always dangerous, but ten years ago it was just a run-of-the-mill slum. Still safe enough that walking in didn't qualify as a suicide attempt.
Keep going.
I was in the Walled City earlier. I wasn't impressed.
I'd figured that what I saw in there had to be the bottom of a downward spiral.
Back then, I used to play in the Walled City. Rat would lead me into all of the nooks and crannies that grown-ups were too big to fit through. There was this other young shaman in there that I used to play with... his name was Happy, or Lucky, something like that.

He followed Pig. Nice guy. Good card player.
Obviously, none of this was a good idea. A teenage girl going into the Walled City by herself? That's a recipe for disaster.

I didn't realize any of this at the time, though. I loved playing in the alleys and crawl spaces of the Walled City. It was fun.
Is that how you met Is0bel? By exploring the Walled City as a kid?
Where were your parents while you were doing all of this?
I did stuff like that myself in the Barrens. When you're a street kid, you make your own fun.
Yep. Inside the Wall, there are these districts... you were in one earlier when Cheng sent you after Strangler Bao. The Lotus Den.
I didn't realize that the whole Walled City was divided up that way.
How many districts are there?
Well, Is0bel and her family lived in the Mansion District. It's a sort of a holding pen for refugees from the Middle East and Africa. Basically anyone who isn't Asian, European, or goblinoid.

It's less pleasant than it sounds.
Why was it called the Mansion District?
No goblinoids? There weren't any orks or trolls in Is0bel's district?
The locals named it after Chungking Mansions, out in Tsim Sha Tsui. Sort of an inside joke.

The Mansions are the unofficial African quarter of Hong Kong. Most of the Free Enterprise Zone's African immigrants settle there if they can afford it.
The destitute refugees, like Izz and her family, don't get to go to Chungking Mansions. They get herded into the Walled City. And once they're inside, the Mansion District is where they wind up.
Forced relocation, huh? I guess some things never go out of style.
At least they had a place to go. Refugees aren't always so lucky.
No. They don't. And once the refugees arrive in the Mansion District, their prospects don't exactly improve.
The only things that most of the people in the Mansion had in common were the color of their skin and the fact that they were living in crushing poverty.

They didn't even have a common language to speak.
It was a pretty rough place. Lots of infighting, lots of gang-on-gang violence.

People did band together for protection, but there wasn't a lot of hope. Everyone lived in fear of being sent deeper into the slum, toward the center.

When you start getting dragged in that direction, you don't come back.
Sounds like a charming place.
Reminds me of life in the Barrens.
Yeah. Charming.

And that's where I met Is0bel. It wasn't long before we were friends.
She was interesting. I think that's why I let her latch onto me... the girl was smart, and savvy, but cripplingly shy.

She didn't belong in the Walled City... no one really does, but with her it was painfully obvious. She was like a little mouse crammed into a box full of weasels.

It was only a matter of time before somebody snapped her up.
So what happened? What led you to take her out of the Walled City?
But you got her out of there before that could happen.
Rat happened. She came to me in a dream, showed me that whatever was going bad in the Walled City was getting worse.

The whole place was rotting from the inside out, choking in bad qi and lost hope.
I decided to go inside one more time. If I found Is0bel, I'd offer to lead her out. If I didn't, well...

{{GM}}She grimaces. Spreads her arms.{{/GM}}
You'd have left her there.
I get it. You don't have to explain yourself to me.
You did find her. Doesn't matter what would've happened if you hadn't.
Look, it was her *home.* It wasn't mine, and I wasn't going back in there again. Period.

I'd decided to go just that once - and against my better judgment - to see if I could maybe take Is0bel out of there. But that was gonna be it. I wasn't gonna die to save her.
I guess that's fair.
That's noble of you.
You're damned right it is. More than fair. I risked my life to get her out.
...Anyway, I *did* bump into her. And she *did* follow me. And Rat got us both out safe.

{{GM}}She offers you a weak smile.{{/GM}}

So there. Happy endings all around.
Thanks. It isn't pleasant to think about, especially considering what a shithole the Walled City is now.

The truth of the matter is, if I hadn't pulled Is0bel out of there, she'd probably be dead by now.
I get it. Someone did the same for me and Duncan once.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

Yeah, I knew that you'd get it. And I *did* bump into her, and she *did* follow me, and Rat got us both out safe.

So there you have it. Happy endings all around.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

That's right. More accurately, Rat got her out of there. She came to me in a dream, showed me that whatever was going bad in the Walled City was getting worse.

The whole place was rotting from the inside out, choking in bad qi and lost hope.
Yeah. I imagine that the two were pretty equivalent back then, before the Walled City got *really* bad.

Anyway, this is where I met Is0bel. It wasn't long before we were friends.
Don't know if I'd call it luck. The only things that most people in the Mansion District had in common were their skin color and the fact that they were living in crushing poverty.

There wasn't even a common language for them to speak.
No. People like me and Duncan get their own districts in the Walled City, regardless of their country of origin. Nice, cushy places on the outer perimeter of the Wall.

There are advantages to being big and strong, especially when everyone around you is too malnourished to fight back.
Of course, the residents of the goblinoid districts all share a metatype or two. They've got something in common, a set of shared experiences to tie them together.

Not so in the Mansion District. The only things that those people had in common was their skin color and the fact that they were living in crushing poverty. There wasn't even a common language for them to speak.
It's real estate. Of course it's divvied up. The choicest pieces go to the biggest fish.

It's the same in the Walled City as it is everywhere else.
Is0bel and her family lived in the Mansion District. It's a sort of a holding pen for refugees from the Middle East and Africa. Basically anyone who isn't Asian, European, or goblinoid.

It's less pleasant than it sounds.
A lot. Some of them aren't much bigger than an apartment building.

You'd be surprised how many people you can cram into a single room when you have to.
Dead, I think. I'm not exactly sure.

{{GM}}She shrugs. A noncommittal gesture.{{/GM}}

They were gone, though. Out of the picture. I was pretty much free to do whatever I wanted.
Yeah. Kind of makes you shudder when you look back on it, huh? It's like, "Where were those kids' parents?!"

But then, with most street kids, that's a question that's best left unanswered.
Now, with Is0bel, it was a little different... she wasn't a street kid, not technically. She had parents who loved her. They just couldn't keep her safe, because in the Walled City, there's no such thing.
There have to be some safe places in the Walled City.
How bad was it for her?
Depends on who you are and where you're from.

For some people it's safe... the Yellow Lotus doesn't have much to worry about. The Lotus Den is the safest district in the Walled City. But Is0bel and her family lived in the Mansion District, and that's a different story.
"Mansion District." Sounds nice, right? But it really, really isn't.

Imagine a sort of a holding pen for refugees from the Middle East and Africa. Basically anyone who isn't Asian, European, or goblinoid. Now cram it full to twice its normal capacity and make sure that nobody living there can afford a loaf of bread.
Bad. Could've been a lot worse, of course - her family could've been living deeper inside the Wall, toward the center.

From what I've heard, that's hell on earth. But Is0bel and her family had it bad enough... they were in the Mansion District.
You were in the safest part of the Walled City, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). The Lotus Den is the lap of luxury compared to the rest of the place.

As you go deeper toward the center, it gets a whole hell of a lot worse.
Guess I'll have to take your word on that.
It's cool, I believe you.
Yeah, whatever. I've lived in Redmond, in the Barrens. I've seen the worst it can get.
Don't take mine. Take the word of everyone living in the shadow of that godforsaken place.

Or hell, take Is0bel's - she actually lived there.
Good. It'd be pretty stupid of you not to.

People avoid the Walled City like the plague for a reason.
You really, really haven't. People avoid the Walled City like the plague for a reason, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). Ignoring that fact would be a whole new level of stupid.
The bottom? What you saw? No, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). When you went into the Lotus Den, you were on the outer perimeter of the Walled City.

What you saw earlier is the *best* that the Walled City of today has to offer. As you go deeper toward the center, it gets a whole hell of a lot worse.
Anyway, back when I was a kid, it was pretty much all like what you saw in the Lotus Den. Not exactly Victoria Harbour, but survivable if you knew what you were doing.
Yeah. That's what I thought.

{{GM}}She reaches down. Absentmindedly strokes Madness's silky coat. The rat chirps happily at her caress.{{/GM}}
They went bad. Crazy. That Pig shaman that I knew wound up going full-on toxic. It was horrifying... he burned himself out in an orgy of blood.

{{GM}}She shudders.{{/GM}}

Nasty business, and not for me.
Toxic? What does that mean?
Don't you regret not being able to save him?
When a shaman goes toxic, he goes *bad.* It's like, if you invert the usual meaning of a totem, that's what a toxic shaman does.

Dog shamans are loyal and friendly, like all good dogs are. A toxic Dog shaman is rabid. They're both Dog, but they're different aspects of Dog.

Get it?
Yeah. And your Pig shaman friend went toxic?
That's what I heard.

You don't want to know what happened to him, what he became. It was... pretty bad at the end, before the locals overwhelmed him.

A lot of people died.
Regret? No. He was a shaman, he should have known what was coming. I was smart enough to get out when I could, and he wasn't.

Bad luck for him, but that's what happens when you don't pay attention.
You think that I didn't want to?

{{GM}}She sweeps a loose strand of hair out of her eyes.{{/GM}}

Look, it was going to be dangerous enough to get Is0bel out on her own. Dragging a whole family out with her would've been impossible.
Yeah, I get it. I would've done the same thing.
They were her parents, Gobbet.
Because they weren't like me and Izz. They hadn't grown up on the streets... they were upper-class people back in Somalia, before they emigrated to Hong Kong.

They were hopelessly out of their element. Even if I had managed to find them, they probably would've done something stupid and gotten us killed.
So you just left them?
You made the right choice.
Damn right I did. Even if I'd managed to convince them to come with us, they would've gotten caught.

The Yellow Lotus would've kidnapped them if they were lucky. If they were unlucky, the thrill gangs or the organleggers might've gotten them.

It wasn't worth the risk to even try.
{{GM}}She sniffs.{{/GM}}

...Besides which, Is0bel didn't *want* to bring her family.

She wanted to get away from them as much as she did from the Walled City. Never could get her to tell me why.
Good. You would've been right to.

{{GM}}She sniffs.{{/GM}}

...Besides which, Is0bel didn't *want* to bring her family. She wanted to get away from them as much as she did from the Walled City.

Never could get her to tell me why.
You think I don't know that?

Look, those people... they weren't like me and Izz. They hadn't grown up on the streets... they were rich back in Somalia, before they emigrated to Hong Kong.
Here, they were lost. Hopelessly out of their element.

Even if I had managed to find them, they probably would've done something stupid and gotten us killed.
Sure, ask away. I'm all ears.
(Can discuss dreams with Gobbet more.)
Yeah. About that.

{{GM}}She looks away.{{/GM}}

I've had a warning from Rat. She says that we should leave.
Leave? What do you mean, leave?
I mean *leave.* Get out of Heoi and away from the Walled City.

Ideally, we'd hole up in some quiet corner of Hong Kong Island - Stanley, maybe, or the New Territories Zone - and never come back.
Something dangerous is coming our way, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). Something that shouldn't be here.

It's inching its way through astral space toward our world, and this won't be a safe place to be when it gets here.
What're you going to do?
Not run. I want to, but I won't.

I'm not gonna lie, I'm worried about this. But I promise you that I won't let it drive me away.
You're stuck with me, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname).

You have my condolences.
Lucky Strike's Outfit
Sniffer 2.0
Increases your chance to hit against enemy IC and deckers by 20% for 3 RNDS.
Sniffer: Accuracy +20%
{{GM}}Hwang runs the back of his hand over his brow, whipping the sweat off into the street.{{/GM}}

Good riddance to that piece of trash.
{{GM}}Turning toward you, Hwang nods.{{/GM}}

You feel like finishing this off?

You give me the goods, I wire the money to your account once I verify everything's in order.
Sure. Here you go.
No. I think I'm going to kill you too.
{{GM}}Hwang takes the samples and data from you, nodding in satisfaction.{{/GM}}

Pleasure doing business with you.

Glad we could work this out.
{{GM}}Hwang's face twists into an expression of boiling rage.{{/GM}}

What?! You double-crossing bastard!
Rilaxin
An anti-depressant banned in the UCAS for its side effects. Willpower increased by 2. Quickness and Strength reduced by 1.
Rilaxin: Quickness & Strength -1, Willpower +2
SCK Model 100
SMG: The submachine gun made famous by the Renraku Red Samurai.
Control Spirit
Take Control Of Spirit.
Spirit Controlled
Boar Totem
The power of the Boar grants a personal passive benefit of +15 total HP to the Shaman.
Cast Manaball
AOE Magic Attack
Good protection. Decking and drone integration. The outfit of choice for many tech-savvy runners. Grants +1 Decking and +1 Drone Combat.
A trideo monitor displays a live feed from the network's newsroom.

It's a standard split-screen talking-heads back-and-forth between a perky newscaster and a stately woman of indeterminate old age.

The animated label under the older woman reads, "Executive Council Member Josephine Tsang."
... and if you are just joining us, we are talking live with Councilmember Tsang from her office in Prosperity Tower.

Councilmember, again, thank you for being here to help us make sense out of the conflicting reports we're getting out of Kowloon Walled City.
{{GM}}The elder woman nods with queenly composure.{{/GM}}

Thank you, Sunny. I only wish we were speaking in happier times.
Of course, madam. This is, indeed, a stressful day for the citizens of the Walled City. But who knows?

{{GM}}The newscaster brightens, flashing the best smile money can buy.{{/GM}}

For one of them, it might be their *lucky* day! Stay tuned, because we're going to cut away shortly to this week's Giga-Ball drawing where some lucky winner *could* walk away with almost one trillion nuyen!
{{GM}}The newscaster returns her focus to her guest, a look of practiced concern back on her face.{{/GM}}

Now madam, were saying that this sort of situation is inevitable when masses of underprivileged children are raised in a world without hope.
Exactly, Sunny.

{{GM}}Josephine Tsang leans forward towards the camera.{{/GM}}

Without hope, these children are left to create their own opportunities the only way they know how. By turning to crime. They're often brought up in single-family households without strong guidance to put them on the right path. They are surrounded by thugs and criminals, eager to put them to work in all manner of unsavory activities.
And it's events such as this one that call our attention to the plight of these poor, poor children.

That is why, today, I call on my Executive Council colleagues to join with me in supporting a new project - Operation Hope, which seeks to pull these children out of poverty and place them in loving, stable homes while their parents are rehabilitated, reeducated, and reinvigorated with a new sense of purpose.
That sounds like a tremendous -
It is, Sunny. And it will cost billions of nuyen to support such an mammoth effort. But Tsang Mechanical Services is ready to lead the way through our new charitable foundation, Tsang for Hope.

It's time for us to give *back* to the community and -
{{GM}}The newscaster puts her finger to her ear.{{/GM}}

Madam Councilmember, I'm afraid I need to cut you off there. As always, you are doing *amazing* work for the people of Hong Kong but...

{{GM}}Her dazzling smile returns.{{/GM}}

It's time for Giga-Ball!
{{GM}}The older woman smiles contentedly.{{/GM}}

Of course.
Again, thank you so much for joining us and offering your perspective.

{{GM}}The newscaster checks the notes in front of her.{{/GM}}

We have been speaking with Josephine Tsang, entrepreneur, philanthropist, and front-runner to be the next Chair of the Executive Committee...
The sound of the typhoon hammering down outside is nearly drowned out by the noise of evacuees fleeing their ordeal. The air smells of fear and bodily fluids, thrums with a bass note of expectation and doom.

You pause for a moment in the eye of the hurricane.
Ahead, the cancerous core of the Walled City and its concrete-encased Fortune Engine await.
No word yet from Mr. Tsang. Think he ran again?
*Raymond* won't run again, Duncan.
I don't think so.
I have faith in Raymond.
Good. I would rather not have a showdown with a demon-goddess. Shutting down that machine sounds much easier.
Let's continue clearing a path. Make it easy for him to follow.
We still have not heard from your foster-father. Perhaps he is dead.
Very comforting, Gaichu. Thanks. No, I think he just hasn't arrived yet.
No word yet from the old man, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). Think he hopped a suborbital?
Don't worry, Gobbet, he'll be here.
I've been watching the comm, $(l.name). Nothing. Think the old man's brain short-circuited?
No, Is0bel. He'll be here.
Still no word from Raymond Black. Perhaps he has reconsidered his position?
Raymond will be here, Racter. I don't think he reconsidered.
Ahead is the cancerous heart of the Walled City and the Fortune Engine.
A stocky dwarf leans up against the wall of the container room. His skin is sallow, and it hangs off of his bulky frame like a half-deflated balloon.

You saw plenty of sick people back in the Barrens - addicts, BTL-heads, people whose immune systems had been ravaged by disease. This guy looks worse.
The dwarf's milky eyes track you as you approach. A wave of recognition washes over his face, but his movements remain lethargic.

Eventually, he manages to slur out a few words.
Gobbet. Back after all this time.
Yeah. I'm sorry it's taken so long.

{{GM}}Gobbet stares at the dwarf, wide-eyed.{{/GM}}

It's good to see you again, Cad.
It's good to see you, too, kid.

{{GM}}Another coughing fit bends him over.{{/GM}}

I see you've found your friends.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

Yeah, found 'em.

You don't look very good, Cad-man.
Well, I'm breathing. Kinda.

{{GM}}He gestures to a rack of makeshift beds arranged around him. The cots are crammed full of the dead and dying.{{/GM}}

That's more than I can say for some.
{{GM}}She swallows.{{/GM}}

Cadmus, I...
Save it. I'm not mad.

{{GM}}He squeezes his eyes shut.{{/GM}}

I'm mostly just happy to hear your voice again. It's good to have a friend.
Are you sick, Cadmus?
Tell us what's happening here.
The talisman that the Rat King is holding... the Shiny Object... do you know how it works?
Did you try to fight this "Rat King"?
When did all of this start? It must have been some time after Gobbet left...
There's a trapped room at the end of the hall. Know anything about that?
We should go. Hang in there, man.
{{GM}}He grins. Between his sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, the end result is ghastly.{{/GM}}

Ill? I would say so. Deathly ill.

VITAS is a real bitch. Even a neutered strain like this one can really knock you on your ass.
You'll be okay, Cad. You're a dwarf, and a shaman. That's two big points in your favor.

You're gonna walk this off. You'll see.
Spare me the pep talk. I'm too tired to walk.

{{GM}}He coughs into his sleeve.{{/GM}}
Cad...
Save it. I know what my chances look like, and they ain't good.

I've seen a lot of our friends loaded into those cots, Gobbet. They all went out in garbage bags.
...Anyway.

{{GM}}He wrestles his mouth into a friendly smile.{{/GM}}

Let's talk about somethin' else, huh? All of this doom and gloom is getting to me.
Bad things. A lot of good people died.

Something's gone rotten on this raft, Gobbet. You know what I mean. Toxic.
Yeah. I can feel it, too. I could feel it all the way back home.

{{GM}}Her throat moves, but it takes a moment for her voice to catch up.{{/GM}}

...Cadmus... where are our friends? What happened to Yasmin and Anson and Malvina?
Anson's dead. He never even made it into the sickroom. Just... disappeared. But I know where he went.

{{GM}}He stabs a finger downward, at the floor.{{/GM}}
Yasmin's still with us. Small favors, right? But the fight has gone out of her... she's content to do what she's told and tremble.

Malvina ain't Malvina any more.
What is she?
I'd guessed as much.
I was afraid of that. I just needed to hear you say it.

She's gone toxic, hasn't she? She's gone toxic because of that damned bauble I gave her.
It ain't *her,* Gobbet. It's something else.

{{GM}}He struggles to contain another cough. Eventually it passes.{{/GM}}
...But yeah, that shiny red egg that you and Tsui lifted is the cause of it, I think.

The ugliness was already inside of her, but that thing brought it out.
{{GM}}She squeezes her eyes shut. Balls her hands into fists.{{/GM}}

*Shit.*
Cadmus. You said that Malvina isn't herself any more... so what is she?
It isn't your fault, Gobbet. You had to give her that thing to stop the mutiny.
Had a feeling that keeping that thing was a bad idea.
You ever heard of a rat king? It's an old folklore thing... bunch of rats all fused together, their tails all wrapped and twisted into a great big knot.

That's what Mal has become. I don't know how many different spirits she's tied her essence to, but the last time I opened my third eye to her, I couldn't see where they ended and she began.
What does that even mean? I've never heard of--
It means that she ain't human any more, girl. Her aura is bound to other things... *alien* things... all tangled and twisted and grown together.

They're all one being now. A Rat King. It talks like Malvina, but it ain't her any more.
So this Rat King is still human, physically speaking?
Is she possessed?
Don't know. I've heard rumors that Malvina's meat body is changing, too. Haven't seen it myself.

Don't know if I want to.
Another long, wet cough interrupts his speech. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
No. Best as I can tell, she invited this. Welcomes it.

Malvina and the things she's tied to are all one being now. A collective. And to listen to them talk, they like it that way.
I *know,* $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). I did what I had to do. No regrets.

But I'm pretty fucking angry about what happened afterward.
You and me both, kid. I'm as angry as I've ever been, and twice as frightened.
{{GM}}His chest heaves as a deep, bronchial cough wracks his body. With a grimace of distaste, he spits out a wad of bloody phlegm.{{/GM}}

...Y-You haven't seen what happened to Malvina. What she's become.
You need rest. We should put this on hold and--
{{GM}}He raises a hand, cutting her short.{{/GM}}

Got no time to rest. And you need to hear this. What we're up against.
{{GM}}Is0bel jabs her elbow into the meat of your leg. Her voice comes out in a hiss.{{/GM}}

Way to rub it in, asshole.
It's all right, Izz. $+(l.he)'s right - it *was* a bad idea. One that Malvina's to blame for.

I gave her the damned thing to fight Tsui. I didn't tell her to keep it.
No, you didn't. If you're gonna be mad at anyone, be mad at her. But you should be afraid of her, too.

I sure as hell am.
I don't know what it is. It's definitely toxic, but as for *what* it is...

{{GM}}His voice trails off. Cadmus stares up at Gobbet helplessly.{{/GM}}
Malvina went off the rails because of that damned bauble that I gave her. That's what happened, isn't it?
{{GM}}She shoots you an irritated glance.{{/GM}}

Hey, guess what? I had, too. But I wanted to give my friend the benefit of the doubt until I was sure.
{{GM}}She shifts her attention back to the ailing dwarf.{{/GM}}

Cad. Malvina went off the rails because of that damned bauble that I gave her. That's what happened, isn't it?
Nah. I tried assensing it once. The only thing that I took away from the experience was a migraine.

Felt like there were railroad spikes buried behind my eyes for days.
All I can tell you for certain is that it still works.

As long as the Rat King's connected to that thing, you can't hurt it. Any holes that you put in its body will close up on their own.
So what are we expected to do against that?
So it's invincible. Wonderful.
If the bauble makes the thing unkillable, then you'll need to find a way to get that bauble away from it.

Gobbet managed to do that during Tsui's rebellion. I'll bet that she could do it again.
I didn't say that. It's the bauble that makes the Rat King what it is, so you're just gonna have to find a way to steal it.

Gobbet managed to do that during Tsui's rebellion. I'll bet that she could do it again.
Yeah. I'd had enough, a lot of us had, so we took a page from old Tsui's book.

{{GM}}He offers you a sickly grin.{{/GM}}

We mutinied.
{{GM}}He gestures at the writing bodies on the cots of the sickroom.{{/GM}}

This is what's left of our side. Been locked in here for five days now, waiting for VITAS to finish the job.

The rest of us got fed to the rats.
That explains all the scarring and blood I saw around.
Doesn't seem to have gone very well.
Another mutiny? Seriously?
Yeah. We didn't make it far. Bloodied a few noses, broke a few bones, but that won't matter much in the end.
Truth is, we weren't prepared for how many of those bastard rats Malvina had bred. And we weren't expecting our shipmates to fight on her behalf.
Why would the others stop you from taking the ship back? That doesn't even make sense!
Why do you think, girl?

Fear.

Fear of death. Fear of being gnawed apart by a hundred vermin. Fear of that *thing.*
You're saying that the people here aren't brainwashed? That they're just afraid?
So the only people left here are a bunch of cowards.
Scared shitless is a better way of putting it. And I can't blame 'em.

If anything, *we're* the crazy ones for trying to fight that thing.
If the Rat King's soldiers only serve it because they're afraid, then maybe we can turn them away from it.
If they're making a conscious choice to collaborate with that thing, then they deserve whatever they get.
Could do. They might rally around someone they know. Maybe someone who lived with and fought for 'em years ago.

{{GM}}He eyes Gobbet.{{/GM}}

That was a subtle hint, girl.
I've got a better idea. We're gonna get you and your people onto lifeboats, and then we're sending this raft to the bottom of the bay. And the Rat King is going with it.
You can't mean that. This is our home. We've got nowhere else to *go,* Gobbet.

I am *not* gonna let that *thing* force us to put this raft to the torch.
You've already tried it your way. Look what happened.
{{GM}}Is0bel steps in.{{/GM}}

Maybe it's good that you leave this place. I've lived in a place like this before. I've seen what it can do to people.
She grew up in the Walled City, Cad.
Then she knows what we've got to look forward to if you sink this raft, 'cause we sure as hell can't afford to live anywhere else.
{{GM}}He cranes his neck to look up at Gobbet, pleading. Desperation burns in his eyes.{{/GM}}

Gobbet, listen. It isn't too late for the Sinking Ship. We can still turn this thing around.

My mutiny failed because the Rat King knew things that we didn't. Yours can succeed if you'll try.
{{GM}}She shakes her head obstinately.{{/GM}}

My gut says that we should sink the raft. It said that from the moment I arrived here. That's what *Rat* wants me to do, so that's what I'm *gonna* do.
Gobbet... Cadmus might be right. If we could drum up enough support, I think that we could retake the Sinking Ship.
Sorry, Cadmus... we're sinking this thing. You and your people will just have to take your chances on land.
{{GM}}Her eyes narrow.{{/GM}}

Have you forgotten the first lesson I taught you, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)? "Always go with your gut." And my gut says--
Spare us the lecture, Gobbet. Cadmus is right - you're going off half-cocked. Again.

The truth is, we can save this raft if you want to. If you don't, tell us and we'll sink it.
Look, Gobbet... things have changed since you decided to sink this raft. You can see that, right?
{{GM}}She sets her jaw, draws a deep breath, then slowly releases it.{{/GM}}

All right, Cad. If you're sure that you can keep up your end, I'd be willing to help you with your mutiny. But if your people fuck it up, I'm sinking this thing. Got it?
Yeah, and thanks. With your help, we can do this.
That remains to be seen.
{{GM}}He waves her off.{{/GM}}

Go on. Get moving, and convince as many people as you can to help us when the time comes. Whoever you don't bring around to our side is gonna fight against us, so be thorough about it.

When you're ready for us to make our move, trigger the shipboard alarm system. Two blasts. Then we'll start kicking in doors.
All right, Cad. Two blasts starts the mutiny. But if we sound the alarm once and leave it, you get your people the hell off of this raft. Got it?
One blast means you're sinking the raft. You do that and I'm kicking your bony ass from here to Macau, but... yeah. I hear you.

{{GM}}Another long, wet cough wracks his body.{{/GM}}

You got all of that, stranger? You know what you're supposed to do?
We convince people to join you, then trigger the alarm. One blast means we're sinking the raft, two means that the mutiny is on. Got it.
Good. Thanks.

And, Gobbet... thank you. Does me good to know that you're with us on this.
{{GM}}He squeezes his eyes shut. He looks tired.{{/GM}}

I can't stop you. I'm too weak, and I don't have the people. So if you're determined to do this, then I guess it's gonna happen. But I am disappointed.
If you'd prefer, we could just leave.
Go ahead if you want. I came here to put an end to this, and I'm going to.

Cad. I need you to gather your people and get them ready to run. Can you do that?
Yeah. Yeah, I can.

The runners who put the scuttling charges on the raft also installed a shipboard alarm system. I'll need you to trigger it when the charges are going hot. That'll let us know when we need to abandon ship.
Why not just leave now?
Because that'd tip the Rat King off. If we were to start running now, I think it'd notice.

I don't like what you're doing. But I'm not gonna sabotage you. If you won't help us retake the Sinking Ship, it's better that nobody have it.
We'll sound the alarm before we set off the charges. Thanks, Cad.
I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for my friends.

{{GM}}He turns away.{{/GM}}

Go on. Get out of here. I've got an evacuation to plan.
They're under duress. Some of 'em have family members on this raft that could wind up rat food if they don't follow orders.

They're still good people. They just need someone they can rally around. Somebody they know.
{{GM}}He gives Gobbet a significant glance.{{/GM}}

...That was a subtle hint, by the way.
{{GM}}His voice comes out in an angry rasp.{{/GM}}

If you're too stupid to see why they're right to be afraid, you aren't going to last long.

Look at what happened to us. Take a good, long look. *This* is what happens to people who oppose the Rat King.
The folks you've seen in the raft, or standing on the surface... they're all scared shitless, and I can't blame 'em.

If anything, *we* were the crazy ones for trying to fight that thing.
{{GM}}The half-smile on his face evaporates.{{/GM}}

No. It didn't.
It was better than submitting to the Rat King like everyone else. I wasn't gonna serve any longer. I couldn't... not after learning what it was.

Our friend is dead. Everything that was good about Malvina got eaten by the monster she's become.
Unfortunately, not everyone feels the same way that I did. We've got a lot of folks on this boat, and they've all got something to lose.

When push came to shove, most of 'em took the side that they thought would win.
Nah. Not long. Maybe a week or so.

We couldn't see it at the time, but it was happening. I'd stake my life on it.
I don't get this. Everything was *fine* when I left the raft. I mean, the vibe here had changed, but Malvina was still Malvina.

If anything, she was even *stronger* than the woman I'd known.
Yeah. She got strong, all right.

Strong, and mean.
It started small. A couple of months after Tsui's mutiny, Malvina started proposing new rules.

She said that she was cracking down on infractions. Keeping order to keep us safe. But over time, those rules started piling up. And gradually, the punishments started getting worse.
She became paranoid.
Do you think that the Shiny Object corrupted her somehow?
{{GM}}He gives you a shallow nod.{{/GM}}

Yeah, that's right. That's what I mean what I say that she had it in her all along.
{{GM}}He pauses. Checks himself.{{/GM}}

"She." I don't think that Malvina can even be described as a she anymore. She... *it*... is really a *they.*

Our friend is dead, or changed so much that she might as well be. And the things that're wearin' her skin don't belong in this world.
Nah. I think that it gave her power, and she corrupted herself.

No judgment, though. I think that in her place, a lot of us would do the same.
That's what I mean what I say that she had it in her all along. I think that she'd always been afraid, had always used rules to protect herself.

The trinket took that fear and focused it like a lens. And that opened the door to what she's become.
Yeah.

Me and my crew built the thing.
Let me guess. Malvina's orders?
{{GM}}He nods.{{/GM}}

First thing she asked us to do after Tsui's little rebellion. We started work on the thing the week after you left.

Yasmin was an charge of the project.
Can you tell us how to get past it?
No.

{{GM}}He coughs wetly into his sleeve.{{/GM}}

No, but... Yaz can. She should be somewhere on this level. Go find her, and tell her I sent you.
We will. Thanks, Cad.
{{GM}}He dabs specks of blood from his lips.{{/GM}}

Don't mention it.
{{GM}}He grunts.{{/GM}}

I ain't going nowhere. Be safe.
Gobbet's told me about you. How are you feeling?
Perfect. Thanks for asking.

{{GM}}He struggles to contain a burst of coughing.{{/GM}}

I mean, I'm dying... and my home has gone to shit... and we're probably gonna sink into the bay. But otherwise, I'm great.
{{GM}}With a visible effort, he shifts his focus to Gobbet.{{/GM}}

Welcome home, girl. Been a long time.
Hello, stranger. Don't see many new faces on the raft these days.

{{GM}}He sighs.{{/GM}}

But you're here, so you want something. Now what would that be?
{{GM}}Is0bel pushes forward.{{/GM}}

We're friends of Gobbet's. Seen her around?
{{GM}}He chuckles.{{/GM}}

Friend, if you're looking for Gobbet, you're about three years too late. Your friend ain't here.

And you've stumbled in the worst kind of place to be lost.
What's your name, friend?
Are you Cadmus?
I know what you mean. We had to deal with the welcome wagon upstairs. Things got hairy.
You haven't seen Gobbet lately, have you?
What's wrong with this place?
We'll leave you in peace.
Me? I'm nobody important.

{{GM}}He coughs into his sleeve. The sound is alarmingly wet.{{/GM}}

Just a man waiting to die.
{{GM}}He appraises you, a neutral look on his face. Finally, he nods with a grunt.{{/GM}}

Yeah. That's me.
{{GM}}He raises an eyebrow.{{/GM}}

I hope that you didn't kill them...?
We didn't have a choice.
{{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} No. Of course not.
{{GM}}The dwarf's complexion grows even more ashen. His eyes flit to the floor.{{/GM}}

Damn. Those were friends of mine.

They were out of their minds a bit, I'm sure. But they were still people.
We couldn't chance letting them live.
{{GM}}He squeezes his eyes shut.{{/GM}}

Look. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not feeling all that great. In fact, I don't have long on this Earth.

I'd rather not spend what little time I've got left talking about why my friends had to die.
Good. That's good.

They're friends of mine. Almost everyone left on this raft is. They're just... a little out of their heads right now.

Guess we all are.
No. Haven't seen the girl in years.

I'd love to, mind you. She was a good friend way back when.
Aside from the uninvited guests, you mean?

{{GM}}He struggles to stifle another cough.{{/GM}}

We've got a rat problem.
We've noticed.
Don't let what's happened to me happen to you, too. You want my advice, you get out of here, and you do it before you get bit.

{{GM}}He gestures at the sweat-damp heaps of cloth that line the walls around him.{{/GM}}

If you don't, you might just wind up on your deathbed here, right by my side.
Yeah. You do that.

If you should happen to find Gobbet, bring her by. I haven't seen her in a long time... it'd do me good to talk to her again before I die of this damned disease.
Be safe out there.
This fusebox looks like it's hooked up to the bridge behind you, and to the barricade in front of you.
If activated, it will destroy the bridge, preventing you from going back, but it will also destroy the barricade so that you can move forward.
{{GM}}Hit the demolition button.{{/GM}}
Rat Swarm
Rat Swarm: AP -1 per RND
Two attacks in one action that decreases the chance of critical DMG. Uses six bullets.
Basic hack attack, does 50 IP damage.
{{GM}}The glamorous starlet flashes you a standard celebrity smile. Lovely, but emotionless.{{/GM}}

Good evening. Penelope Wong... But, please, call me Penny.
Pleased to meet you, Penny. Name's Argyle.
I guess so. Parties aren't really my thing.
Fantastic party, Penny. Please extend my thanks to Mr. Ma. I'm $(s.honorific) Argyle.
{{GM}}She lifts her drink and takes a tentative sip.{{/GM}}

What brings you to our little soirée, $(l.honorific) Argyle? I don't believe I've seen you around the studio before.
It's a friend-of-a-friend sort of situation. He asked me to check in on Neville. Seems he's recovered quickly, considering the accident.
Just business. I'm surprised Mr. Ma's up and about so soon after his accident.
I'm representing some interested parties who'd like to collaborate with Yellow Springs Studios. They wanted me to make sure Neville's injuries were as minor as they'd heard.
{{GM}}A smile lights up her face.{{/GM}}

Oh, it was absolutely miraculous!

I must admit, I nearly died of fright when I heard what happened. But to look at Neville now, you'd never guess he'd been hurt. Just miraculous.
His medical bills must've been steep. I saw pictures of the accident - it was a mess, Neville included.
Miracles cost a lot of nuyen these days. Must've been some expensive treatments.
I'll keep his secret if you will. It's a shame the rumor mill's caught wind, though...
I wouldn't know. The hospital was first-class - only the best for Neville - but I never asked about his finances. It's not my place.
Can't fault you for that. If I had to guess, I'd say Neville reached out to some new investors to help cover his bills.
I wonder. Maybe he brought in a silent partner or two to help pay for his treatments.
I'm not sure even Neville could cover the costs for such *miraculous* treatments... whatever they may be. Think someone's cushioning his expenses?
You think so?

{{GM}}She sips her drink.{{/GM}}

I've never stayed in a hospital, myself. Don't believe the paparazzi, either - my nose has never seen the knife.

Is it very expensive? To undergo such miraculous treatments, that is.
Definitely. Hospitals charge a fortune for even the smallest of procedures. I'll bet someone helped Neville pay for it.
Very expensive. Do you think he's gotten someone new to invest in the studio?
Let me put it this way: even Neville, with all his money, would be hard-pressed to cover the costs. He probably brought a new guy in to cushion the bills.
There are rumors?

{{GM}}She blinks.{{/GM}}

I haven't heard any rumors...
Word on the Matrix is that he's been skimming off the top to pay for his treatment.
Just jealous babbling. You know the kind - that he's embezzling from the studio to pay for the treatment, et cetera.
You wouldn't believe the things people are saying. Embezzlement, secret partners, and other such chicanery. I'm sure it's all nonsense.
{{GM}}Her face reddens.{{/GM}}

That's ridiculous! The studio's doing better than ever - we're even expanding! No money lost there.
Yeah? I suppose that Neville's gotten some new investors, then.
I wouldn't put any stock in matrix rumors. Especially the ones about new investment partners.
Then he's got someone supporting him, like a new partner. That would make sense given his situation.
Someone... new?

{{GM}}For a moment she's lost in thought, face twisted in concentration.{{/GM}}

No, I don't think so. But... Neville *did* make some new friends while he was in Guangzhou.
Oh?
There was a woman... can't remember her name... who now visits Neville regularly.

I hear she's quite the fashionista.
They sound close.
Well, a powerful man like him must make a lot of friends.
This a business or personal relationship?
{{GM}}Penelope shrugs.{{/GM}}

They seem to get on well. I'm a little sad he's never introduced us, though.

She's supposed to make an appearance tonight. I'm very much looking forward to meeting her.
{{GM}}Penelope's gaze drifts over your shoulder for a moment, and she smiles at someone behind you.{{/GM}}

Oh, please excuse me. That's Mr. Yao, and I promised him I'd say hello tonight.

Enjoy the party!
One last thing before you go, Penny - do you have a key fob for Neville's security door?
Thank you, Penny. It was a pleasure.
{{GM}}She glances around to make sure no one else is listening, then leans toward you and lowers her voice.{{/GM}}

I could do with a few less parties and public events, myself. The curse of popularity, I suppose... Sometimes I feel like I'm a prisoner of my own success.
So, $(l.honorific) Argyle, tell me... what brings you here if you're not interested in these sorts of affairs?
My work, to be honest. Some friends were concerned about Mr. Ma's health, what with the accident.
I figured it was time to tear myself away from work for once, and I wanted to congratulate Neville on his speedy recovery.
Just people watching. Noticed Neville's back in action... So soon after what happened, too.
Your friends have nothing to worry about.

I must admit, I nearly died of fright when I heard what happened. But to look at Neville now, you'd never guess he'd been hurt.

{{GM}}She smiles demurely.{{/GM}}

It's miraculous, isn't it?
He'll be delighted to hear it! Our Neville takes any chance he can get to show how well Yellow Springs Studios is doing.

Do you know him well?
Not well, no, but we move in the same circles. I'm shocked that he's out of bed, much less hosting a party!
Never met him. But I couldn't miss the chance to see the unkillable man.
Not directly. But I'm in the film industry, too - just not in Hong Kong. I mostly came to see how he's recovering.
{{GM}}She nods eagerly.{{/GM}}

We all are. I must admit, I nearly died of fright when I heard what happened. But to look at Neville now, you'd never guess he'd been hurt.

It's miraculous, isn't it?
{{GM}}She turns her head and chuckles politely.{{/GM}}

He does seem to be that, doesn't he? I must admit, I nearly died of fright when I heard what happened. But to look at Neville now, you'd never guess he'd been hurt.

It's miraculous, isn't it?
Welcome back, $(l.honorific) Argyle. To what do I owe the pleasure?
I was hoping you could help me, Penny. Do you have a key fob for Neville's security door?
Just passing by. Have a wonderful evening, Penny.
{{GM}}A quizzical look crosses her face.{{/GM}}

I do. But... how do you know about that?
Building management told me. They sent me down to see if I could bring them your fob. They need it to fix a glitch, and they don't want to bother Mr. Ma.
A group from the party has gone upstairs - with Neville's blessings, of course. We'd like to open his place up, but we can't without a fob.
Neville asked me to grab something for him, but his door's locked. I'd ask him for *his* fob, but he's busy chatting with some guests right now.
Oh! In that case, please, take my key fob. Just bring it back when you're done, okay?

{{GM}}She digs around her purse before producing a small plastic device, then hands it to you.{{/GM}}
Thank you, Penny. You don't know how helpful you've been.
{{GM}}Penelope beams at you.{{/GM}}

Always happy to help where Neville's concerned.
Is0bel looks up at you, her teeth chattering. The rain continues to pour, spattering against the waterproof case of her cyberdeck.
We have to get across that gap, and the locals were a bust.

{{GM}}She scans the surface of the ship, shivering.{{/GM}}

Maybe we can scavenge something out of one of these trash piles. It's a long shot, but it's better than nothing.
It's worth a shot.
Ares Mono-Sword
Melee: A sword with superfine monofilament wire attached to the blade edges. Extremely sharp and unlikely to blunt.
Increases accuracy by 15%. Can hit adjacent targets at ranges of 6 or greater. Shares a cooldown with other Aim attack abilities.
Launcher: A trigger launcher test.
Browning Max-Power (Smartlink)
Pistol: A powerful heavy pistol and primary rival to the Ares Predator. Includes a Smartlink to increase accuracy.
Sniffer 1.0
Increases your chance to hit against enemy IC and deckers by 15% for 3 RNDS.
Narcoject Knockout Rifle
Rifle: Delivers chemical-coated darts, doing little up-front damage but 4 HP and 1 AP DMG per RND for 3 RNDs.
Narcoject Toxin: HP -4 per RND
Laser Mount
+4 DMG, +5% accuracy.
A young woman lies on the ground. She's a bloody mess - streaks and spatters of crimson crisscross her blouse and mat her hair. Judging by the quality of her clothing and the bag on her shoulder, you'd make her out as a student - she's as out of place here as a librarian would be in a game of Urban Brawl.

She struggles to move, but she's clearly exhausted. The dark circles under her eyes tell you that she hasn't slept in days.
{{GM}}When the woman sees you heading her way, her face hardens. You see her hand slip into her jacket pocket, but as she studies your faces, the fear in her eyes gives way to curiosity.{{/GM}}

You guys don't look like you're from around here.

{{GM}}A hacking cough shakes her, but her eyes remain fixed on you.{{/GM}}
That's right. We're out-of-towners.
You either. Who are you?
Cool... that's cool.

{{GM}}She looks like she can barely keep her eyes open.{{/GM}}

Predators. I'm okay, though... the blood's theirs.

Thought I'd rest here for a minute before I got back to work.
Work? You here on a job?
I think you'd better get yourself checked out at a hospital. Work can wait.
{{GM}}She shakes her head.{{/GM}}

No. School. I'm a student at HKU.

{{GM}}She glances around watchfully - over your shoulder, at the buildings looming above her, into windows nearby.{{/GM}}

Here to do some research. Gotta finish before I can leave.
{{GM}}She shakes her head violently.{{/GM}}

No. I'm not hurt, just tired. And the only hospital I'm covered to use is the HKU campus clinic.

{{GM}}She glances around watchfully - over your shoulder, at the buildings looming above her, into windows nearby.{{/GM}}

Doing some research. Gotta finish before I can leave.
{{GM}}She looks like she can barely keep her eyes open.{{/GM}}

Predators. I'm okay, though... the blood's theirs.

Thought I'd rest here for a minute before I got back to work.
I'm a student at HKU.

{{GM}}She glances around watchfully - over your shoulder, at the buildings looming above her, into windows nearby.{{/GM}}

Doing some research. Gotta finish before I can leave.
This place is dangerous. What are you doing here alone?
You look like you haven't slept in days.
What kind of research?
I wasn't alone. Not until a few days ago.

{{GM}}Another long, wet cough.{{/GM}}

I'd been living with a family in one of the inner blocks for the last couple of months, working on my master's thesis.
What happened to the family?
Funny place to write a thesis.
{{GM}}A pained expression washes over her face.{{/GM}}

I'm not a hundred percent sure.
The mother... she worked in a dive bar as a hostess. The father was a handyman. They never really went anywhere... didn't have the money to.

I woke up one day, and the whole family was gone. Just gone.
I squatted in their place a while but then some... people started coming around. Eying the place.

I figured I should get out - finish my research as fast as I could and head back to campus.

Then I got sick.
{{GM}}Wu grunts.{{/GM}}

What kind of research would you do in a place like this?
My thesis is about feng shui in the Sixth World.

This was the right place to do it... the only place to do it. Otherwise I wouldn't be here.
{{GM}}Her voice takes on a defensive edge.{{/GM}}

It's the right place for *mine.* My thesis is on feng shui in the Sixth World.
That's because I haven't.

I'd been living with a family in one of the inner blocks for the past few months, working on my thesis. It was bad, but I could handle it.

For the past five days, though... I've been living on the streets, hiding from the predators.
Field work. I've been taking readings and gathering stories for my master's thesis on feng shui in the Sixth World.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Academic{{/CC}} Still in the data-gathering phase? Or are you attempting to verify a hypothesis?
What's feng shui?
What does feng shui have to do with a slum?
{{GM}}The student's tired face brightens.{{/GM}}

Verification. You know much about feng shui? Specifically, how it applies here in Hong Kong?
A little. Why don't you educate me?
Plenty.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

As you may know, feng shui is one of the Five Arts of Chinese Metaphysics. Before the Awakening, it was thought of as a philosophical system for harmonizing people with the surrounding environment.
Today, in the Sixth World, feng shui is more than just a philosophical construct. It's actually a form of magic.

The whole thing revolves around qi, the invisible life energy that binds every person and thing together. It's very real here in Hong Kong... nobody knows the reason why. Maybe it's only real because people believe that it is. The important thing is, it's a measurable, quantifiable phenomenon. There's an entire industry that's grown up around it.
Then you know why my research had to be done here... you understand what the disharmony of the Walled City means, magically speaking.

You get how bad the feng shui here is, and what that must mean for the flow of qi in the area.
Yeah, I get all of that.
On second thought, maybe you should explain it to me after all. I'm a little rustier than I thought.
{{GM}}She nods, satisfied.{{/GM}}

All right. Good. It's nice not to have to explain concepts like harmony and qi for once.

Most outsiders and visiting academics don't know the first thing about how things work in Hong Kong.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

Okay. All right.

So as you may know, feng shui is one of the Five Arts of Chinese Metaphysics. Before the Awakening, it was thought of as a philosophical system for harmonizing people with the surrounding environment.
{{GM}}Although she is exhausted and possibly ill, the student's eyes gleam.{{/GM}}

Feng shui is one of the Five Arts of Chinese Metaphysics. Before the Awakening, it was thought of as a philosophical system for harmonizing people with the surrounding environment - you know, architecture, interior design, stuff like that.

Now, in the Sixth World, feng shui has become more than that. My thesis is about how it's actually a form of magic.
The whole thing revolves around qi, the invisible life energy that binds every person and thing together. It's very real here in Hong Kong... nobody knows the reason why. Maybe it's only real because people believe that it is.

The important thing is, it's a measurable, quantifiable phenomenon. There's an entire industry that's grown up around it.
So how's the qi in this place?
This doesn't look like a place where people are harmonized with anything.
It's wrong - all wrong. The feng shui in the Walled City is completely screwed... I mean, *look* at the place.

{{GM}}She gestures at the squalor surrounding you.{{/GM}}

You can feel it, right?
No, it isn't. Not at all. The feng shui in the Walled City is completely screwed... I mean, just *look* at the place.

{{GM}}She gestures at the squalor surrounding you.{{/GM}}

The qi is all wrong here. You can feel it, right?
I felt that something was wrong the minute I walked in.

Bad qi, huh?
Yeah. Bad feng shui.

Qi needs to flow, or it goes sour. Positive feng shui allows that to happen.
Qi needs to flow. Positive feng shui allows that to happen.

If qi gets pent up and trapped, it goes sour. That's what's happening here.
{{GM}}The woman clears her throat, then lets out a hacking cough. The effort requires a moment for her to recover before she speaks again.{{/GM}}

Y'know, I hate to admit it, but... I could use some help.

I started running an... well, I guess you'd call it an experiment of sorts. Nothing conclusive, just a few quick trials to support my hypothesis before I go into hard-core data-gathering mode.
There are only a few things left to do... If you could finish them for me, I could get out of here.

{{GM}}She holds out a crumpled piece of paper.{{/GM}}

Please... follow the notes on this sheet.
What for? Tell me what you need me to do.
{{GM}}Duncan takes the paper from her outstretched hand and examines it, frowning.{{/GM}}

Just say what you need us to do.
I need you to make adjustments to the area's feng shui. My notes will tell you how. The goal is to remove sources of friction, and to record the results.

My hypothesis is that even small adjustments can have a measurable impact on qi flow. If I'm right, it should improve, and life here should get just a little bit better.
You rest. I'll take care of it.
Everything, I think. Absolutely everything.

Rich people hire geomancers to design the interiors of their homes - to attune them just right to achieve balance and harmony. The poor have nothing like that. Leave a slum to fester long enough, and you get *this.*

{{GM}}She glances at her surroundings, a look of profound disgust on her face.{{/GM}}
I think that the negative feng shui of places like this affects the people who live here. That it changes them in a fundamental way, makes them less capable of breaking the cycle and getting out.

That's what I'm trying to prove.
Before the Awakening, people thought of feng shui as a philosophical system.

Now, in the Sixth World, it's more than that. It's actually a form of magic.
{{GM}}The young woman startles at your approach, fumbling for something in her pocket. When she recognizes you, she relaxes.{{/GM}}

Is it done?
It's done.
No. I'm still working on it.
Thank you. Thank you so much.

{{GM}}The young woman sighs with relief. She opens the flap on her satchel, reaches inside, and produces a plastic sheaf.{{/GM}}

I'm not magically active, so I can't *see* the flow of qi in the area. But I've got test strips... little sheets of paper embedded with qi-sensitive bacteria. It's a close relative of FAB, but it doesn't see much use outside of Hong Kong.
She pulls a strip out of the sheaf and holds it to the air.

Within seconds, it turns ink black.
{{GM}}She lets out a dejected sigh, her eyes shifting from the strip, to her watch, to the strip again. She looks utterly defeated.{{/GM}}

Damn it. I've been making adjustments for weeks now, trying to get the qi to circulate better, and nothing seems to work.

If anything, this one went bad even *faster* than the control strips I took when I got here.
Maybe you're doing it wrong.
Any idea why?
I've followed the texts... done everything right. It *should* work.

The qi here is rancid, that's obvious... but I swear, it's even worse than it *should* be.

No wonder this place is so disgusting.
No. It should work. I've followed the texts... done everything right.

The qi here is rancid, that's obvious... but I swear, it's even worse than it *should* be.

No wonder this place is so disgusting.
I get what you mean.
{{GM}}The student coughs and rests her head in her hands.{{/GM}}

That's it. I'm getting out of here... in a little while. Gotta tell my advisor about this.

Thanks for the help. Hope you don't stay long... I sure as hell won't.
Please hurry. I want to get the hell out of here.
Cross Cyber Spur
Uses the Close Combat skill for accuracy and Cyber Affinity for critical chance. DMG: Strength + 4. Causes 1 bleeding DMG. Does no AP DMG. Pierces up to 1 Armor.
Soul Drain
Using Soul Drain Power
Manaball I
A magical explosion that pierces up to 2 Armor.
Erosion Blaster 2.0
{{GM}}The chef peers at you over a mountain of oysters.{{/GM}}

No guests in the kitchen. *Out.*
Sorry to intrude, but I need to speak with the head chef.
The service here is absolutely barbaric. I demand to speak to the head chef!
{{CC}}Etiquette: Socialite{{/CC}} Aren't you Yan-Lung Tso? Word of your magnificent cuisine has spread even as far as Seattle. It's an honor to meet you in person.
{{GM}}He grabs a towel off a nearby rack and wipes his hands, grumbling to himself.{{/GM}}

*I'm* head chef.

I've little time to cook my food, and even less for conversation.
Don't give me that. I'm a guest here, and I deserve answers to my questions.
{{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} It'd be in your best interest to answer my questions. How do I best put this? I am... a *very* influential person.
This will only take a minute.
Just make it quick. You've got sixty seconds before I have to pull these prawns out of the boiler.
I'm looking for someone in the restaurant. Mr. Lo. He's likely in one of the private dining rooms.
I'm told one of tonight's guests has a shellfish allergy. A less-than-mild mannered ork. Sound familiar?
Do you have any idea how many orders I prepare?

{{GM}}Frustrated, he makes an exaggerated shrug.{{/GM}}

I don't know where they go. I cook them, place them on this counter, and they disappear. Only time I care about who ordered what is if the dish is sent back with a complaint.
This man's bodyguard is an ork. Big, nasty thing with a scar on his face. Probably not the most well-mannered of diners.
I see. Maybe I should ask elsewhere. But if I don't get my answers, I'm coming back.
That's a polite way to put it. Gave two of my cooks broken ribs and a matching set of black eyes last time he stormed my kitchen.

{{GM}}He waves his hand.{{/GM}}

Yes, I know that ork. Got a shellfish allergy he's overly keen on hounding us about. As though this wasn't the *top* seafood restaurant in the Sixth World.
Right. So. What would it take for him to wind up with a few shrimp in his meal tonight?
I need that ork out of my way. And with a couple shellfish, I think you can help me.
Mistakes happen. Sometimes you reach for a mushroom and accidentally grab an oyster. Maybe such an accident happens to our ork friend. Know what I'm saying?
What!?

{{GM}}He balks at your suggestion. After a moment's recovery, he looks straight at you, nostrils flared.{{/GM}}

You can't possibly be saying what I think you are. You want me to... *poison* a diner? You're deranged!

I'm calling security.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Corporate{{/CC}} Haven't you noticed the lack of guards tonight? I've no doubt Wuxing's aware I'm here. It's as if they *want* a certain someone out of the way. Are you going to disappoint them?
{{CC}}¥250{{/CC}} {{GM}}Bribe.{{/GM}} I just need your hand to slip... add an extra ingredient or two.
{{CC}}Biotech: 3{{/CC}} Listen, with your meager serving sizes, it isn't possible for him to eat enough to become seriously ill.
Let's be honest. Everyone at the Shangri-La *hates* this guy. You make him sick, you make people happy. It's your call.
{{GM}}The chef nervously wrings his towel between his hands. Stares at the sumptuous plates of food waiting to be eaten.

A glance over his shoulders. A shake of his head.

And he smiles. A small, wry thing.{{/GM}}

Y'know, he never appreciated our cuisine. Our *art.* I think a special thanks is in order.

See yourself out, won't you?
{{GM}}The chef squares his shoulders and sucks in his breath.{{/GM}}

You have some gall walking into my kitchen and telling me how to make my food. I am a *professional.* Sure, diners can be dicks. They can be horrible, wretched, shit-eating bottom crawlers. But the very idea of poisoning one of them and soiling my name is disgusting.
You have a problem with the Talon? Take it up with him yourself!

Now get your craven ass out of here before I call for the guards.
Please don't.

{{GM}}He flings his towel onto his shoulder and shifts his attention to a pot of boiling prawns.{{/GM}}

Time's up. Out with you.
{{GM}}The chef freezes at the implication in your words. Eyes scan your face, searching for any tell that might suggest you're bluffing.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}His brusque demeanor relaxes.{{/GM}}

Ah. A fellow epicure?

I suppose I can make time for a fan all the way from... where is it you said? Seattle? Quite the trip you've made.

What is it you need, $(l.sir)?
I won't keep you long. Just have a question.
{{GM}}The chef looks up from his burners.{{/GM}}

What more could you possibly want? I've already compromised my schedule once tonight on your behalf.

I need you *out* of my workspace.
{{GM}}The chef spins around from his cutting board, a cleaver clutched loosely in his hand.{{/GM}}

You again? Why are you still wasting my time?

{{GM}}He waves the knife in your direction.{{/GM}}

You want a piece of this? No? Then get out!
This is important. I heard that one of your private diners throws a tantrum if his special orders are botched.
Point made.
Rifle: An easy favorite of runners, combining high stopping power with ammo capacity in a familiar package. Pierces up to 2 Armor.
Yamatetsu Cyber Spur
Uses the Close Combat skill for accuracy and Cyber Affinity for critical chance. DMG: Strength + 6. Causes 2 bleeding DMG. Does no AP DMG. Pierces up to 3 Armor.
Qi Focus
Make 2 melee attacks on one target. Increases chance for a critical DMG.
Water Bolt III
A bolt of water that targets a single enemy. Strips 2 Armor from the target.
Mini-Grenade Launcher
Fires miniature grenades that can be armed individually as proximity mines.
Secure Adept Clothing
Basic clothing for the shadowrunning adept.
Water Bolt II
Basic Self Repair Protocol
The drone can preserve its basic systems at the cost of 1 AP. This replenishes 10 HP.
{{GM}}He cradles his credstick in a pair of gnarled hands.{{/GM}}

Thank you so much... this is everything I have in the world...
I don't want any trouble, boss.

{{GM}}He exhales sharply.{{/GM}}

Please. Just leave me be.
{{CC}}Item: Cheap Credstick{{/CC}} {{GM}}Hand him back his credstick.{{/GM}} Here you go, man. Got this back for you.
Sorry for your troubles. I'll leave you alone.
Oh, thank you, thank you!

...I, uh... I don't have anything that I can reward you with. But I appreciate what you did!
Short Stab
You've got the books. Great.

Next you need to head upstairs so I can wipe the security data. Then you're home free.
You make it sound easy.
Did you know these creatures were here?
Security room's at the top of the stairs leading back into the museum floor.

{{GM}}A click in your commlink, and he's gone again.{{/GM}}
It *will* be. I wrote a custom program to doctor the logs.

Now, time's wasting. Security room's at the top of the stairs leading back into the museum floor.

{{GM}}A click in your commlink, and he's gone again.{{/GM}}
No. I planned this run down to the last detail, but those monsters were a happy accident.
*Happy* accident? They tried to kill me!
Great. I'll keep my eyes open for more *happy* surprises.
Not sure how your meticulous planning didn't account for the hordes of basement monsters.
They also killed all the researchers, preventing these books from being cataloged. Finding them would have been a *lot* harder had these creatures not come along.

Now, time's wasting. Security room's at the top of the stairs leading back into the museum floor.

{{GM}}A click in your commlink, and he's gone again.{{/GM}}
You do that.

Now, time's wasting. Security room's at the top of the stairs leading back into the museum floor.

{{GM}}A click in your commlink, and he's gone again.{{/GM}}
It's a tomb. Things are bound to pop up, which, in your line of work, you should be prepared to handle.

Now, time's wasting. Security room's at the top of the stairs leading back into the museum floor.

{{GM}}A click in your commlink, and he's gone again.{{/GM}}
Martial Defense II
Active: The adept gains a Medium Cover bonus against incoming attacks for 4 RNDs Cooldown: 6
Defense: Medium Cover
Clothing for that traditional mage look. Grants +1 Willpower.
Deluxe Knight Errant Drone
An oil-blotched dwarf halfheartedly scrubs at her hands above a sink. Her ragged clothing resembles a paint canvas covered in multiple hues of mechanical grime.
{{GM}}With a slight turn of the head, she looks toward you.{{/GM}}

Need something?
Yeah. You know anything about the fire alarm system here?
I think I'm lost. Can you help me out?
{{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} Your cooperation. I'm here to perform a security audit for Wuxing.
{{GM}}She grabs a towel to dry her hands, but only succeeds in smearing the grit around. With a sigh, she turns toward you and points out the door from which you entered.{{/GM}}

Big console. Other side of the lobby. By the front.

{{GM}}She tosses the stained towel into the sink.{{/GM}}

Can't miss it.
What can you tell me about it?
You seem to know it well.
I was hoping you could tell me a little more.
It's your standard Yokogawa fire interdiction system. In the event of an alarm - real or test - it locks all doors on the floor in question. Seals 'em shut.

After that, it cues the deafening alarm and flashing lights.
{{GM}}She raps her still-oily fingers atop her hip impatiently.{{/GM}}

Now that I've told you what you wanna know, I'm going back to work.
You don't seem to care that a stranger's asking you about fire alarm systems.
You're not worried what I'll do with this knowledge?
Huh. That was easy. I'd have thought you'd question my intentions, first.
Not my job to care.
Not an information desk, friend. I do real work.
Well, ain't that wonderful.

{{GM}}Her voice is thick with sarcasm.{{/GM}}

But I'll opt out. Wuxing's got me doing an air duct audit, myself. And let me tell you, I've made some pretty upsetting discoveries. Disgusting, slimy, biohazardous discoveries.
{{GM}}She half-turns toward you and plants a gooey hand on her hip.{{/GM}}

Maybe when we're both done, we can compare findings. But right now I've gotta get this crap off of me.

G'luck to you. You'll need it.
Was I not clear before? I'm *busy.*
I just have a quick question about the fire alarm system.
Raquel the Uzi
A heavily modified Uzi III belonging to Ten-Armed Ambrose.
Force 3 Water Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 3 Water Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
A simple keypad with worn buttons.
8974
Nearly soundless, the door slides open.
The side door is maglocked. There's no keypad or keycard slot, so its security controls must be nearby.
Cavalier Frag Grenade
Cavalier's midline frag grenade.
Manaball III
A magical explosion that pierces up to 3 Armor. Does ongoing 8 HP DMG for 2 RNDS. Ongoing DMG ignores armor.
Mana Burn: HP -8 per RND
Force 2 Water Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 2 Water Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Sorry, but I can't let you past here - not unless you've checked in. Show your credentials at the counter to my right, and you're good to go. Otherwise...

{{GM}}He cracks his knuckles.{{/GM}}

I get mean.
All right. I'll check in.
{{GM}}Attack the guard.{{/GM}} Oh, yeah? Let's see who's meaner.
Vanguard Mage
Martial Defense I
Active: The adept gains a Light Cover bonus against incoming attacks for 4 RNDs. Cooldown: 6
Defense: Light Cover
Your bunk on the trawler lies waiting, patient and seductive. It beckons with the promise of escape.
{{GM}}Go to sleep and end the campaign.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Attend to unfinished business.{{/GM}}
You drop your head onto the pillow and haul the rough naval blanket over you. The $(story.Global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName) rocks like a cradle and, moments later, you are wrapped in the comforting arms of sleep.

There are no nightmares.
Only shadows.
Manaball II
A magical explosion that pierces up to 2 Armor. Does ongoing 8 HP DMG for 1 RND. Ongoing DMG ignores armor.
Force 5 Water Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 5 Water Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Modded Errant Flashbang Grenade
An effective flash grenade. Does -2 AP to everyone hit by its blast. Makes targets easier to hit.
Water Bolt I
Force 4 Water Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 4 Water Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Carter's Armored Vest
Centurion Laser Axe
Melee: Has two welding lasers focused along the cutting edge, greatly improving its cutting effectiveness.
And who are *you* supposed to be?
{{GM}}Show him your Tsang security passes.{{/GM}} First day. Was told to report here.
Well, then. Welcome to the shit show that is Floor B3. Our boss is a dick, bad at everything, and loves to blame others. That's why the company put her down here.
How about a tour?
Any tips?
I'm guessing she's not the lenient type.
No chance. Rotation's over, and I'm taking my three-day break. But, hey, word of advice: make it a habit to check in with the boss early. She *hates* it when people are late. And with how much she enjoys pointing that finger...

Stay on her good side.

{{GM}}He locks his locker and heads out.{{/GM}}
Yeah. Don't fuck up. You're at Tsang, now. Not even our god-awful boss will tolerate anything less than your best. In fact, I suggest you make it a habit to check in with her early. She *hates* it when people are late. And with how much she enjoys pointing that finger...

Stay on her good side.

{{GM}}He locks his locker and heads out.{{/GM}}
Leniency? Here? Just where do you think you're working? Not even our god-awful boss will tolerate anything less than your best. In fact, I suggest you make it a habit to check in with her early. She *hates* it when people are late. And with how much she enjoys pointing that finger...

Stay on her good side.

{{GM}}He locks his locker and heads out.{{/GM}}
You new around here?

Nah, no need to answer. I can see it in your eyes. Good luck with your first day, pal. You'll need it.
Acrid Spit I
A vile spitting attack that does 12 HP DMG and 1 AP DMG.
Looks like we've battered this place enough, $(l.name). Just like our client wanted.

All that's left is to trash the temple's statue, and then we can leave.
But the more damage we do, the more we'll get paid. I vote that we stay a little longer.
I'm all for money, Izz, but this is some seriously unsettled qi. I can't predict what'll happen if we stay here and make things worse.

I have a feeling we might find ourselves in a *very* dangerous situation.
We're being paid to break things, and you're suggesting that we stop while there are still plenty of things to be broken?

Like that chair over there. Take a good, hard look. It's just asking to be tussled.
I'm all for money, but this is some seriously unsettled qi. I can't predict what'll happen if we stay here and make things worse.

I have a feeling we might find ourselves in a *very* dangerous situation.
I sense that we've thoroughly upset this building's energy. All that remains is the vandalization of the temple statue, and then we must go. The qi here has become too... turbulent.
{{GM}}Gobbet shuffles nervously.{{/GM}}

All right, I'm callin' it. We've thoroughly disrupted the balance of qi, and Rat's feeling antsy here with all these energy shifts. Let's hit the temple statue and get out.
You take a quick look around the room, but nothing else stands out. You've battered this place enough - just like your client wanted.

All that's left is to trash the temple's statue, and then you're done here.
That's it, $(l.name). Job's done. Now let's book it before this place comes apart at the hinges.
It is done. We should leave this place. The energy has become too turbulent to risk staying any longer.
Okay, we're done. Done! Now can we please get out of here? Rat's uncomfortable, and my skin's crawling from all the turbulent energy here.
You take a quick look around the area, but nothing else stands out. You've battered this place enough - just like your client wanted.

With the temple in ruins, all that's left is to get the hell out of this lifeless monolith.
This electro-furnace room has been built out as a medical clinic. And a machine shop.

The air is alive with the rumble of the furnaces, and the hum of cooling fans. It is sweltering.
The front area is more like a homey coffeehouse than a clinic lobby: comfortable old furniture. Used digi-pads. Coloring books.
The wall opposite the boilers is cluttered with a mixture of photos and prints: local artists' work, images of military vehicles, off-road racing, Rube Goldberg machines.

Personal photos. Old-time Chicago gangsters. The Desert War's Motorized Combat Division.
{{GM}}Glance around the clinic space.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Inspect the personal photos.{{/GM}}
The work area looks more like a machine shop than a medical theater.

A roboticized operating table and a hydraulic lift supporting a partly disassembled V8 engine occupy places of equal importance, against the north and south walls.

Prosthetic limbs are racked overhead, like machine parts. A heavy-lift hoist is clamped to an I-beam.
An impressive home-built computer sits against the far wall. Several bulkier towers sit under the desk, fans whirring.

It looks more like a sysadmin decker's server station than a doctor's terminal.
{{GM}}The floors are scuffed concrete, stained with grease and old blood. The faint odors of ammonia, gasoline, and antiseptic mingle in the air.

A large sign on the back wall reads:

SANITARY SPACE. NO SPITTING.{{/GM}}
The pictures are mostly of Heoi residents, holidays, and parties. Ten-Armed Ambrose is in many of them.
The vast scope of photos suggests that Ambrose must be acquainted with almost everyone in Heoi.
This impressive home-built computer is running multiple large memory units and processors. Chilled air from its active cooling system washes across you, to the whir fans.

A thin fiber-optic cable runs across the floor, to Ambrose, in his chair.
On the wall behind the computer are miscellaneous decorations, notes, and photos. Two items stand out: a large dry-erase calendar, and a corkboard plastered with printouts.
{{GM}}Examine the corkboard printouts.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Look at the calendar.{{/GM}}
News clippings and BBS posts have been printed, carefully snipped, and pinned in place.

Most are less than a year old. They're intermixed with grainy photographs of what looks like a devastated city: Chicago.
The news articles describe an outbreak of a virulent version of the VITAS plague in the city, and the subsequent quarantine of a zone containing hundreds of thousands - if not millions - of people.
The newest items are plaintext bulletin board postings, printed out. The very fact that they're from so crude a site is strange... very, very few Matrix sites are so plain.
{{GM}}Examine the postings.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Try to parse the source of the strange printouts.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Etiquette: Academic{{/CC}} {{GM}}Search your mind for an analogous event.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Etiquette: Shadowrunner{{/CC}} {{GM}}Identify the source of the printouts.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Return your attention to the wall as a whole.{{/GM}}
Files smuggled out from within the Containment Zone. They describe a cover-up: the detonation of a small nuclear weapon, and the catastrophic release of insect spirits into the city.

The current conditions, as reported by drones and escapees, are horrific.
The postings are from a simple bulletin board system, such as would usually be used only when bandwidth is at a premium or data has to be sent long distances... like, thousands of kilometers.
You can pick out some recurring statements that seem to refer to the venue. "The BBS." "Shadowland." The primary moderator looks like someone named "Captain Chaos."
These postings are probably from the North American dark Matrix site that operates out of the Denver Data Haven... the so-called "Shadowland."

*The* Shadowland... supposedly the global mothership of Matrix havens for runners.
It takes a moment, then a similar set of described conditions comes to mind:

"The 900 Days," by Harrison Salisbury. A detailed Russian account of the twentieth century Nazi siege of Leningrad, Russia.
These posts are from the Shadowland... *the* Shadowland, a dark Matrix site for shadowrunners that operates out of the Denver Data Haven.

It's the first and foremost of all underground and anonymous systems dedicated to shadowrunning activity. Captain Chaos, Fastjack, and other global shadow-decking luminaries appear in these posts.
You return your attention to the wall, canvased with a baffling array of photos and mementos.
The dry-erase calendar is cluttered with a relentless storm of commitments, written in cramped, sloppy hanzi.

Most appear to be medical appointments with patients, followed by a busy list of social engagements.
Closer scrutiny reveals others:

A basic mechanics class on Wednesday nights. Basic computer coding, Sunday afternoons. Before both of these, inked in red marker, is: "PREPARE LESSON PLAN, YOU STUPID IDIOT!"
Holidays. Big combat auto races. Birthdays.

Every Sunday until 4 p.m. is simply labeled "Engine."
Only five hours a night are allocated to sleep, but large swathes of time are conspicuously labeled "HANGOVER."
The photos, news clippings, and mementos posted around the clinic are visibly consistent with Ambrose's story.
Through the general decorations, you can trace his journey:

A bunch of aging Chicago photographs. Seattle.

The ocean, from what looks like a container ship. Osaka, Japan. Singapore. Hong Kong. The residents of Heoi, plastered over everything else.
{{GM}}Inspect the Chicago photos.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Look through the general decorations.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Spellcasting or Conjuring{{/CC}} {{GM}}Use Astral Perception to examine the clinic.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Stop looking around.{{/GM}}
Many are photos of Chicago landmarks, and of street races.

Interspersed with them are obviously personal photos of Caucasian and African-American metahumans: at a bar, in front of a fountain, working on a car, and so on.
A young man who must be Ambrose appears in a few of them, but no other person is repeated in the photographs.

Young Ambrose doesn't appear in any of the pictures with recognizable landmarks.
Most of the big pictures are of old Chicago or classic motorhead Americana: twentieth-century gas stations. Desert highways. Devil's Tower. Motorcycle gangs.
Closer inspection reveals a section full of personal photos, recording what may have been Ambrose's trip from Chicago, through the western UCAS, the Sioux Nation, and the Salish-Shidhe Council, to Seattle.
There's even a photo of the ruins of Grand Coulee Dam.

Once, it was the largest power station in the old USA. Now, it's breached. The Columbia River roars through its jagged concrete throat, wild and cataclysmic.
{{CC}}Intelligence: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Medium){{/CC}} {{GM}}Look more closely at the personal photos.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Return your attention to the room.{{/GM}}
The tint and color saturation changes slightly from image to image. Some photos have dust on the lens; others do not. Another has a clear fleck of grit.

This would be consistent with photos coming from multiple different cameras.
Conspicuous timestamps place all the photos within a two-month period, fourteen years ago. The timestamps all have a consistent format.

In the background of one picture, the distant Rocky Mountains have a heavy load of snow, yet in another they are bare.
A sense of warmth immediately washes over you. The clinic overflows with a sense of connection and belonging.

Ephemeral astral cords snake through it, coming off Ambrose and streaming out through the doorway, probably to other residents of Heoi.
Many of the pictures and mementos have gone gray, as if they hold no meaning for anyone. Strangely, it is the ones from Chicago and the trip across North America that have faded. Usually, the artifacts that people keep from their deep past are vibrant with emotion and meaning.

In contrast, the pictures of people in Heoi glow with feeling.
The picture of Ambrose's old runner comrade, Karen, shines brightly - it's almost incandescent. A gleaming cord of connection runs between it and Ambrose.

The picture of the young man and the Mustang blazes like star. Ambrose's cording to it is far more intense than is usual between someone and a picture from their youth.
The operating table is swathed in a halo of warm feelings and pleasantness, as if much healing has occurred here.

Mild toxicity also swirls around it, typical for a street clinic installing combat 'ware: bitter feelings of lost humanity, revenge, ambition, and folly.
There are occasional surges of something darker. It feels... bloody. Dirty. It's similar to how it felt in the mahjong parlor, when Kindly was interrogating the undercover HKPF officer.
{{GM}}Keep perceiving.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Withdraw from the astral.{{/GM}}
Beneath the warm halo and the toxicity, there's something subtle... and very, very painful. It's almost invisible, but subtly etched into the deep astral.

In that scar, the sense of sadness and longing is so intense it's almost nauseating.
Ambrose himself glows, his disfigured meridians running with light. His head is covered in tangled astral mucous, and cluttered with cyberware, but his eyes glow bright and clear. His heart pulses with scintillating light.
Beneath his heart, his solar plexus is a sickening black hole. The feeling that comes from it is chilling. Self-hatred. Guilt. It's... bottomless.
The mess of notes, mementos, photos, and paperwork on the wall behind the computer reflects the daily work of Ambrose's life - and hints at the story he's told you.

A framed photo shows what must be Ambrose as a young man, back in his Chicago days, standing proudly in front of a vintage Ford Mustang.
{{GM}}Examine the picture of Ambrose and the Mustang.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Look away from the wall.{{/GM}}
It looks like a young Ambrose. It's hard to tell for sure, with all his scarring and cosmetic reconstruction now. The young man definitely has Ambrose's big, cheesy grin.

He can't be more than twenty-five years old, but already he has a thick handlebar mustache.
{{CC}}Drone Control: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Hard){{/CC}} {{GM}}Look closely at the Mustang.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Biotech: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Medium){{/CC}} {{GM}}Scrutinize young Ambrose.{{/GM}}
It's a 2021 Ford Mustang, meticulously refurbished.
Scrutinizing the car closely, you just see part of the brake assembly through one of the wheels. The shape is distinct: Cenova 770s. Good high-performance brakes.

The 770 line was first produced in 2048... about eight years ago.
Something is anomalous. It's very subtle... so slight you can't be certain of what you're seeing.

Only a keen medical eye would detect it.
The facial features of the man in the photograph have been moved in inconsistent directions, relative to Ambrose's facial reconstruction.
The angles between his ears, nose, and eyes have changed too much.

As badly injured as Ambrose was, it would be very unusual for his features to have shifted in this way.
Dr. Hardingham's Door Code
>23847
A series of of holographic components spring from this data archive, linked by relational vectors.
{{GM}}Financial Records on Walled City Project{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Glowing bluish-white letters crystallize above the tangled network.{{/GM}}

Document Cluster A201-WCP-003-Secure.11/Final

WALLED CITY LOW INCOME HOUSING PROJECT
FINANCIAL RECORDS AND REPORTING - FINAL
_______________________________________
MATERIAL CLASS 11 - GRANTED ACCESS ONLY
{{GM}}Access the executive summary.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Scan through the files.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Download the file and disconnect.{{/GM}}
The executive summary describes the finances of the Walled City construction contract.

Tsang Mechanical Services received about ¥950 million from other corporations, via the Executive Council. It then spent this money to build the Walled City.
{{GM}}Most is a dense description of cost targets, metrics, financial analysis, and accounting methods. However, a short section of the final paragraph stands out.{{/GM}}

...achieved 35% diversion of funds, while maintaining workmanship at generally acceptable levels. Severe downward cost pressures, large finance risk, and information control presented major challenges in executing a financial strategy for the WCLIHP.
The co-construction of two concurrent initiatives (WCLIHP, PROSPERITY) presented a major financial as well as operational challenge. Such large funding diversions are difficult to adequately obfuscate.

The author again wishes to note that the WCLIHP official records, in their current form, still may not withstand scrutiny during the post-project audit by the Executive Council. Deep revision ex post facto is advised.
The language of these documents is an opaque fog of finance and accounting. Without special training, it is incomprehensible. The associated visuals are a tangle of pie charts and dynamic graphs with data layers like "Pre-Adjustment Accruals," "Taxable Share," "Payroll Allocations," and "Depreciation Flow."

Most are uninteresting or esoteric. However, three options stand out.
{{GM}}Master Cash Flow.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Utilities and Excavation.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Funds Reallocation Substructure.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Close the files.{{/GM}}
A layer of luminous green lines appear, flowing through the system chart. They appear to be budgets and fund reservoirs, coded for various purposes. The green lines are divided into two sections. Each has glowing white text beneath.
{{GM}}Read the text beneath Section One.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read the text beneath Section Two.{{/GM}}
PROJECT RECEIVABLES: ¥943,410,184
FUNDS REALLOCATION: ¥609,480,194
_____________________________________
DIVERSION PERCENTAGE: 35.4%
{{GM}}This is an enormous scrolling list of Walled City construction expenses. Next to each is a single word.{{/GM}}

REDACTED
A dense network of tiny nodes and branching lines appears inside the system chart. It seems to be a granular mapping of all utility-related allocations, expenditures, and assets.
{{GM}}An organizational hierarchy forms beside the system chart, listing upper management of the utilities component. At the top, you see a familiar name.{{/GM}}

Edward Tsang, Vice President of Special Projects.
{{GM}}Directly beneath him are two subordinates.{{/GM}}

Cameron Yu, Construction Engineer, Excavation and Utilities.

{{GM}}Under Cameron Yu, a full organizational chart fans out dozens of names and positions.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The name of the second subordinate is missing. In its place is a single word.{{/GM}}

REDACTED

{{GM}}Under the second subordinate, a much larger organizational chart appears, with hundreds of nodes. In this second chart, however, the same word accompanies every node.{{/GM}}

REDACTED
{{GM}}Thin threads of yellow light spring from numerous nodes in the huge system chart and begin flowing through others.

The yellow threads snake down below, bouncing through a series of nodes and changing colors, until they converge into a single brilliant point. An incandescent white word appears beside it.{{/GM}}

PROSPERITY
{{GM}}Access the PROSPERITY node.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Etiquette: Corporate{{/CC}} {{GM}}Interpret the multicolored nodes.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Close "Funds Reallocation Substructure."{{/GM}}
NO FILE EXISTS AT THIS LOCATION.
All labels have been redacted from the tangle of multicolored nodes, but the structure and the color changes are consistent with a money-laundering system.
After a moment, you are returned to the file menu.
After a moment, you are returned to the main menu.
A code to a room in Tsang the Thaumaturgical Lab
>6220
Magic Resistance
Passive: The adept gains a Medium Cover bonus to magic spells.
Modified for the streets. Is0bel's memories have unlocked a superior basic attack. Adds 5s when hacking Blocker IC.
Ares Alpha (Smartlink)
Rifle: Ares' top-of-the-line assault rifle with bullpup design, built-in recoil compensation, and an integral Smartlink system.
Force 6 Nature Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 6 Nature Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Acrid Spit III
A vile spitting attack that does 16 HP DMG and 1 AP DMG.
Force 1 Water Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 1 Water Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
+2 Dmg. Vampire strength makes the basic attack more deadly.
Prototype Combat Suit
An armored ensemble developed for black-ops commandos. Grants +1 to all attributes.
Emperor's Sword
Melee: An ancient sword, etched with Chinese seal script. May do AP DMG on a critical hit.
Force 3 Nature Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 3 Nature Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Acrid Spit II
A vile spitting attack that does 14 HP DMG and 1 AP DMG.
Despite the darkness, you see something glitter at the edge of the drain. Looking closer, it appears to be a necklace chain of some kind. It's become caught in the drain's grate, narrowly avoiding falling down the deep pit.
{{GM}}Take the necklace.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Leave it alone.{{/GM}}
Lifting the necklace out of the drain, you turn it over in your hand. It's a simple silver pendant on a chain. The silver pendant depicts a long-tailed bird in flight: a magpie.
These tires have been set aflame and have been burning for some time. The smell is awful.
{{GM}}Pour the bucket of sand onto the flames.{{/GM}}
The flames are stifled beneath the dirty sand and soil from the bucket.
Decker Wired
2 attacks with less chance for a critical. May hit adjacent characters. Uses 6 bullets.
Increases accuracy by 10%. Shares a cooldown with other Aim attack abilities.
Scorpion Totem
The Scorpion grants all allies within 3 tiles DMG +4, but reduces accuracy by -10%. Lasts 3 RNDS.
Scorpion: DMG +4, Accuracy -10%
The tribal uniform of the urban Shaman.
Modified for the streets. Is0bel's memories have unlocked a superior basic attack. Adds 10s when hacking Blocker IC.
{{GM}}Ishida lies on the cold tile, gasping for breath. His armor is rent and tattered, but his eyes still burn with rage. He spits at Gaichu as you approach.{{/GM}}

Gaichu! Honorless cur! I regret the day I ever began teaching you.

You're truly depraved to kill your own brothers, rather than submit to what is right.
Gaichu. Yes. That is my name, as everything of my old life has been taken from me.

{{GM}}Gaichu lifts the tip of his sword, placing it squarely on Ishida's chest.{{/GM}}

What is honor, if it is built on a lie? What is duty, if the dogma behind it is corrupt?
{{GM}}Narrowing his eyes, the Red Samurai presses his chest upwards into the blade so that it begins to gouge his armor.{{/GM}}

What do you know of it, vermin? Every Red Samurai who has become...subhuman...has taken their life. Every one but you!

You're a disgrace to the order, and a disgrace to your people!
You've been blinded by indoctrination, Ishida.
Right or wrong, he's the one that's going to walk away from this.
Big words, coming from a fascist.
{{GM}}Gaichu bears his teeth in a wicked grin.{{/GM}}

For years, you were taught that to be pure was to be powerful. That metahumans, the infected, and the deformed were to be scorned for their weakness. Yet here I stand, and there you lie.

Broken.
You think a victory over Sasaki, Takagawa and me makes you superior? Hah!

{{GM}}Ishida's mouth twists into a cruel, sorrowful smile.{{/GM}}

You'll spend the rest of your useless days cowering in the darkness, eating the flesh of your betters. You're no better than an animal, skilled though you may be.
{{GM}}Snarling in fury, Gaichu hurls his katana to the floor. He reaches out to grab Ishida by his collar, yanking him up so that their faces are only an inch apart.{{/GM}}

You said the Red Samurai were the *best.* The strongest. The most capable. Those who were nonhuman were unworthy of consideration! You told me that I would be better for having joined you!
But it's a lie. I was infected, and I became *better* than I was! Your own blindness allowed me to escape - blind to my skill, and blind to the power of the 'impure'.

{{GM}}Gaichu lifts one hand, claws glittering in the pale warehouse light. His fingers splay out like an array of knives.{{/GM}}

I was not superior because I was Red Samurai. I was Red Samurai because I was superior. *I* choose my own fate. *I* make my own destiny.
{{GM}}The ghoul draws his hand back, jagged shark's teeth bared as he presses them to Ishida's ear.{{/GM}}

I will show you the strength of my disease, Ishida. I will make you like me, and you will be cast out, just as I was. I survived and remained intelligent because I have the will to do so. Can you say as much?
I don't know about this...
Reap what you sow, Ishida.
{{GM}}Ishida's head falls back as he laughs, but the laughter turns to bloody coughing.{{/GM}}

You think I'll let you infect me, monster? I'll do what you were too weak to. I'll take my own life, like the 47 ronin of old.

Such a foolish boy.
Foolish? You underestimate me, old man.

{{GM}}Gaichu drops Ishida, his head bouncing off the tiled floor with a sharp crack.{{/GM}}

After I cripple your arms, you will have no means to kill yourself. The disease will burn through you like a fire, consuming every inch of your humanity.
{{GM}}At this, Ishida stiffens. His eyes go cold with resolution.{{/GM}}

Then we shall see, Gaichu. And if you are wrong, I shall meet you again in my next life, and try to teach you to do better.
Hold on, Gaichu. That isn't right.
Give him his due. Make him suffer.
Do what you will. This is between the two of you.
{{GM}}Gaichu whirls to face you, snarling.{{/GM}}

What do you know of it, $(l.name)?! Do you know what it is to be hunted at every turn? Treated like an animal and despised by all who see you?

I could have stayed with the unit! I could have been the best of them!
Listen to yourself. You're out of control.
And if you do this to him, you'll be no better than he is.
I am nothing like--!

{{GM}}Gaichu stops as Ishida begins laughing. Slowly, the ghoul lowers his clawed hand and takes a deep, heavy breath.{{/GM}}

This... This is beyond revenge, isn't it?
Kill him cleanly. Show him you're still a man.
Actually, to hell with it. Infect him and leave him.
Am I, though? Am I really a man? I have gained my newfound strengths by embracing my nature. Why should tonight be any different?

Why not show him exactly who and what I am?
Because down that path lies the life of a feral ghoul, not a ronin.
You remain a man because you have a code. Stick to it, or lose yourself.
Cruelty in pursuit of vengeance is beneath you. You're better than this.
{{GM}}Considering this for a long, quiet moment, Gaichu nods. He bends and picks up his sword.{{/GM}}

These are more incisive words than I expected to hear. Thank you. I am unsure if I deserve counsel as wise as yours, but... I will take it.
{{GM}}Gaichu turns back to Ishida, and bows a shallowly - but not insultingly so.{{/GM}}

I regret our friendship ends like this, Ishida. You taught me well, and you ran a fine unit. Perhaps in the next life, we can be comrades once more.

Until then... Goodbye.
With that, Gaichu's sword flashes out, an arc of shining moonlight. As it passes Ishida's throat, a red fountain splashes into the still night air. Ishida grits his teeth, slumping slowly to the floor. In the following seconds the light dims from his eyes, and he expires without a sound.

Gaichu regards his corpse for several heartbeats, and then his sword flashes back into its saya.
We are done here, $(l.name). I am free.

Let us go home.
{{GM}}Gaichu nods to you, turning back to Ishida.{{/GM}}

Come. I will show you your own inner weakness.
The sounds that follow are viscerally, intensely horrifying. The crunch of bone mates with the sound of wet flesh tearing under the pressure of jagged ghoul teeth, and as a high counterpoint comes Ishida's screaming of horror and pain - and undoubtedly some measure of the terror of what Gaichu is doing to him.

Eventually, Ishida passes out. Gaichu rises, wiping copious amounts of blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.
It is accomplished.

He is unconscious, but he will live. Let us be done with this.
Class C Drone Mortar
Servo Tuning
Racter manually tunes Koschei's servos, increasing Koschei's Quickness and Strength for 1 RND.
Tuned Servos: Quickness +1, Strength +1
Mummy Spirit Talisman
Summons the spirit of a long dead sorcerer. The fetish is consumed when used.
Force 5 Nature Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 5 Nature Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
As you burst through the door, you find yourself standing face to face with a small, heavily tattooed man.

Geometric shapes of all descriptions trace their way from his temples down his cheeks and neck to his shoulders. His eyes continue the motif: each of his irises is a slanted rectangle.
{{GM}}Rhombus looks at Is0bel and sighs. If he's surprised to see her, he doesn't show it.{{/GM}}

You finally want 'em back, huh? The memories that we locked away.

I always knew that you would one day. But you got so hostile after the procedure, I didn't think you'd come around this soon.
{{GM}}Is0bel glowers at him, her cheeks darkening.{{/GM}}

Oh, get bent, Rhombus. I got hostile with you because you got hostile with me.
Like hell I did. I tried to give you some *advice.* As a *friend.*

If memory serves, you called me a "patronizing bastard" and slagged my deck. Was I just supposed to take that without punching back?!
Whoa, Is0bel... you slagged his de--
From what she tells me, you wer--
Hang on a seco--
{{GM}}Is0bel cuts in, her normally small voice growing raucous.{{/GM}}

I called you a patronizing bastard because *that's what you were being.* You wouldn't have taken that tone if I were a guy, or an ork, or a troll. You talked down to me like I was your little sister, or something.

Well, guess what? I'M NOT!
Whoa, hold up. I *talked that way* to you because--
{{GM}}She shouts over him, cutting him short.{{/GM}}

Also: "punch back"? That's a funny way of putting it. You TAILORED AN ESP to TROLL ALL OF MY POSTS ON SHADOWLAND! What kind of PRICK would do a thing like that?
{{GM}}His face goes beet-red, and his chest puffs out.{{/GM}}

The kind whose cat you had killed, you little monster!

Captain Whiskers was just a *house cat!* He didn't have anything to do with this!
{{GM}}She rears back in indignation.{{/GM}}

That wasn't me, I would never hurt a cat!

If I were going to have someone killed, it would have been you!
Please, keep going. This is good fun.
Pipe down, both of you. We're going to hash this out together.
You two sound like bickering teenagers. Actually, check that - you *are* bickering teenagers.
Both of you SHUT! UP!
You're the muscle, I take it. You and your jarhead friend over there.

{{GM}}He nods at Duncan.{{/GM}}

She brought you along to beat the information out of me, huh?
It's just a job. Nothing personal.
{{GM}}He scoffs at Is0bel. Wrinkles his nose in disgust.{{/GM}}

Typical.
Yeah, that's right, I'm the muscle. So shut your mouth until I tell you to speak, or you're gonna have problems. Got it?
I'm just a $(s.man) with a job. And Is0bel tells me that you have something that can help me do it.
Calm down. I'm not going to beat you up unless you force me to.
Lemme ask you something. How many people did you kill to get to me? I mean, what kind of death toll are we looking at, here?

I'm assuming that the gunshots in the hall were your doing.
That wasn't my choice. It was just how things went down.
Yeah, that's right. And if you don't play your cards right, another gunshot could be right around the corner.
No, of course not. That had nothing to do with us.
Yeah. Sure.

{{GM}}His eyes dart from side to side. Then he starts screaming.{{/GM}}

HELP! SECURITY! SOMEBODY! HEELLLLLPPP!
They can't hear you, Rhom. Know why? Because we killed them.

Now give me my goddamned key.
Rhombus doesn't respond, other than to increase the pitch of his screaming. He looks like he's on the verge of hyperventilating.
{{GM}}She glances back at you.{{/GM}}

To hell with this. Let's hit him like a piñata until software comes out.

Sound like a plan?
I don't think that any of this is even necessary. You're both behaving like children.
I'd prefer to take a lighter touch. This guy is terrified, just look at him.
That's the smartest thing you've said all day.
Sure, what the hell. This guy is a pain in the ass anyway.
{{GM}}She blinks.{{/GM}}

...What?
{{CC}}Decking: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Medium){{/CC}} I've heard variants of this same argument *so many* times in the Matrix. I'll bet you can't even remember what this stupid feud started over.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Hard){{/CC}} From what I've heard, your argument started over basically nothing. You've both blown this way out of proportion.
I don't have the time to work out your personal problems. Rhombus, please give Is0bel the software so we can be on our way.
Y'know what, forget it. Let's just beat the information out of him. That was the plan, right?
{{GM}}Rhombus' eyes screw shut in concentration.{{/GM}}

I know that I was trying to do her a favor. I don't remember what the advice I was trying to give her was about, though.

I think... uh... maybe I was telling her what kind of RAM to pick up for a deck? Something like that.
I don't know what you're--
Yes, you do! This *whole* thing started over me trying to do you a *favor!*

I don't even remember what the advice I was trying to give you was *about.* I think... uh... maybe I was telling you what kind of RAM to pick up for a deck? Something like that?
Yeah... I think that was it. But you were a real dick about it.

{{GM}}She stares up at him, fuming.{{/GM}}

And the argument was nothing. It was what you did *after* the argument that was unforgivable.
Right. Good of you to remember.
{{GM}}He nods vigorously, wide-eyed.{{/GM}}

I'll give her what she wants! I'll give her everything!
There? See, he's reasonable. I'm willing to bet that this whole thing was just a misunderstanding.
Good. Now put your money where your mouth is and give us the software.
{{GM}}He keys in a series of rapid commands on his PDA, then turns to Is0bel, sobbing.{{/GM}}

There. Just check your inbox. You have it! Now for the sake of whatever friendship we might have had, please... let me go!
Is0bel examines her PDA, frowning.

A few seconds later, the frown turns into a smile. She nods at you.
He wasn't lying. I've got the encryption key.

Let's stuff him in a closet and go home.
Encryption key? I thought you said that he had software that you needed.
Um. Technically, I have it.

{{GM}}She taps her temple.{{/GM}}

Up here, in headware storage. But I can't access it without the key. And thanks to Rhombus here, now I've got it.
Is0bel... what was this really about?
Hey, that's great. Now can we stuff this fool in a closet and get out of here? The alarms are still going off.
Recovering my old memories. The ones about the Walled City.

I still have them, but I can't get at them. Rhombus did that after I moved here--
At your request, you little psycho! You begged me to do it!
That's actually true. We were friends then.

{{GM}}She looks down at Rhombus, who lies whimpering on the floor.{{/GM}}

Now, we're not. And that's why you're getting stuffed in a closet.
You set upon the grim task of shoving a protesting Rhombus into his own room closet and latching the door.

You manage to get him inside without having to break any bones. He'll probably have bruises tomorrow, though.
C'mon, $(l.name). We got what we came for.

Let's go ho--
Suddenly, an explosion of sound fills your ears.

Heavy footfalls advancing down the hall. You hear shouting, the crackle of radios. The HKPF.
Oh, that son of a bitch. Rhom must've called the cops... he's probably got a PanicButton, or something.

{{GM}}She casts a hateful glare at the closet door, then draws her slivergun.{{/GM}}

Get ready, $(l.name). We've got company.
Yes. That's a good idea.

Hold still, Rhombus. This might hurt.
Not as much as those memories are going to hurt you, Izz.

{{GM}}He sounds sad.{{/GM}}

We locked them away for a reason. And as much as I might dislike you now, I don't want to see you live through that again.
You won't see it.

You'll be in a closet.
{{GM}}Rhombus begins to back away, his eyes wide with terror.{{/GM}}

No... no! You keep away! I can do things to you in the Matrix! I... I can drain your bank accounts, slander you, publish your intimate details!

Stay back! Please!
You go to work.

It doesn't take long before he cracks.
I'll give her what she wants! I'll give her everything!

{{GM}}He keys in a series of rapid commands on his PDA, then turns to Is0bel, sobbing.{{/GM}}

There. Just check your inbox. You have it! Now for the sake of whatever friendship we might have had, please... let me go!
Yeah. I've got you.

{{GM}}His eyes dart from side to side. Then he starts screaming.{{/GM}}

HELP! SECURITY! SOMEBODY! HEELLLLLPPP!
I can't believe that this is happening to me. All over me trying to do you a favor.

{{GM}}He shakes his head at Is0bel.{{/GM}}

That'll teach me to try to give a friend some advice, I guess.
{{GM}}Hit him.{{/GM}} If you're gonna keep whining like that, I'll give you something to whine about.
That's the second time you've said that. This whole feud started over your trying to give Is0bel advice?
Oh, boo hoo. Your unsolicited advice wasn't appreciated. I'll cry you a river.
Your fist smashes into Rhombus' nose, flattening it. He reels back, clutching his wounded face.

After a few seconds, he rocks back forward. He starts screaming.
HELP! SECURITY! SOMEBODY! HEELLLLLPPP!
Yes! I don't even remember what we were *talking* about!

I think... uh... maybe I was telling her what kind of RAM to pick up for a deck? Something like that? It was a long time ago.
It wasn't what you said, Rhombus. It was how you said it.

{{GM}}She stares up at him, fuming.{{/GM}}

And the argument was nothing. It was what you did *after* the argument that was unforgivable.
Taking the moral high ground isn't going to work for you here.

*You* attacked *me* first, and for *no* reason.
{{GM}}Advance on Rhombus.{{/GM}} The hell with this. I'm here for the software you're holding, not to reconcile your lost friendship.
Okay. From what I'm getting here, you both hate each other. But you were friends, right?
Once. I guess.
You guess? You let me perform amateur brain surgery on you! Hell, you *begged* me to!

We were friends, Is0bel. *Good* friends. And then you went and messed it all up.
Both of you shut up. I get what's happening here - this is an argument about nothing that spun out of control.
Amateur brain surgery? Please explain what that means. What the hell has this been about?
You don't know any--
$+(l.he)'s right, Izz. That's exactly what this is.

Look, you want the encryption key for the memories that we locked away? It's yours.

I don't envy you the pain that you'll feel when you unlock them, but that's your decision to make.
Wait a second. That's the software that we're here to find? An encryption key?
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

Yes. I had Rhombus move the memories of my childhood into headware storage.

That's why I couldn't give you any details about the Walled City - I didn't have access to them.
He keys a series of buttons in on his PDA.

Is0bel's PDA buzzes a moment later.
There. Check your inbox. You've got the key.

Do with it what you will. I was holding onto it for you, anyway.
{{GM}}Is0bel blinks confusedly.{{/GM}}

But I... I thought that we were enemies now.
We were. But there was no reason for us to be.

Just take the key and go. Have a nice life.

{{GM}}He waves her off. He looks exhausted.{{/GM}}
There. See how easy that was?
Is0bel stares at Rhombus, a neutral expression on her face.

Finally, she speaks up.
I'm sorry, Rhombus. I don't know how things got as bad as they did, but... sorry.

{{GM}}Her voice goes solemn.{{/GM}}

I'm going to find out what happened to Captain Whiskers. I promise you that.
That'd be nice of you, Izz. I'd appreciate it.

{{GM}}Almost bashfully, his gaze flits to the ground. He looks away, and color surges to his cheeks.{{/GM}}

Oh, and Izz... I've, uh... I've got something of an admission to make.
{{GM}}She rolls her eyes.{{/GM}}

Look, I *get it,* Rhom. You've always liked me. I hate to break it to you, but it was never that big of a secret.

And I *know* that's why you--
{{GM}}His eyes go wide. He raises his hands, palms out, and shakes his head.{{/GM}}

What? No, Izz - no, that's not it at all. I mean, you're a nice girl, and all, but... just... *no.*
{{GM}}Color rushes to her cheeks.{{/GM}}

But then, what--
My PanicButton.

{{GM}}He flips his sleeve inside out, and you can see a blinking red LED embedded in the fabric.{{/GM}}

I tripped it when you broke in. The cops are on their way. But wait, don't freak out - I'll call them off for you.
Oh.

{{GM}}She shuffles her feet. Looks away.{{/GM}}

Um. Thanks.
Hey, what are friends for? You just wait here, I'll go meet them in the hall and draw them off to another room. Shouldn't take two seconds.

Oh, and Izz... it was nice catching up with you. Good luck with the whole memory thing - you're gonna need it.
She nods mutely.
Rhombus takes off at a run, then disappears down the hall.
My memories. The ones about my childhood... the ones that I'd lost.

They aren't gone. They're in headware storage, locked away behind an encryption key. I've got them, but I can't see them without it.
That was your idea, Izz. Keeping them, I mean.

You told me to hold onto the key for you, just in case you ever needed them back.
I *know,* Rhombus. But after everything that had happened, I couldn't just ask you to--
You want the encryption key for the memories that we locked away? It's yours.

I don't envy you the pain that you'll feel when you unlock them, but they belong to you.
It wasn't even like that! I wasn't telling her what to do with her life, I just wanted to tell her what RAM to pick up for a new deck!

I mean, it might not have exactly been that, but it was *trivial!* She's the one who took it personal!
{{GM}}Is0bel blinks up at you.{{/GM}}

But I want you to--
You're the muscle, I take it. You and your pal in the costume.
Why does everyone in this ridiculous gathering think that I am wearing a costume?

{{GM}}His lips part into a bloody grimace. Rhombus sees the gore on his teeth and takes a half step back.{{/GM}}
Holy shit. You're really a ghoul.

{{GM}}It isn't a question. His voice goes up an octave.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}He bows.{{/GM}}

Thank you. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for one of you deckers to acknowledge what I truly am.
And she... ah... brought you along to... to beat the information out of me, is that right?
No. I will not beat you.

If you fail to cooperate, I will eat your fingers.
Rhombus swallows. Hard. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out.
Calm down. I won't let him hurt you unless you force me to.
Look, you've got something we need, and we're going to get it from you. Period.
{{GM}}Is0bel blinks up at you.{{/GM}}

But I *want* you to hurt him. I mean, I don't want to see him get his limbs torn off, or anything--
Racter purses his lips. Koschei scuttles back to his side.
...But a solid thrashing, sure.
Gaichu lets out a small sigh.
You're the muscle, I take it. You and your friend and his *really impressive* drone.
Thank you.

{{GM}}Koschei scuttles forward menacingly, its claws weaving in the air. Racter smiles.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}His voice goes up an octave, and he points a trembling finger at Is0bel.{{/GM}}

She... ah... brought you along to... to beat the information out of me, didn't she?
"Beat" isn't the word that I'd use. Koschei is better equipped for ripping and tearing.

{{GM}}He gives the Whampoan an encouraging nod.{{/GM}}

A good thought, though! You have a firm grasp of the situation.
Rhombus swallows. Hard. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out.

His eyes are locked on the drone that's slowly scuttling toward him.
You're the muscle, I take it. You and your friend.

{{GM}}He nods at Gobbet.{{/GM}}

She brought you along to beat the information out of me, didn't she? Typical.
You're the muscle, I take it. She brought you along to beat the information out of me, didn't she?

{{GM}}The guy is terrified, but he's doing his best to hide it. His best isn't very good.{{/GM}}

Typical.
There is a moment of stunned silence.

Then Rhombus licks his lips and speaks.
Blood Bolt
Blood magic, practiced by the mages employed by Aztechnology.
Force 2 Nature Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 2 Nature Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
As the Elders fall to the floor, you stop and survey the carnage around you.

No one is left to tell the story of what happened here. Gaichu is as dead as the Whampoans. Blood and gore litter the Whampoa. The only thing to do now is to return home, and hope someone will pick up where the Elders left off, and wire you your payment.
As the ghoul falls to the floor, you stop and survey the carnage around you.

No one is left to tell the story of what happened here. Blood and gore litter the Whampoa. The only thing to do now is to return home, and hope someone will pick up where the Elders left off, and wire you your payment.
As the ghoul falls to the floor, you stop and survey the carnage around you.
So ends the terror of Whampoa Garden. After all that blood and death, it's finally over...

Thank you. Thank you for your service. I will ensure your payment is wired to your account, and
As the elders fall to the floor, you stop and survey the carnage around you.
It is accomplished. No more betrayers alive. No more worry that others may think they can take advantage of me.

Lead the way. I look forward to our new business partnership.
Guardian Mk. 2
From Ares, this is one of the best combat hoverdrones on the market. Comes with a powerful semi-auto turret.
This computer appears to be for monitoring and controlling ship systems: power routing, alarm systems, and bilge pumps. Like everything else on the Nalchi, it's an obsolete piece of junk that doesn't even have a VR interface - just a touchscreen and keyboard.
Hey, you know what? I bet we could screw with the guards down here using this computer. Draw them away to a different deck or something.
Hmm. If this controls ship systems, maybe we could draw the guards away to a different deck by triggering a false alarm.
{{GM}}Investigate the power routing system.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Investigate the alarm systems.{{/GM}}
The power routing system appears to be connected only to some low-level ship functions: sewage control, HVAC, and backup battery control.

It doesn't look like there's much you can do with those.
This alarm system doesn't seem connected with the actual security alarms. It appears to be primarily a voltage and short-out protection system that engages if there's a power overload somewhere on the ship.

A few tweaks, and you could probably fake a voltage overload elsewhere on the ship.
{{GM}}Fake an alarm.{{/GM}}
After a few adjustments, you set off a system test alarm on C Deck. It won't fool anyone for long, but they'll have to go to C Deck to make sure it's not a real alarm.
This alarm system doesn't seem connected with the actual security alarms. It appears to be primarily a voltage and short-out protection system that engages if there's a power overload somewhere on the ship.

It looks like the shipwide alert has locked this system down. There's nothing you can do with this at the moment.
What are you doing here? We didn't call for maintenance.
Maintenance doesn't have to be called to maintain the building. It's my job. This will only take a moment.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(scene.alarmCharismaValue_Hard){{/CC}} Heard you needed a level-five tune-up. We finally got all the parts in, but there are other departments on the waiting list. We can skip you for now, but I'll have to put this station back on the bottom of the list...
Sassy, aren't ya? Still can't let you through without the pass phrase.
I was told I don't need one for a routine fix.
Swordfish?
What are you talking about? There's no pass phrase.
That's *policy.* No one'd forget that. Unless... you're not who you say you are.

{{GM}}He reaches for his weapon.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}He reaches for his weapon.{{/GM}}

Nice try.
{{GM}}He reaches for his weapon.{{/GM}}

Wrong answer.
{{GM}}His back stiffens.{{/GM}}

Whoa, there's no need for that! Please, come in. If you could start with that desk in the back, we'd be awfully grateful.
Then I'll get to work. As maintenance, I'll need access to the security terminal. Should take about an hour for the full installation. Don't wait up.
Our terminal? Well... If you *have* to. But make it quick. We've got a lot of sensitive materials in there.
{{GM}}Racter leans over and whispers to you.{{/GM}}

I can't believe he fell for that. Your lie was executed with such an utter lack of conviction that he *must* be deficient...
Shut up. I'm persuasive.
He's a guard, not an engineer.
You're lucky. That's all.
Lucky for you, or we might've had ourselves a mess to clean up.
Not another step! We don't get many fresh faces around here, so you best give me a damn good reason why I shouldn't shoot you where you stand.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Security{{/CC}} Lower your gun, dipshit. I'm a rep from engineering. This entire floor failed its Knight Errant third-party security check. That means one of two things: a massive security breach, or an engineering problem. I'm here to check it out.
{{GM}}Show him your Tsang security passes.{{/GM}} Man, calm down. The Knight Errant's simply performing a routine security test. Here...
{{GM}}He begins to lower his gun, then freezes.{{/GM}}

If there'd been a failed security check, we would've been quarantined.

But if you give me the pass phrase, we'll talk. I'll run your story by Central and maybe... *maybe* I'll let you through.
I was told I wouldn't need one for a surface examination.
That's *policy.* No one'd forget that. Unless... you're not who you say you are.

{{GM}}He clicks the safety off on his gun.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}He clicks the safety off on his gun.{{/GM}}

Nice try.
{{GM}}He clicks the safety off on his gun.{{/GM}}

Wrong answer.
{{GM}}The guard carefully reads the passes from your hand, posture still alert.{{/GM}}

Not only are these passes below this floor's security level, they also expired two months ago! Guess we'll figure out who you are from what we can get off your corpse.

{{GM}}He clicks the safety off on his gun.{{/GM}}
Broker's Code
> 00006
Neville Ma's Door Code
>1635
A large man in his fifties stands waiting, his heavily tattooed arms held in a fighter's stance. His bone structure is heavy. Corded muscle stands out on his arms and chest. In his youth, he must have been enormous.
{{GM}}He doesn't talk so much as emit. A low rumble.{{/GM}}

Okay, killer. You have my attention.
{{GM}}His voice comes out in a growl.{{/GM}}

No more games. No more dead soldiers. Why are you here, and why did you leave me alive?
{{GM}}Hold out the data stick.{{/GM}} Auntie Cheng told me not to kill you. Just make sure you slot this in your trid.
{{GM}}Hold out the data stick.{{/GM}} Slot this. Now. Cheng's orders.
{{GM}}He doesn't talk so much as emit. A low rumble.{{/GM}}

I don't know how you got in here, but you've got my attention.
Good. I have a message. From Kindly Cheng.
Candygram for Strangler Bao. Much love, Kindly Cheng.
You're a hard man to find. Can you guess who sent me with a message?
A message from Cheng? I can't wait to hear you mangle it.

{{GM}}He chuckles to himself.{{/GM}}

You speak Cantonese so well. But before I hear it, I have a little message for her, too.
You tell Kindly Cheng that her operations are done in the Walled City. Strangler Bao has given himself a promotion.

And tell her that if she sends any more errand boys to visit him with *another* message, Strangler Bao is going to send him back in a box.
You think you can tell her that, errand boy? Should I write it down for you in English?
{{GM}}Hold out the data stick.{{/GM}} Just slot the stick, listen to the message, and I'll be gone. Okay?
Aw, c'mon, Strangler! Can I call you Strangler? We just want to hang out. Play some video games. Do triad stuff.
I'm pretty sure she'll react negatively to that. Why don't I just say I left her message on your remains?
I don't get to hear you butcher the message? I'm sad.

{{GM}}He grabs the small plastic drive from your hand. Slots it into his trid player.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng stands erect. Speaks directly to the camera.{{/GM}}

Mr. Bao.

As everyone knows, you are a man of swift action.

I respect that. And because of that respect, I will get right to the point.
I know where your money is coming from.

I know that you have friends working for Straw Sandals like myself. They have been siphoning funds from their organizations.

I know about the noodle shop that you launder the money through. I have tasted their broth and found it wanting.
{{GM}}The old woman becomes flinty hard.{{/GM}}

You have been stealing from the Yellow Lotus - glorifying yourself with revenue that *we* have earned.

And I have files to prove it.
Bao's eyes widen as files begin to flit across the screen. Receipts. Bank reports. Personal communications between himself and his men.

Kindly Cheng continues speaking. Smooth and casual.
Now... in light of our recent conflict, you might be wondering why I am keeping this information to myself. Why I haven't exposed you so you could be dragged from your "Lotus Den" by the balls and slowly roasted on a rotisserie spit.
In truth, I respect your ambition. You have a lot to learn about candor - and loyalty - but I believe that you still have value.

I am still willing to work with you.

*However,* in order for that to happen, we need to come to an understanding about the nature of our partnership.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng steps forward. Fills the screen.{{/GM}}

I own you, Bao.

You and all of your men. You are my *fucking playthings* - dolls to twist and pose as I see fit. I am in this position because I am far better at this than you, and it's time that you *learned* it.

Accept what I am telling you and we can get back to business. Prosper together.
But if you continue your little rebellion, I will mail tiny pieces of you to your children and take their picture as they open the package.
{{GM}}She produces one of her thin black cigars. Lights it. Holds the smoke a long time.{{/GM}}

You have twenty-four hours to return to the fold. If you aren't here licking my heels by then, the information will be released and you will become food for fish.

Your choice, Bao. Twenty-four hours.
The message winks out. Strangler Bao turns away from the screen slowly. His skin is ashen.
Get out.
{{GM}}He pauses. Casts his eyes to the floor.{{/GM}}

...And tell Mrs. Cheng to expect me at Swift Winds tomorrow.

{{GM}}He stands up straight.{{/GM}}

Tomorrow morning.
I will. Thank you for your time.
I'll let her know.
It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Bao.
Go. Just... just go.
Strangler Bao reaches for his PDA. Taps a button on the side.

Only a second later, you hear the sound of a door opening and footsteps running towards your position.
{{GM}}Strangler Bao grins a sharklike grin.{{/GM}}

You want to play? Let's play.
You tell Kindly Cheng that her operations are done in the Walled City. Strangler Bao has given himself a promotion.

And tell her that if she sends any more errand girls to visit him with *another* message, Strangler Bao is going to send her back in a box.
You think you can tell her that, errand girl? Should I write it down for you in English?
You're funny.

{{GM}}His eyes get a stony look.{{/GM}}

I don't do funny.
So you have some sort of message from Cheng? I can't wait to hear you mangle it. You speak Cantonese so well.

{{GM}}He chuckles to himself.{{/GM}}

But before I hear it, I have a little message for her, too.
You're a foreigner, and you know my name. Must have been Cheng - she's the only player in Heoi who'd work with such shoddy tools.
So you have a message from the old lady, huh? I can't wait to hear you mangle it.

{{GM}}He chuckles to himself.{{/GM}}

You speak Cantonese so well. But before I hear it, I have a little message for her, too.
Fish Totem
The power of the Fish grants a personal passive benefit of -10% chance to being hit by all attacks made against the Shaman.
Two attacks in one action that increases chance of critical. Uses 5 bullets.
In the lavish lounge is focused around a single point: the fish tank. It's monolithic and extravagant.
Inside the tank you several schools of fish circling and swarming.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Academic{{/CC}}{{GM}}Take Exotic Fish.{{/GM}} I can tell that school of fish is quite rare. If we grab a few, they'd be worth a bit of nuyen.
These look fancy. I'm going to grab some. {{GM}}Take Fish{{/GM}}
Ooh I bet those taste pretty good.
Yeah. But they are also worth more alive, besides you'd probably just drown it in soy and ruin it.
You open one of the feeding ports on the side of the tank, with a deft hand. You are able to grab one of the spotted fish. Dropping it into a hydration bladder will ensure you can at least get it to market alive.
A good observation, $(l.name). Such fish fetch high prices for the discerning collector. Treat that with care.
Well unfortunately I didn't bring a to-go tank with me. So we'll have to make do.
Why would you know that?
You know that if you read books instead of putting your feet up on them, you can pick up a thing or two.
Why would someone pay so much for such a useless and fragile thing? It's is quite unique looking to be sure, but hardly worth all that money.
Good thing I'm not trying to fence it to you.
Sticking you hand in tanks with strange fish is how you get bitten.
You know you ruin everything, right Duncan?
{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

See if I keep looking out for you saying shit like that.
You open one of the feeding ports on the side of the tank. With a deft hand, you are able to grab one of the spined fish with large fins. Dropping it into a hydration bladder will ensure you can at least get it to market alive.
Force 4 Nature Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 4 Nature Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
HKPF involved in shooting near Repulse Bay... Developing... Suspect has been described as a male Ork...
Welcome to the Fa Yuen Tower Apartments
THE EXTRACTION
Is0bel has modified a taser to introduce Dreamland’s cortical inhibitor program into the Plastic-Faced Man’s neural network. That should stop his headware from completing a memory wipe and allow you to interrogate him for information about Raymond Black.

But first you’ll need to find him.

Kindly Cheng’s made contact with an underground information broker named Xiaozhi, who has managed to obtain the Plastic-Faced Man's complete itinerary. With it, you can choose the time and place to perform an extraction and find out what he knows.

Xiaozhi works out of an abandoned night market in Shek Kip Mei - the Shing House Court.
Triad Captain
Xiaozhi
Plastic-Faced Man
Mistress
Janitor
Strange Looking Elf
Corporate Bodyguard
Meet with Xiaozhi
Obtain Knockout Drugs Locally
Subdue the Plastic-Faced Man with the Inhibitor
Capture the Plastic-Faced Man
Interrogate the Plastic-Faced Man
The Plastic-Faced Man Must Survive
Travel to the Extraction Location
Kill the Plastic-Faced Man
Search Xiaozhi's Computer for the Itinerary
You must bring the Neural Inhibitor.
Slo-Mo
Increases the target's AP cost for all actions by 2. Lasts for 2 RNDS.
Slo-Mo: All Actions AP Cost +2
+4 DMG. Additional 4 HP of Bleeding DMG for 2 RNDs.
Force 1 Nature Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 1 Nature Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
A middle-aged woman with a slouching posture stands with her back to a reinforced door.

With a languid motion, she turns her head to stare at you.
New folks. I'll be damned.

{{GM}}She shifts positions with a grunt.{{/GM}}

The hell are you doing in here?
The Rat King has ruled here for long enough. We're taking it down, and we could use your help.
What's behind that door, there?
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}} I was just leaving.
{{GM}}She shakes her head no.{{/GM}}

Nope. I ain't seen your friend.

Sorry.
You don't even know what our friend looks like yet. How can you say for sure that you haven't seen her?
No one's come down here today but you. Not a soul. Didn't see anyone yesterday, either. And I can't remember much past then.

{{GM}}She smiles, revealing a crumbling set of nicotine-stained teeth.{{/GM}}

Bad memory. Can't do a thing about it.
{{GM}}Her eyes go wide.{{/GM}}

You'll get yourselves killed even talking like that! You'll get *me* killed with you!

Get the hell out of here, right now. I won't take part in another damned mutiny!
Think. How does it help you for the Rat King to stay in control?
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}} Calm down, I'm sorry I asked. I'll leave you alone.
{{GM}}She screeches and bull-rushes you.{{/GM}}

I WARNED YOU NOT TO TALK!
You'd better! I'm warning you!

{{GM}}She shakes her fist at you, red-cheeked.{{/GM}}
Name's Lisa. You can call me Lees, though. Everybody on the raft does.
{{GM}}She runs her tongue over her teeth.{{/GM}}

Storage closet. Nothing worthwhile in there. Don't even know why they have me standing watch over the thing.

But those are the rules, right? And you can't question the rules.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Medium){{/CC}} If there's nothing worthwhile in there, then it couldn't hurt to let us have a look around inside, could it?
How about this... you open the door, or I'll open your skull.
I'm questioning them right now. What did the rules ever do for you?
You're right... we mustn't question the rules. That would be wrong.
{{GM}}Attack her.{{/GM}} To hell with this. I'm going through that door, one way or another.
{{GM}}She frowns, thinking.{{/GM}}

...I guess that it couldn't. I mean, you can't steal *nothing,* can you?
So how about it? Will you open the door for us?
{{GM}}She reaches back and pulls a lever. You hear the metallic scrape of the door unlatching itself.{{/GM}}

Here you go. Knock yourselves out.
You think that you can scare me?

{{GM}}She giggles.{{/GM}}

I've seen what's down beneath our feet. Saw it with my own eyes. Compared to that, you're nothing, shadowrunner.
{{GM}}With a lurch, she raises her weapon. Madness burns in her eyes.{{/GM}}

Nothing at all.
Well, they kept me alive, for one.

{{GM}}She licks her lips, nodding.{{/GM}}

That means that I'm doin' better than some.
{{CC}}Intelligence: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Medium){{/CC}} Has following the rules ever gotten anyone hurt, or killed?
Did somebody get killed for breaking the rules?
Fair enough. Let's talk about something else.
{{GM}}She pauses, considering.{{/GM}}

Sure... I guess so. But maintaining a raft like this is dangerous work.

Sometimes accidents can happen. Doesn't mean that you don't have to do your job. We all have to earn our keep.
It sounds like disobeying the rules can get you killed, but obeying them can get you killed, too.

So what's the difference between the two?
I... I dunno. Maybe there isn't one?

{{GM}}The guard blinks, a look of confusion blanketing her face.{{/GM}}
If there's no difference between following the rules and breaking them, could you opent he door for us?
{{GM}}She nods slowly.{{/GM}}

Lotsa people. Y'can't disobey orders. Not on a ship at sea.
...Or a rusting hulk moored in a bay.

{{GM}}The words come muttered under her breath.{{/GM}}
Or a raft, like your little friend says.

{{GM}}She shoots a dark glance at Is0bel, and her knuckles whiten as her grip on her weapon tightens.{{/GM}}

She should be nicer about it, though. This "rusting hulk" is my home.
Sure. Just so long as it *don't* involve breaking the rules.
{{GM}}Her face lights up.{{/GM}}

Exactly! So, uh... is there anything else can I do for you? Anything that *don't* involve breaking the rules?
{{GM}}The guard turns to face you.{{/GM}}

You're back. Why?
Force 6 Water Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 6 Water Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Rip Armor
An unarmed attack that does +1 AP DMG, and strips 2 Armor from the target. Accuracy -5%.
Synthacardium Mk 2 (Bioware)
Artificially enhanced myocardium enables a user to perform strenuous activities at higher levels than would otherwise be possible. Passive: +1 Dodge, +1 Throwing Weapons, +1 Movement.
Cast Stunbolt
Sleep Attack
Racter's custom built walker drone, customized over the years to improve its effectiveness.
Repair targets.
Blood magic, practiced by the mages employed by Aztechnology. If target is damaged, caster gains 2 HP per RND for 2 RNDs.
Haste I
Increases the friendly target's AP by 1 for 2 RNDS. Shares a cooldown with other Haste spells.
Ghoul Leg
The effects of the HMHVV virus endows ghouls with +1 movement speed.
Platelet Factory (Bioware)
Increases thrombocyte production, lessening the trauma from recently-inflicted wounds. When triggered, heals the user's most recent wound. Cost: 1 AP. Cooldown: 2.
Cheap Credstick
The cheap credstick that a Yellow Lotus soldier stole from an elderly Walled City resident.
You enter the trawler to find your crew gathered together waiting for you. Is0bel has her head buried in her PDA. The rest of them stand watching her, trying to be patient.
Did someone call a crew meeting? I told you, *I'm* the one who gets to call crew meetings.
Is0bel, you look like you have something to tell the class.
Izz has been doing her homework on Josephine Tsang and Tsang Mechanical Services.
The dwarf paces up and back, trying to decide how to begin.
{{GM}}Is0bel paces up and back, trying to decide how to begin.{{/GM}}

I've been doing my homework on Josephine Tsang and Tsang Mechanical Services.
{{GM}}The dwarf paces up and back, trying to decide how to begin.{{/GM}}

I've been doing my homework on Josephine Tsang and Tsang Mechanical Services.
You're pacing, so that tells me you've found something.
I assume it's just a standard, run-of-the-mill mechanical services company.
Spill it.
Oh, yeah. I found something, all right.

{{GM}}Is0bel lifts her PDA to her face and consults her notes.{{/GM}}
Actually, as far as I can tell, it is.

{{GM}}Is0bel lifts her PDA to her face and consults her notes.{{/GM}}
Okay. Smoke 'em if ya got 'em, because there's a lot to go over.

{{GM}}Is0bel lifts her PDA to her face and consults her notes.{{/GM}}
In 2011, Tsang Mechanical Services was a D-level corp floundering in the shallow end of the Hong Kong corporate pool.

That's when Josephine Shui married into the family. Josephine thought big.

She conceived of a massive project that would catapult TMS into the big time. Something she called the Prosperity Project.
Prosperity? That's what Raymond was mumbling about.
What does any of this have to do with Raymond?
What is the Prosperity Project?
It has nothing whatsoever to do with Raymond Black.

It has everything to do with Edward Tsang.
Edward Tsang?
Then let me guess. Josephine's husband or son?
Is Raymond Black actually Edward Tsang?
That's your foster father's real name.
{{GM}}Duncan's jaw drops open.{{/GM}}

What the hell?
Son.
{{GM}}Duncan's jaw drops open.{{/GM}}

What? No. Come on.
Raymond Black is actually Edward Tsang, the only son of Josephine Tsang and her late husband, Breakwater Tsang.
So our secret foster grandmother is trying to kill us?
What kind of a name is Breakwater?
I always wondered where Raymond's money came from.
It looks that way, yeah.
Racter chuckles softly to himself.
Secret grandmother? What the hell is going on, Is0bel?

Start from the beginning.
Cooler than he was, apparently. Breakwater Tsang was kind of a nobody - the nothing son of the company's nothing founder. The best thing he ever did for his company - or his family - was marry Josephine.

Then die of a heart attack and get out of her way.
It came from Tsang Mechnanical Services - and from the Walled City.
What the hell is going on, Is0bel? Start from the beginning.
Okay, here we go. Once upon a time in the 1900s, the Walled City was a densely populated slum. Something like 30,000 people crammed into six and a half acres.
Wait, I've heard this story before. It's a shithole, Hell-on-Earth, yadda-yadda-yadda.
That's *today's* Walled City - the *second* Walled City.

The first Walled City started life well over a hundred years ago and lasted through both World Wars and almost through to the Awakening. It was torn down in 1994 when the government had finally had enough. It had become such a haven for criminals that the cops would only enter it in large, well-armed groups.
Sounds familiar.
In 2021, Josephine Tsang proposed a vision for a new type of low-income housing project - the Prosperity Project - a self-contained, low-cost walking neighborhood for the poor, but on a grand scale.

The Prosperity Project would give Hong Kong's poor and the flood of refugees pouring into the country a place they could call their own - something that felt more permanent than the sprawling tent city that spontaneously sprang up after the first Walled City was demolished.
Oh good. A visionary.
She got the grand scale right. It's a giant hellhole.
That doesn't sound like the Walled City I've been to.
{{GM}}Is0bel's response is flat as a board.{{/GM}}

No kidding.

The Prosperity Project would replace the tent city and would be symbolically built on the site of the old Walled City.

The slogan was, "A place of Dignity - where Prosperity begins."
And ends, apparently.
And ends.
The apartments weren't much bigger than the space you'd get in your average coffin motel, but they were built around plazas and marketplaces that contained goods and services catering to the poor.
Like drug dealers and prostitutes. This sounds just like the first Walled City.
The government forgot the lessons of the last Walled City - they loved the idea of containing the refugees and the poor to only a few densely populated blocks. It kept them out of the public eye.
Kept the tourists happy, too.
{{GM}}Is0bel gives Gobbet a flat "shut up" expression. Gobbet smirks in reply.{{/GM}}

Securing the Walled City job was the first step toward Tsang becoming what it is today. Toward putting Josephine Tsang on the Executive Council.
One slum made her rich?
That doesn't line up. How did she get so powerful by building a slum?
It wasn't the slum that made her rich. From what I've read, the Walled City job was a disaster. By all accounts, her Prosperity Project should've landed her in the poorhouse.

That wasn't what happened, though. After the Walled City went up, TMS landed contract after contract - huge, lucrative ones. Nobody knows why. And *those* were the jobs that propelled TMS into the big time.
So where's Raymond come into all this?
Not Raymond. Edward.

Edward Tsang was in charge of laying the groundwork for the Walled City - excavation and utilities, running in power lines, sewage, that kind of thing.
Wait, that doesn't make any sense. Remember that massive gray water leak that flooded the basement back in ‘48?
When we got back from that camping trip in the Salish? Ray screamed bloody murder about that.
Yeah. Remember what happened to Mrs. Malony?
What about it?
{{GM}}Wu nods, smiling.{{/GM}}

I'd never seen him so angry.

{{GM}}He sobers.{{/GM}}

But did Raymond know how to fix it? No.
You mean her feet?

{{GM}}Wu winces and lets out an grunt of disgust.{{/GM}}

They swelled to like *three times* their normal size. Yeah, thanks for bringing back *that* memory.

{{GM}}He sobers.{{/GM}}

But think about it - did Raymond have *any* idea how to fix it? No.
Ray didn't know the first thing about sewer lines - he hired a small army of plumbers, probably paid 'em double what the job was worth to fix the thing, and it still took almost two months to get the leak under control.
And Josephine put *him* in charge of the utilities? No wonder the Walled City smells like that.
So?
Not much of a utility expert, huh?
I don't think Raymond had anything to do with the utilities in the Walled City.
So, if this man was not in charge of the utilities for the project, what was he doing down there?
So, if Raymond wasn't in charge of the utilities for the project, what was he doing down there?
I don't know. But Edward Tsang disappeared from the public eye shortly after Prosperity was completed. Around 2031.
That's about the time he moved to Seattle. Around seven years before he found us.
But what happened in the Walled City?
And what would make Raymond want to go back in there now after all these years?
I don't know, but I intend to find out.
That's a question for later. For now, let's make some money.
Doesn't matter. What matters is payback.
Once upon a time in the 1900s, the Walled City was a densely populated slum. Something like 30,000 people crammed into six and a half acres.
The Prosperity Project would replace the tent city and would be symbolically built on the site of the old Walled City.

The slogan was, "A place of Dignity - where Prosperity begins."
The apartments weren't much bigger than the space you'd get in your average coffin motel, but they were built around plazas and marketplaces that contained goods and services catering to the poor. The government forgot the lessons of the last Walled City - they loved the idea of containing the refugees and the poor to only a few densely populated blocks. It kept them out of the public eye.

Securing the contract catapulted Tsang Mechanical Services' fortunes ahead. It eventually put Josephine Tsang onto the Executive Council.
It's a very big slum.

Apparently, that was also the beginning of a series of lucrative building contracts that propelled TMS into the big time.
Where's Raymond come into all this?
Raymond Black doesn't come into it at all.

But Edward Tsang does.
Josphine's husband or son?
Raymond Black was actually Edward Tsang, the only son of Josephine Tsang and her late husband, Breakwater Tsang.

Edward was in charge of laying the groundwork for the Walled City - excavation and utilities, running in power lines, sewage, that kind of thing.
Wait, this doesn't make any sense. Remember that massive gray water leak that flooded the basement back in ‘48?
And Josephine put *him* in change of the utilities? No wonder the Walled City smells like that.
Hydraulic Jack Mk 1
An industrial heavy lifting system that has been repurposed to provide bursts of speed. When triggered, adds +3 Movement. Lasts 1 RND. Cost: 0 AP. Cooldown: 6.
Hydraulic Jack: Movement +3
Eviscerate
Twist the blade for more internal damage. -2 DMG, +5 stacking bleed DMG. Strips 2 Armor from target.
Hemorrhaging: HP -5 per RND
Flourish
A whip attack that will cause bleeding in the target, leaving them bleeding for 3 to 6 DMG per RND for 3 RNDs. Penetrates up to 2 Armor.
Bleeding: HP -6 per RND
A heavily rusted wheel has been mounted to one of the containers here.
The floor grates here look similar to the ones near all the flooding.

{{GM}}She examines the grates, frowning.{{/GM}}

Yeah... I think that all of this might be connected. Hydraulic, maybe - I can see some lines running under the lip of this container.
This might be the solution to our flooding problem... assuming that you can get that wheel to budge, that is.
{{CC}}Strength: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Medium){{/CC}} Turn the crank.
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}} There might be another way.
Using all the leverage that you can muster, you grab the wheel with both hands and wrench on it.

Rust flakes free, and a screech of tortured metal fills the air.
Finally, the wheel comes loose with an almighty crack. The follow-through nearly sweeps your feet out from under you.

The wheel spins freely for a time, then resistance begins to grow. You continue to crank until you feel something click.
The rusted wheel sits in its housing, as unmovable as it was the first time you saw it.
UNINVITED GUESTS
Dinnertime at The Shangri-La
A tangle of marine decorum, restless lights, and ambrosial scents mingle atop a floating quay to accent the Shangri-La - Aberdeen Harbour's premier dining location. With competitive views of the surrounding bay, the restaurant attracts a steady crowd of tourists and Wuxing personnel.

The primary moneyman for the 289s, Cheung-Sing "Rooster" Lo, is enjoying a rare meal outside of triad-held territory. Intel says he's set up in one of the restaurant's private dining rooms - but he's not alone. Rooster keeps a personal bodyguard, a notorious ork called "the Talon," in addition to his regular security detail. You've seen photos of the Talon's handiwork... bodies so battered it's hard to tell where one bruise ends and the next begins.

Your mission: locate Rooster, extract him from the Shangri-La, and deliver him to your client alive. Simple, fast, low profile. Of course, even the simplest of runs can go sideways...
Waitress
Henry
David
Chef Yan-Lung
Cheung-Sing “Rooster” Lo
Johnny "The Talon"
Second Floor Server
Triad Sniper
$(scene.Global_BoatDriverName)
CameraStandIn
Extract Cheung-Sing “Rooster” Lo
Kill Johnny "The Talon"
Poison "The Talon's" Food
Keep Your Crew Alive
Keep Cheung-Sing “Rooster” Lo Alive
Protect Cheung-Sing “Rooster” Lo From All Harm
Create a Diversion Outside Restaurant
Find And Capture "Rooster"
Locate Cheung-Sing "Rooster" Lo, once you have. Capture him so that he can be extracted.
Locate Rooster's Dining Room
Lots of chatter about a guest on the second floor. It must be Rooster.
Capture "Rooster"
It seems there is a "special guest" on the second floor, that is probably Rooster. Time to get upstairs and check it out.
Use the Service Entrance to Get Outside
Access the Docking Bay to Escape
Hack Open the Docking Door in the Matrix
Secure Mage Clothing
Basic clothing for the shadowrunning mage.
{{GM}}David is all smiles. He's just finished a joke to the uproarious laughter of his party.{{/GM}}

Hello, friend. Trying to get in on this joviality? You're welcome to join us for the next round.

{{GM}}His words bleed into each other. This isn't his first drink.{{/GM}}
What are we celebrating?
I actually just came over to ask you about that man drinking alone. Says he knows you.
My recent successes!

Through some hard work, and a little businessly persuasion...

{{GM}}He winks at you knowingly.{{/GM}}

I sealed two contracts, and a third is on the way.
{{CC}}¥20{{/CC}} Hey, congratulations! Next round's on me.
Well, I'll be. That's the exact amount of contracts Henry lost today.
Do you usually celebrate theft this openly?
That's convenient. Especially considering what happened to Henry.
{{GM}}David beams.{{/GM}}

Here's a real friend. Come, let's drink!
{{GM}}He slams back a shot and hoots with satisfaction.{{/GM}}

Much appreciated. Thank you, my good $(l.man).
So, from one friend to another - how did you bag all those contracts in one day?
Tell me more about this recent success of yours.
I wish *my* hard work paid off like yours.
{{GM}}A fresh flush fills David's cheeks. He wobbles on the spot and grins at you.{{/GM}}

Wasn't too hard, truth be told. Someone did most the work for me.
You see that poor sot down there?

{{GM}}He gestures to Henry.{{/GM}}

We just upgraded our security at work. Few nights ago, that fool left behind a note containing his new password. I wrote it down and had some fun. Sent nasty messages to his clients, removed a couple appointments from his schedule...
{{GM}}David tosses his hands into the air, spilling his drink.{{/GM}}

...and *BOOM.* I'm employee of the month. All I had to do was some damage control. But that man's clients?

They're now *mine.*
Wow. That's some twisted shit.
You're a maniac. Henry's going to lose it when I tell him.
Nicely done. Very clever, my friend.
You lack perspective: This is Hong Kong. This is Wuxing. This is business.

You must be new here if you think this strange.

{{GM}}He laughs. His posse joins in.{{/GM}}

Thanks for the drink, *friend.*
Hey $(l.name), these guys are right on the edge. Both blasted, one pissed off, the other... well an asshole.
One word and these guys will be throwing down. That happens loud enough. Security is bound to respond. Just a thought.
Regardless of our stake in this, it would seem these two have a disagreement that must be settled. I believe we should lead them to that conclusion.
Physical confrontation can end most arguments of right and wrong.
These guys are lit. Which do you think would win in a fight?
Ooh! We should find out! 10 nuyen on the mopey one, rage goes a long way in a fight.
{{GM}}Shrugging.{{/GM}}

At the very least it'll keep security's hands full.
I don't know which of these two I dislike more. But it would make me laugh to see them hit eachother.
What do you say, $(l.name). A little sabotage goes a long way.
I know the sting of professional theft. We should let the other one know, to sort out this issue correctly.
{{GM}}David's eyes grow wide. He trips over his tongue.{{/GM}}

When you *what?* I... I thought... W-why would you tell him?

{{GM}}Angers blares through the confusion.{{/GM}}

You're no friend of mine. Go ahead and tell Henry! I don't care. Just get away from me.
{{GM}}His cocky smile stretches across his all-too-proud face.{{/GM}}

I thought so too. Thanks again for the drink, friend. You have yourself a good night.
There's a natural ebb and flow within the business world.

{{GM}}He tilts his glass from side to side. The liquid inside flows back and forth, almost, but never quite, spilling over the ridge.{{/GM}}

Sometimes you're up, sometimes you're down. I've had an up day. Truly sorry to hear that Henry is down.
It seems like there's more at play here.
Sounds like corporate rhetoric to me.
What a load of crock.
{{GM}}David's smug expression drops.{{/GM}}

Excuse me? What are you implying?
Your coworker over there lost two contracts today, and is about to lose a third. Opposite of your situation, and on the very same day, too. Sounds mighty suspicious.
Did Henry tell you I *stole* his contracts? That's illegal, you realize.

{{GM}}He makes a disgusted sound. Rolls his eyes.{{/GM}}

He's just angry that he didn't have the wits or motivation to keep those clients under his payroll.

{{GM}}His words drip with condescension.{{/GM}}
Henry didn't say that. *I'm* saying that.
{{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} He sure did. Said you've been sabotaging him right and left.
Well, no. He never said you took his contracts *illegally*...
Bold, aren't you?

{{GM}}His feet lock into place to control his swaying. He looks you straight in the eye.{{/GM}}

Where's your proof?
It's more of a feeling.
I'm not looking for a fight.
I don't have any.
Then quit ruining my celebration!

Now, get out of here before I sic security on you.
{{GM}}David's jawline goes rigid.{{/GM}}

That delusional louse. I'll make sure he never slanders my hard work again.

{{GM}}With a clatter, he slams his drink onto the counter and heads straight for Henry.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}David nods in response one too many times, his head full of drink.{{/GM}}

Right. Right. So long as he isn't spreading any half-truths.
{{GM}}His feet lock into place to control his swaying. He looks you straight in the eye.{{/GM}}

Say, you got any proof of this slander?
Who, Henry? Yeah, I know him. We work in the same office. Looks like he's having a bad day.
A bad day, huh? Why do you think that is?
It's worse than you think.
That's putting it lightly. The man's wrecked.
Have you finally come around? Sit down. Join us.
Slow 3
Decreases the target's movement by 3 for 4 RNDS.
Slow: Movement -3
Does -1 AP but reduces HP DMG by 6. Can hit adjacent targets at ranges of 6 or greater. Reduced accuracy.
Paydata: Wuxing Delivery Manifest & ID
A digital manifest for some shipping requests. A few bills of lading, a lot of bundled logistical data. As well as a ID badge that should pass basic muster. It's worth selling the proprietary info as paydata. Is0bel can handle the break down.
{{GM}}Charles rushes up to the guards, feigning a loss of breath.{{/GM}}

...Sir! I've received a warning... about a break-in on floor twenty-seven. My coworker's up there... says he's in danger!
What?

{{GM}}A guard whips around and sees Charles' frightened expression.{{/GM}}

We're on it!
{{GM}}The guard lifts his hand to his ear and barks into his commlink.{{/GM}}

Team One, this is Team Two. We're sending an immediate dispatch to floor twenty-seven in response to a break-in report. Hold down the basement while we're gone.
{{GM}}The officer pauses, listening to a response on the other end. Presumably from Team One.{{/GM}}

Positions locked. We're out.
The three guards charge into the elevator with Charles in tow.
This is a standard hotel door protected by a simple hydraulic locking mechanism.

A keypad is mounted beside doorframe.
{{CC}}Spellcasting or Conjuring{{/CC}} {{GM}}Use Astral Perception to assense the keypad.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Input code.{{/GM}}
Your third eye slides open, and the keypad before you takes on a gentle glow.

A repetitive sensation radiates from 6, 1, 5, and 3. The code is likely a combination of these numbers.
I can't tell in what order they're used, but these are the numbers...

{{GM}}Gaichu gestures to 6, 1, 3, and 5.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Gobbet leans forward and examines at the keypad. After a moment, she turns to you.{{/GM}}

A few of the numbers are worn out. Looks like it's some combination of 1, 3, 5 and 6.
1635
Fuchi Tech Savvy
Fuchi line favored by many deckers, with integrated connections for most common cyberdecks. Grants +1 Intelligence and +1 Decking.
Uzi III
SMG: The most popular submachine gun in the world.
Explode
The spirit explodes with flames from itself, affecting the nearby area. Damaged targets are set on fire, doing 8 HP DMG for 2 RNDs.
On Fire: HP -8 per RND
Slow 1
Decreases the target's movement by 1 for 3 RNDS.
Slow: -1 Movement
Maintenance Datapad
A cheap datapad full of instructions and notes from a member of the Sinking Ship's maintenance crew.
Activate Platelet Factory
Heals the last wound taken by self.
Haste IV
Increases the friendly target's AP by 1 for 4 RNDS. Has a chance to increase AP by 2. Shares a cooldown with other Haste spells.
Haste: AP +2
Slow 2
Decreases the target's movement by 2 for 3 RNDS.
SecureTech's armored clothing line. Kevlar is woven into the fabric, providing protection from most small arms. Grants +5 HP.
Just toss it on and head on out. Perfect for working in the shop.
A quick glance around the shop reveals an unusual level of untidiness. The whole place is covered in books, sprawled across the floor and piled high atop tables, chairs, and desks.

The shopkeeper peers at you curiously, her pink highlights gleaming in the candlelight. At first glance it seems that she's wearing long sleeves, but you realize that her arms are covered in an intricate tattoo. A school of salmon jumping upstream.
{{GM}}She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear.{{/GM}}

Welcome. I don't believe we've met. The name's Crafty.
I'd like to see what you're selling.
Nice shop. Is it yours?
You hear about what happened with the Walled City?
I need to be on my way. See you.
My mother's, originally. I inherited it.

It's certainly got its quirks, like the squeaky floorboards and leaky ceiling, but it's home.
Your mother not around anymore?
Yeah? Does it have a history?
Least you have one.
Nope. She died.

It's not really a story I want to get into. I've only recently come to appreciate her efforts as a mage, a mother, and a researcher, and I'm still processing. You understand.
No problem. Mind if I take a look around?
It's about time I leave anyway. See you.
{{GM}}She gestures to the bookshelves.{{/GM}}

Go ahead.
{{GM}}She tilts her head to the side and silently regards you before replying.{{/GM}}

Yeah. See you.
Like you wouldn't believe. But to be honest, I've just gone through a lot, and I'm really not up to discussing it right now. I have about a month's worth of sleep I need to catch up on, and I'm just trying to get through this shift.

You're welcome to take a look around. Let the store speak for itself and all that.
{{GM}}She shrugs loosely.{{/GM}}

Guesso.
A little.

{{GM}}She pauses.{{/GM}}

Maybe a lottle.
I'm aware that something big went down there, and now the dreams are gone. *Finally*... They were worse than hangovers.
Seems that's what most people are saying.
It was something, all right.
Well, the bulk of my reading material is on the Walled City, so from that perspective I'm practically an expert.

But as for what actually happened *inside* the city, everything I know comes from rumors. I'm just glad it's over with.
You sure you don't know anything else?
Same.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

Like I said, I'm up to here with Walled City texts. You're welcome to check them out.
I'm sure most people weren't there.
You say that as if you *were* there.
Yeah, you're right.
Me? No. I've got a business to run, after all.

Been holed up here since the shop was left to me. Most I've seen these last few weeks is the insides of these books.

{{GM}}She nods to the stacks of books scattered around the room.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}She turns her head to the side, candlelight glinting in her eyes. You get the feeling she knows more than she's letting on, but her body language tells you she's not interested in continuing the subject.{{/GM}}

If you're curious about the Walled City, I've got tons of books on the subject. You're welcome to check them out.
{{GM}}She turns her head to the side, candlelight glinting in her eyes. You get the feeling she knows more than she's letting on, but her body language tells you she's not interested in continuing the subject.{{/GM}}

I'll bet it was.
{{GM}}A quick glance around the shop reveals an unusual level of untidiness. The whole place is covered in books, sprawled across the floor and piled high atop tables, chairs, and desks.

The shopkeeper peers at you from behind a tower of loosely stacked texts, her eyes red and weary.{{/GM}}

Welcome. I don't believe we've met. The name's Crafty.
{{GM}}She sees you eying the paperback chaos.{{/GM}}

Ah, yeah... sorry for the mess. I've been real busy lately.
Selling anything?
It's fine. Name's $(s.name), by the way. There a motivation behind this mess?
I was just scoping out the neighborhood. See ya.
Let me know if there's anything else I can help you with.
{{GM}}Crafty leans forward, strands of black and pink hair falling across her cheeks. Places a book on top of the pile before her.{{/GM}}

You could say that.

{{GM}}Her eyes narrow.{{/GM}}

Tell me... have you had the dreams?
I sure have. You know something about them?
Definitely. And more than one.
Yeah. Lotta people around here are having 'em.
{{GM}}She seems satisfied with your answer, and lazily pushes a strand of hair behind her ear.{{/GM}}

My mother was an avid researcher of the Walled City. She kept extensive journals on her findings.

{{GM}}A sweep of her hand gestures to the entire shop.{{/GM}}

These dreams we're having - they're commonplace in the Walled City. But ever since they started leaking into Heoi, I felt something was wrong.
Against my better judgment, I've started reading her notes to see what I can learn about the dreams. I always thought her theories were just the ravings of a madwoman, but now...

{{GM}}She leans back and places her hands behind her head for support.{{/GM}}

Well, the investigation is still underway, as you can see.
Sounds like you and I are interested in the same thing.
If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to help.
Anything I can do?
{{GM}}Her eyes search your face. After a moment, she nods.{{/GM}}

Tell you what: if you can keep the investigation going on your end, I'll share what I've found. Two minds are always better than one - especially when it comes to dealing with something as abstract as dreams.
A mild scent - sweet, and slightly herbal - is the first thing you notice upon entering the old shop. Its quarters are cramped, made smaller by the display cases and furniture packed inside.
The walls are lined with bookshelves, and the tables and chairs are stacked with old tomes. A few titles jump out at you: "LUCID DREAMING: AN EXPLORATION OF THE INNER SELF." "DREAM-LOGIC." "NOCTURNAL VISITATIONS."

Overall, the place feels lived in, if disorganized. Not quite cluttered, but close.
Milling at the front of the store is the shopkeeper, lost in a book of her own. She's tall for a human, probably close to two meters in height. Her physique is typical bookworm - not overweight, but you can't see any muscular definition either. A wrap-around tattoo covers her upper arms and shoulders, but from where you're standing, you can't quite make it out.

She fidgets. Gradually, her eyes rise from her book and lock onto you.
Welcome. Don't believe I've seen you before.

{{GM}}She sets down her book and sweeps a strand of black and pink hair behind her ear.{{/GM}}

Name's Crafty.
$(s.name). Nice to meet you.
{{GM}}She shakes your hand. Her grip is surprisingly firm.{{/GM}}

So, $(l.name). What can I do for you? I've got spells, alchemical reagents, foci... whatever you want, really. Might have to do some digging to find it, but if it's magical, it's around here somewhere.
I'd like to see your wares.
Say, Crafty... have you had any vivid dreams lately?
Is this your store, or do you just work here?
Tell me about yourself, Crafty.
What else do you know about the Walled City?
I get the feeling that your relationship with your mother was... unusual.
It sounds to me like you don't believe in your mother's research.
I've been thinking about the dreams. Can I ask you something?
Thanks, Crafty.
{{GM}}Her face is unreadable. Her eyes lock onto yours.{{/GM}}

As a matter of fact, I have, $(l.name).

But we all get the occasional vivid dream - nothing special there.
{{GM}}Gesture to the books on the tabletop.{{/GM}} Really? Then why are you reading up on them?
{{GM}}She flicks her wrist dismissively.{{/GM}}

Sure, it's a little weird that *we're* having them, but these types of dreams are common in the Walled City.

Nothing to get all worked up about... probably.
They're *common?* Explain.
Strange... I met someone the other day who said that, too.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

Common as the cold.

My mother devoted her life to researching the Walled City and the magical phenomena within it, so I grew up with stories about the city. The recurrent, creepy dreams being one of them.

I've never been inside the Walled City, myself. But Mom went in pretty regularly and experienced the dreams.
Your mom sounds like an interesting person.
Where's your mother now?
On that note... I'll see you later.
{{GM}}This sides of her mouth dip into a shallow frown.{{/GM}}

Sure. She was... interesting. But not praiseworthy.
Dead.

{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

Mom was... interesting. But not praiseworthy.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

Anyone who's familiar with the Walled City would know that. But most people don't go out of their way to find out.

My mother devoted her life to researching the Walled City and the magical phenomena within it, so I grew up with stories about the city. The recurrent, creepy dreams being one of them.
They're common, then?
It's mine. I inherited it from my mom. As you can see, she generously left me all her research journals.

{{GM}}Her words are thick with sarcasm.{{/GM}}

Mom was never a big cleaner... but neither am I.
My mom used to keep spirits around that helped her manage the place. They're not here anymore, but sometimes I swear my books aren't where I last placed them.

Who knows - maybe they pop by for visits. I just wish they'd clean while they're here...
What makes this store so special?
What's with the name of the store?
I have a question about something else.
What are you selling?
It's old. Respectable. Built over a dragon line.

{{GM}}She slightly tilts her head to the side.{{/GM}}

We also carry texts unavailable anywhere else. But I guess, for me, I'm drawn to this place by the nostalgia.
How do you like working here?
You don't sound thrilled.
Sounds horrible. If I were you, I'd sell the place and bail.
It's a job. Can't complain.
{{GM}}A twinge of annoyance manifests as a half frown and narrowed eyes.{{/GM}}

Easy for you to say. You have no obligation to this place.

I'd appreciate it if you'd think before you speak, next time. Good day.
It's a... cultural thing. The five phases represent wood, earth, water, fire, and metal. Some people believe they're the basis of how things function and interact in this world. You'll find it practiced all throughout China, in disciplines ranging from farming to science - even music.
The theory isn't common among younger generations, but it has its uses. My mother was strongly influenced by it. In fact, our sign out front is a visual representation of the cycle of five phases. It was an inspiration her.

{{GM}}She raises a shoulder in a half shrug.{{/GM}}

I just think it looks neat.
Sure.
{{GM}}She raises a shoulder in a half shrug.{{/GM}}

I'm not sure where to start. What do you want to know?
What do you do when you're not at work?
Is "Crafty" really your first name?
Your mother sounds like quite the mage. Did you study magic, too?
Back on topic...
I've been pretty crunched here at the shop, so I don't have a lot of time outside of work. But when I'm off the clock, I like to read and paint... maybe kick back and enjoy a meal with my friends. My buddy Gobbet sometimes stops by with food.

No drag racing or anything. Pretty boring.
Gobbet sent me here, actually. She sent me a message saying that I should talk to you.
You said you paint?
What do you like to read?
I know a Gobbet. Wonder if they're the same person.
Sounds fun. But I'd like to ask you something on a more serious note.
She's a good person, isn't she? We're not real close, but we have a pleasant relationship. Chatting over french fries, discussing our latest reads... you know. Shallow things.

How do you know her?
Just for fun. I don't make any money off of it or anything like that. I just find it... relaxing.

{{GM}}She pats her arms.{{/GM}}

Designed my tattoos. But that's about the extent that I take it beyond the canvas.
I'd like to see your paintings sometime.
Mind if I see that tattoo? I can't quite make it out from here.
Ever try painting things from the dreams?
Some of them are around the shop. You're welcome to take a look.
Yeah... sure.

{{GM}}She turns her back to you, and you can see the tattoo in all its glory. It looks like an impressionist rendition of a school of salmon jumping upstream. The artistry of the piece is undeniable.{{/GM}}
That's amazing. Really professional-quality work.
I've seen better. Still, not bad.
Tattoos aren't really my thing. Still, I'm impressed that you designed it yourself.
{{GM}}An embarrassed smile creeps into her features. She scratches her shoulder.{{/GM}}

You're being way too generous. But I'll take it. Thanks.
{{GM}}The corner of her mouth dips downward.{{/GM}}

Gee... thanks.
{{GM}}An embarrassed smile creeps into her features. She scratches her shoulder.{{/GM}}

Yeah, well... thanks. It wasn't an easy decision to make, but I like how it turned out.
No. I'd never taint my canvas like that. What happens in the dreams should stay there.

Best keep it out of our waking lives as much as possible.
{{GM}}Crafty claps her hands together, and a slow smile spreads across her face.{{/GM}}

Aside from the usual, I love sitting down each morning to a tall cup of soykaf, and with the latest news stream on hand, I pop it right open to the obituaries.

Makes for *great* reading.
{{GM}}She smiles at you for a moment before speaking.{{/GM}}

Kidding. Well... for all you know.

I tend to stray toward detective novels. Maybe some suspense and horror. And when I'm not reading for leisure, I study my textbooks to keep my magic sharp.
You know a lot of Gobbets?

{{GM}}Her teasing resolves itself into a gentle smirk.{{/GM}}

I'm sure they're one and the same. She's a good person. We're not real close, but we have a pleasant relationship. Chatting over french fries, discussing our latest reads... you know. Shallow things.
How do you know her?
We work together.
Just met, actually.
She and Is0bel got me out of a tough spot.
Good. Keep her by your side. Gobbet's pretty fluent in the ways of this city and the people who live here - she knows her stuff. If you stick with her, you'll find yourself in a lot less trouble than you would otherwise.
Sure. What's on your mind?
No...

{{GM}}A wave of nostalgia seems to pull her gaze toward the shop's front window.{{/GM}}

The name started out as a joke, actually. Back home, my mom used to call me Crafty, since the meaning is similar to my given name. I liked it because of the way it sounds.
I insisted that my family call me Crafty, so it became a sort of nickname around the house. When I got older and started school in Hong Kong, I made my mom register me as "Crafty," and it stuck.
So what's your given name?
Looks like you've owned it. Not to insinuate that you're, um... untrustworthy.
Let me guess. Your first name is... Phyllis.
Miao.

{{GM}}She raises her hand to prevent you from replying.{{/GM}}

Yes. Like a cat. You foreigners always make that same joke, which is why I grew up hating Miao.

Call me Crafty.
{{GM}}She chuckles.{{/GM}}

No offense taken. It's way better than my given name, Miao.
{{GM}}She raises her hand to prevent you from replying.{{/GM}}

Yes. Like a cat. You foreigners always make that same joke, which is why I grew up disliking the name.

You can see why I prefer Crafty.
Yes.
Wait. Seriously?
I knew it!
No way. I was just joking!
It's true.

{{GM}}She covers her eyes with her hand, and her voice deepens. She sounds close to tears.{{/GM}}

I was... I was born a Phyllis.
{{GM}}When she looks back at you, her eyes are pleading.{{/GM}}

Now that you've uncovered the truth, what will you do about it?
You're for real? I was only joking.
Tell *everyone.*
Oh, Crafty... I mean, Phyllis. Phyllis, I'm so sorry.
{{GM}}Shoulders slump, eyes grow heavy. Her voice is now hardly louder than a whisper.{{/GM}}

You're right. It's time. Time to come out and tell the world who I truly am.
Of course it is. *I* thought of it.
I was only joking...
Her acts shatters as you see her struggling to hold back a smile.
I see what's going on here.
*Ha, ha,* very funny. Look how amused I am.
Oh. I get it. You really had me going there.
The temptation was too great. Anyway, name's Miao.

No cat jokes. *I mean it.*

Now, where were we?
{{GM}}Shoulders slump, eyes grow heavy. Her voice is now hardly louder than a whisper.{{/GM}}

You don't have to apologize. This is *my* burden. But, please... don't tell anyone. My reputation will be ruined.
I won't tell anyone, I swear.
Wouldn't dream of it.
Your secret's safe with me.
You have keen senses, $(l.name). It's true.

{{GM}}She covers her eyes with her hand, and her voice deepens. She sounds close to tears.{{/GM}}

I was... I was born a Phyllis.
I sure did. Natural predisposition.

{{GM}}She flexes her arm.{{/GM}}

Or whatever. But Mom and I learned the craft differently. I went to a university, and she was book taught.
Mom was *very* old school. Her magic wasn't as applicable to everyday situations, and it was rooted in superstitions.

It still worked - and well - but only for more ritualistic, ancient spells. Practical spells, like rain shields and bottomless trash cans, were outside of her repertoire.
Very little. Just that my mother spent most her time in there, and she...

{{GM}}She shifts her weight. Leans onto the counter.{{/GM}}

Well, it messed her up.

Is there something specific you want to know about?
What can you tell me about the city?
I want to know about the people who live there.
I'm thinking of moving to the Walled City. Any advice?
Nothing in particular.
{{GM}}She runs a hand through her hair. Exhales.{{/GM}}

Where to begin?

The Walled City's always been a hellhole. It started a bad place. It's still a bad place.
Crime's drawn to it like a magnet, and you can't enter the city without a security guard on each elbow. But not even that will guarantee you safe passage.

No one famous or rich or memorable has ever come from the place, and the only thing it's known for around here is its shitty reputation.

{{GM}}She shrugs loosely.{{/GM}}

That's about the gist of it.
Now, there's a whole library here that just so happens to be the foremost location for Walled City texts. I'm sure you can fill in the blanks.
Walled City residents tend to fall into two groups: those who are threats, and those who are threatened. You're either hunting or hiding. Life is harsh. Most people never get out.
Are you trying to be funny?

{{GM}}Her expression remains indifferent, but the coolness of her tone reveals her disapproval.{{/GM}}

If you want to make ignorant jokes about tragedies like the Walled City, take it outside my shop.
Sorry. That was in bad taste. Let's change the subject...
{{GM}}Leave.{{/GM}} Yeah, yeah.
Yeah. Let's do that.
Then you're in luck, because I know a lot about nothing. Maybe we can discuss the finer points of nothing in particular over tea sometime.

{{GM}}She flashes you a playful smile.{{/GM}}

There anything else you want to know?
You'd better believe it. She was *obsessed* with the Walled City. Put it before everyone in her life.

Mom ate, slept, and breathed that city.
Was something fueling her obsession?
It couldn't have been that bad.
I can see how that'd be hard to deal with.
{{GM}}Crafty shifts her gaze to a stack of books on a nearby table.{{/GM}}

Yeah, actually...

Mom was convinced that something was wrong with the place. That it was... *cursed*... in some way. Polluted with unnaturally bad qi.
She'd visit the city under the protection of the Yellow Lotus, and spend hours - sometimes days - studying it.

{{GM}}Crafty tears her eyes away from the books and returns her gaze to you.{{/GM}}

Mother was consumed by her research.
Did she ever find anything?
Your mom sounds like an accomplished woman.
What a waste of time.
She sure tried.

Mom thought she could find a way to purify the place and to exorcise its demons. Her obsession with the Walled City grew, and she devoted more and more of her life to breaking its curse.

Wish I could say she fell off the radar. But really, the rest of the world fell off of hers.
I'm sorry, Crafty. That must have been hard for you.
What a way to spend your childhood.
Could've been worse.
Hey, look on the bright side... at least you had a mother. I can't even remember mine.
It is what it is. And here I am.

{{GM}}Crafty gives you a warm smile.{{/GM}}
You're right. She could've been a rabid, blood-sucking vampire with a taste for child flesh.

Considering the circumstances, it was still hard. But here I am.
{{GM}}She looks stricken.{{/GM}}

Are you for real? Shit, $(l.name).
Yeah. It was difficult, but I obviously came out fine. Well, fine-ish.
Maybe you should think before you speak next time.
I'd still argue that not having a mother is better than having a worthless mother. But these things affect us all differently. Maybe I *am* lucky I had one growing up.

Either way, I'm sorry you didn't.
Don't worry about. I guess we share something in that respect - a lack of active mothers in our lives.
{{GM}}She nods grimly.{{/GM}}

What a bleak way to bond. Why don't we change the subject before this turns into a soap opera moment...
{{GM}}She raises both her hands.{{/GM}}

Whoa. I'm sorry if I offended you, but you don't have the right to get pissy with me about it. I didn't *mean* to upset you.

Why don't you take a moment to cool down? We can talk more later.
No. I'm fine.
If you say so. But I'm done talking about this.
You don't need to tell me.

Mom thought she could find a way to purify the place and to exorcise its demons. Her obsession with the Walled City grew, and she devoted more and more of her life to breaking its curse.

Wish I could say she fell off our radar. But really, we fell off of hers.
{{GM}}Crafty shifts her gaze to a stack of books on a nearby table.{{/GM}}

I lost my mother to her obsession. It would have been easier to have an absent parent, I think. She'd often stay at home when she wasn't in the city, but her thoughts were *always* with her work.

Mom was convinced that something was wrong with the place. That it was... *cursed*... in some way. Polluted with unnaturally bad qi.
{{GM}}Crafty shifts her gaze to a stack of books on a nearby table.{{/GM}}

I *couldn't* deal with it. That's why our relationship became so strained. She'd be with me, but her mind was always on work.

Mom was convinced that something was wrong with the place. That it was... *cursed*... in some way. Polluted with unnaturally bad qi.
{{GM}}You can see Crafty studying you. She exhales through her nose, and it seems as if she's considering something.{{/GM}}

I know we've just met, $(l.name), but you have a generous ear. I don't mind discussing my mother with you as long as we keep the details between us.
Mother's research... was stupid. Just plain stupid. She wasn't stupid herself. No, Mom was very bright. But her obsession was downright unhealthy. *Anyone* could see that.

The Walled City is a toxic place, home to dark spirits and astral influence, but Mom believed in a singular curse at the heart of the place.
How did you two fall out?
When you say "toxic," what do you mean?
Sounds to me like she was trying to make a real difference there.
My mother failed to change the Walled City, and the time she spent inside there changed her. She grew sickly and became moody... irritable. She suffered from night terrors the rest of her life.

{{GM}}Crafty languidly sweeps a small clump of dust off a nearby book.{{/GM}}
Your mom got moody, so you wrote her off?
She sounds like a selfish person.
It must've been difficult to watch her decline like that.
{{GM}}She points a finger at you.{{/GM}}

It wasn't just that. The breaking point for me was her ridiculous obsession. I refused to indulge her, and it drove a wedge between us. Neither of us was willing to relent.

{{GM}}A small, bitter laugh escapes her throat.{{/GM}}

I guess we had that in common. Stubborn till the end.
So, after Mom died, I turned my back on her work, and left the Walled City and its people to themselves.

It's a toxic site *beyond* rehabilitation. I do my best to ignore it.
{{GM}}Her composure breaks for a second, and you can see Crafty shift nervously behind the counter.{{/GM}}

At least, I've tried.

Now that these dreams - these *nightmares* - are leaking out of the Walled City, I wonder... I wonder if I can still ignore it.
Your mother was out of line.You did the right thing, Crafty.
We always have a choice.
What a disaster. How can you sleep at night?
Let me know what you decide. I've gotta head out.
I know. It was hard as hell, cutting out a loved one like that. But I had to to keep myself healthy. I couldn't stand to see Mom self-destruct like that.

{{GM}}She crosses her arms and raps her fingers against her skin.{{/GM}}

Anyway, thanks for lending me that ear of yours.
You're right. But not everyone's choices are weighted evenly, and I just don't think I can turn a blind eye to what's happening here.

{{GM}}She loosely gestures to the bookshelves all over the shop.{{/GM}}

I have my mother's journals. I have the means to try and help. It's sure to dredge up bad memories, but if it'll help my friends, maybe it'll be worth it... I don't know.
I guess I have a lot to think about.

{{GM}}She crosses her arms and raps her fingers against her skin.{{/GM}}

Anyway, thanks for lending me that ear of yours.
{{GM}}She holds up her hand, eyes hard.{{/GM}}

Hey. Don't you give me that. You think *anyone* is sleeping with these dreams haunting them?
I'm not sure why, but I trust you. Something in your aura, maybe... I don't know. But that's why I'm telling you this. So don't you throw it back in my face and insult me.

Now, excuse me. I have books to read.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

Go ahead.
Why do you think they're affecting people outside the Walled City?
It's definitely strange. Until now, I always thought the dreams were nonsense. That my mother just had night terrors because of her madness.

{{GM}}She props her chin up with her right hand.{{/GM}}
But now it's really happening. And not just to me - to others around Heoi. Those same psychic forces that drove Mom insane are edging into our subconscious.

Lately I've been wondering if there might've been something to her ravings. Maybe. I've been skeptical for so long, it feels almost blasphemous to consider it.
Maybe... the Walled City's curse is real.

{{GM}}She rubs her hand down her face, obviously frustrated.{{/GM}}

I just *don't know.*
Maybe you can learn something from your mom's journals.
Well, you have the means to find out.
Of all the people here, you have the greatest advantage when it comes to investigating these dreams.
That's true, but...

My mother's notes are scattered all over the shop. Most of her research is scrawled in the margins of the books that you see on the shelves and piles and stacks all over.

The clues we'd need to figure this thing out could be in any one of these volumes, and there are *thousands* of them.
I have a bad feeling about these dreams, Crafty. If there's anything we can do to get to the bottom of them, we need to take that opportunity.
This isn't just about you or your mom. This is about everyone who's having these dreams. And you could help them *all.*
But with the dreams' reach spreading, can you really afford to let all this knowledge just sit here?
{{GM}}She sighs. Straightens up.{{/GM}}

Yeah. I know what I have to do. It's just... damn. Look at them all.

{{GM}}She tiredly looks down at the book she was reading earlier.{{/GM}}

Guess I won't be finishing this one anytime soon.
All right, $(l.name). I'm going to get started. Now. But it'll take time - the House of Five Phases is jammed from floor to ceiling with books, and any one of them could hold valuable information.

Check in once in a while, and I'll share my findings with you.
Sure thing. Keep me updated.
You're doing the right thing. I'll do what I can, too.
If I have time.
All right. I've gotta go, but I'll see you around, Crafty. Good luck!
{{GM}}She clucks her tongue and points a finger at you.{{/GM}}

Will do.
Thanks. I appreciate that.
You'd better *make* time. I'm not going to haul ass for you to waltz in when you please and give me sass. You keep the investigation going on your end, and, in turn, I'll tell you what I've found.

Got it?
Okay, okay. You're right.
{{GM}}She nods, satisfied.{{/GM}}

'Course I am.
See you around.
Hey, there. Still don't know anything about the dreams. Or are you here to buy?
Immediately upon entering, you notice the clutter. Somehow, the small magic shop is even messier than before.

Stacks and stacks of books occupy chairs, tables, and the tops of shelves. There seems to be even more than when you first visited. It's as if you just entered a paper factory, and it's spawning season.
{{GM}}You peer around a precariously arranged tower of books and find Crafty hungrily reading one of her mother's journals.

Red rings her eyes, and tousled hair falls over her face. It looks like she hasn't seen the better part of a pillow in a couple days. She moves to stretch and spots you. With a quick flick of her hand, she marks her place in the journal.{{/GM}}

What a welcome sight. Have you found anything?
Not too much. How about you?
{{GM}}A slow smile spreads across her cheeks. She nods.{{/GM}}

This mind-numbing tedium is starting to pay off. Check this out: the dreams that everyone's having - they aren't really dreams. They're *omens.*

From what I've gathered, we're walking a fine line here. They're pretty dangerous. Attempts to interpret them could lead to mixed results.
Let's have a look at your wares.
What do you mean by "omens"?
How are they dangerous?
Can *you* interpret the dreams?
See you soon.
You know. Omens. Harbingers of doom and gloom and bad things to come.

{{GM}}Her mouth twists to the side as she thinks.{{/GM}}

Just a minute.
{{GM}}Crafty opens a drawer behind the counter and brings out a dictionary. Clears her throat.{{/GM}}

Omen: a sign that warns of future events by way of visionary creatures or hallucinations.

{{GM}}She closes the book with a thump.{{/GM}}
What causes them?
Why are they happening *here*?
And that means...?
Apparently these sorts of portents are commonly linked with malign places and disaster sites. They're caused by leakage through wounds between our world and the astral plane.
Okay, great. That means we can seal them, right?
What's causing these wounds? Can we stop it?
This is bad. Real bad. We've got to find a way to fix this.
I'm not sure we can. At least, I haven't found anything about that in my mother's texts yet.

{{GM}}She lays a hand flat on the countertop and leans forward.{{/GM}}

We don't want to dive into this haphazardly, $(l.name). Remember, these omens can be dangerous.
{{GM}}She holds up a finger and starts digging around for another text. After a moment, she locates a small notepad and flips to a dog-eared page.{{/GM}}

In here it says these visions, or dreams or whatever you want to call them, are real. They're open to interpretation, but interpreting them incorrectly can be disastrous, since astral space is a place of dream logic. Taking the things you see too literally can be even more dangerous than ignoring them.
So whatever we do - interpret or ignore - we're inviting trouble.
That puts us in a pretty crappy situation.
Sounds like the best outcome would be for us to interpret a dream *correctly.*
You've got it. The slim chance we have to dig for some sort of meaning is through interpretation. But it's not easy to interpret a dream, and it's even more difficult to separate the nonsense from the substance.
You're telling me. It's not easy to interpret a dream, and it's even more difficult to separate the nonsense from the substance.
Using that term loosely, yes. But there's no real "correct" way to interpret a dream, and it's difficult to separate the nonsense from the substance.
{{GM}}Crafty plunks the notepad on top of a nearby book tower.{{/GM}}

I can't help you interpret your dreams. Whatever they're trying to impart, it's beyond me.

All I can do is keep reading. There has to be *something* in this library that can help us understand what's happening.
Keep it up. Every bit helps.
We'll get to the bottom of this. You'll see.
We're already making strides. Thanks, Crafty.
{{GM}}She stifles a yawn.{{/GM}}

Yep. I'm on it.
One can only hope.
I do my best.

{{GM}}She smiles tiredly, the bags under her eyes exaggerated by the gesture.{{/GM}}
I'll be here.
Nothing new to report, $(l.name). You're welcome to take a look around if you're here for supplies.
A heavy scent buffets your senses: the scent of pure, unadulterated book. Woody, musky, dusty. The light, herbal incense from before seems like an afterthought in the wake of paper smell.

Looking around, you see that the shopkeeper has abandoned her earlier feeble attempts at organizing the texts. Several of the towers of books are now reduced to piles on the ground.

A piece of paper, caught somehow in a ceiling rafter, rustles gently above you.
Hello? Anyone home?
Crafty! You in?
Pizza delivery!
{{GM}}You hear a shuffling of papers. An arms rolls out from under a pile of blankets and books, and Crafty raises her head, a notebook spread open on top of it.

The book topples to the floor.{{/GM}}

Oh. Hey.

{{GM}}Her voice cracks.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Crafty clears her throat with a cough and stumbles out of her pile. Her voice is clear when she speaks again.{{/GM}}

Sorry about the mess. I was up all night reading. Or, rather... up every night, reading.

{{GM}}She stretches.{{/GM}}
Let me see what you're selling.
You look dog tired. Feeling all right?
So, what's the latest?
Think you could send me a copy of those notes?
I'll let you get back to it.
Need anything else?
{{GM}}Crafty lets out a single, sharp laugh.{{/GM}}

I've been better, if that's what you mean.

Going through these notebooks has been hard. Not just because of the sheer amount of information... It's been a nostalgic ride, too.
Why don't you take a break?
Maybe you should try doing something else for a while.
If these journals are kicking your ass, you can always stop. Your health comes first.
No way, I've dug myself too deep to back out now. And I don't say that as a bad thing - I've made progress. I'm proud of that.

{{GM}}She leans on a book-covered chair.{{/GM}}

The sooner I figure out these dreams, the sooner I can rest. And trust me, $(l.name), I'll make up for it in spades - and naps.
Just don't work yourself to death.
If that's your plan, remember to pace yourself. You won't get anything done if you become sick.
I've no doubt your determination will get you through this.
That wouldn't achieve much, would it? And it isn't all bad. These journals are just as exciting as they are laborious.
You make a good point. I appreciate the advice, but don't worry, it's not a total slog. These journals are just as exciting as they are laborious.
{{GM}}She crinkles her nose at your words.{{/GM}}.

You sound like my grandparents when you talk like that.

But, hey, I appreciate the sentiment. And don't worry, it's not a total slog. These journals are just as exciting as they are laborious.
The latest...

{{GM}}She walks over to a glass table and starts tossing books off of it. As she digs through them, you realize the table is not actually a table, but a glass display case full of dried medicinal ingredients.

Crafty withdraws a notebook from the pile, its binding unraveling, the pages holding on for dear life.{{/GM}}
Here we go. This one's loaded.
Give me the highlights.
With what?
The suspense is killing me.
Got a couple big finds.

Mom's notes are a mess, so I boiled them down to the most important information. An exorcism, and the Yama Kings.

Where do you want to start?
Tell me about the exorcism.
I'd like to know about the Yama Kings.
{{GM}}She flips through the notebook and, after locating the right page, lays the book on the counter. Her index finger glides across the notes as she summarizes its contents.{{/GM}}

On one of Mom's trips to the Walled City, she decided to check out an archway. An old, crumbling relic that residents believed to be haunted. Mom wasn't sure about the hauntings, but upon entering the area, she immediately felt that it was a place of concentrated qi.
I know someone who's mentioned that same arch. She's from the Walled City.
The qi wasn't like your standard, run-of-the-mill energy. Even for the Walled City, this qi was exceptionally dark, and it all seemed to gravitate toward the arch.

So she did what any kook of her magic brand would try. A Taoist exorcism.
How did that go?
Not my first choice...
Did something explode?
It went to hell. The exorcism failed, and something happened to her. She broke.

{{GM}}Crafty takes a deep breath through her nose.{{/GM}}

My mother had entered the city strong, confident, and capable. But when she left that day...
It's hard to explain. It's as if the experience left her vulnerable to those base horrors within the Walled City.

She grew paranoid, and became frail of mind and body. A mere shadow of her former self.
It's as if she'd witnessed something... and it changed her. She became more obsessed than ever, and that's how I remember her now. As that broken woman.

I'm not sure how this fits into our investigation, but if that sort of malevolence is coursing through the Walled City, it's no wonder the people who live there experience such terrible dreams.
Nor mine. But it was my mother's.

Now, don't get me wrong - Mom's methods may have been dated, but she was a skilled mage. Unfortunately...

The exorcism failed. And with its failure, something happened to her. She broke. My mother had entered the city strong, confident, and capable. But when she left that day...
You could say that.

The exorcism failed, and something happened to her. She broke. My mother had entered the city strong, confident, and capable. But when she left that day...
{{GM}}Crafty looks up from the notebook.{{/GM}}

I'd believe that. It's a fairly prominent landmark. Seems to me like most people from the Walled City would at least have heard of it, if not seen it.

What did she say?
I can boil it down to "creepy."
Nothing good.
Just a bunch of superstitious dribble about spirits.
Yeah. I'd have to agree with you there. At least, from what my mother wrote, it was a seriously bad.
So, what happened next?
Didn't mean to interrupt. Where were we?
I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss your friend's story. From what my mother wrote, it's clear the arch wasn't just a scary tale. It was legitimately, well... *bad.*
{{GM}}Crafty turns to a page marked with a red sticky note. She looks up at you.{{/GM}}

Tell me, how much do you know about the Yama Kings?
Only what I've heard here and there.
I've run across stories about them in my own research.
Never heard of 'em.
Personally, I'd only heard about the Yama Kings in fables and myths. Things to scare children to sleep. To inspire awe.

As you can guess, intimate knowledge about imaginary beings is largely nonexistent. And here...

{{GM}}She taps the page.{{/GM}}

...We've found the demons of the Walled City.
Through my mother's excursions into the slum, she came to learn that its residents had their own unique Yama Kings, different from the traditional ones.

The people there are segregated from the rest of Hong Kong. Over time, they came to believe that their home was possessed by local demons. Makes sense, considering the place's penchant for crime and disaster.
Yeah, I'll buy that.
Interesting. What were they like?
Do their Yama Kings have names?
There were three that Mom knew of: Lam Vy, Fu Mang, and Qian Ya. Each Yama King is associated with the negative energy on which they feed.

Lam Vy feeds from cowards. Fu Mang, from the guilty. And Qian Ya, slaves.
Unfortunately, my mother's handwriting declined with her sanity.

{{GM}}She rubs her forehead in frustration.{{/GM}}

She has a lot of details in here about these local Yama Kings, but I could only make out bits and parts.
There's a list. Something here about...

{{GM}}Her mouth twists sideways and her eyes squint, straining to read the notes.{{/GM}}

Rules? Maybe laws of some sort. The thing that stood out to me is here.

{{GM}}She plops a finger onto the page.{{/GM}}
It's about the propriety surrounding ownership in deals, exchanges, negotiations... luncheons? No, that last part can't be right...

Anyway, it says the Yama Kings, under rules or laws, must adhere to the terms of a deal. They can't give an inch without losing everything.

{{GM}}She sighs and flips the paper onto the counter.{{/GM}}

Can't read anything past that.
You know, it's strange to me that Mom found these mystical beings significant enough to mention in her documents. It makes me wonder if she thought they were real, or connected to the curse that she believed in.

{{GM}}A thump, and Crafty closes the notebook. She casually tosses it back onto the display case.{{/GM}}

It's not the best lead, but I think that it's a step in the right direction.
{{GM}}Crafty taps her finger to her nose.{{/GM}}

Already a step ahead of you. I just finished digitally transcribing the information. I'll send it your way, uh...

{{GM}}She looks around the book-covered shop.{{/GM}}

...soon as I find my terminal.
That'll be great. 'Preciate it.
Don't keep me waiting.
You'd best expect to with that attitude.

{{GM}}She leans forward. Locks eyes with you.{{/GM}}

A "thank you" and "please," and I'll consider it.
...Fine. Thankyouplease.
My bad. Thanks, Crafty. Will you please send me those notes?
Thanks. Now could I get those transcriptions? *Please*?
You're welcome. Expect them soon.
Sounds like a plan. See you soon.
{{GM}}You hear a shuffling of papers, and a head pops out of a pile of blankets and books.{{/GM}}

I'll take it! Over here!

{{GM}}Her eyes fall on you. She slumps back into the pile, disappointed.{{/GM}}

*You're* not pizza.
Nope.
Sorry about that.
No. It sure helped me find you, though.
{{GM}}She mumbles something inaudible, then pulls herself up.{{/GM}}

You owe me for that one.

{{GM}}She glances around the place.{{/GM}}

Ah. Sorry about the mess. I was up all night reading. Or, rather... up every night, reading.
Welcome back. Need something?
A sight, unexpected from the window's slapdash product displays, strikes you as you walk through the shop.

Everything is... clean. Unusually clean.

Not spotless - a nearby food plate resting atop a small collection of books speaks to that. But, otherwise, the piles of journals and notebooks and books from before are, for the most part, on shelves. Organized.
The shopkeeper is nowhere to be seen. You don't remember whether an open sign was on the front door, but the handle turned easily enough. Someone must be here.

You approach the front counter and see a service bell.
{{GM}}Ring the bell.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}You hear a thump, followed by a loud, "Shit!"

Crafty leaps up from behind the counter rubbing the top of her head, a duster in her other hand.

Her eyes widen when she sees you.{{/GM}}

$(l.name).
I'd like to see what you've got in stock.
Wow, you've been busy. I feel like I've walked into another dimension.
Then everything that's happened in the Walled City - it's been the Yama Kings all along?
This is big, Crafty. Huge.
I need to take care of some things on my end. You take care of things on yours.
That all?
{{GM}}Crafty waves your comment away.{{/GM}}

I was... getting hounded by some of my regular patrons. And maybe a sanitation officer or two.

{{GM}}You see the urgency in her eyes as she leans forward.{{/GM}}

That doesn't matter. $(l.name), I found it - the thing we've been searching for. I know what's happening inside the Walled City.
Is everything okay?
Well? What is it?
No. Definitely not.

{{GM}}She takes a breath.{{/GM}}

The Yama Kings - they're *real.*
Whoa, now. That's a big leap from imaginary monsters...
Crafty... I'm thinking that your mother's research has rattled your judgment.
You're off your rocker.
{{GM}}Crafty's eyes hold your gaze with an unshakable intensity.{{/GM}}

I'm serious.

You know me. I'm the last person to start believing in Santa Claus, much less my mother's ravings. But this is solid.
The Yama Kings are real, and they're coming.

{{GM}}She lays her palms flat on the counter, almost breathless.{{/GM}}

They've been on their way to the Walled City since the place was built. The dreams... they're portents of their coming - omens *manifested* as dreams.
I'm not convinced.
You really believe that?
Still...
Just think about it.

The strange things we've been dreaming. The sensations. The *hunger.* Asleep or awake, it affects us all the time, anywhere.

The connection? We're all in or near the Walled City, itself a beacon for disaster. Something... or some*things*... have noticed the city. And now we're noticing them.
{{GM}}She takes a breath.{{/GM}}

The Yama Kings - they're *real.*
Crafty... I've think your mother's research has rattled your judgment.
Not quite. I don't think the Yama Kings are the cause of the Walled City's corruption. They're the effect. Something in the Walled City has so polluted the feng shui of the place that it's acting as a magnet for malevolent astral beings.
Mom was right. There's something at work in the Walled City. I don't know if it's a curse, or... something else. But there's something deeply unnatural at work in that place.

{{GM}}Her words shake.{{/GM}}

I'm so sorry, Mother. I thought I was closing my eyes to your madness, but all I did was prevent myself from seeing the truth. From seeing what was unfolding right in front of me.
Can the Yama Kings leave the Walled City?
Are these beings what broke your mother?
Let's backtrack for a moment.
Why would they?

The curse, or whatever it is that's attracting the Yama Kings to the Walled City, has turned the city into an ideal hunting ground.
{{GM}}With a practiced sweep of her hand, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. A foggy hand print slowly disappears from the counter where her hand was pressed.{{/GM}}

Have you ever heard of terraforming? It's an old science fiction idea. You make a planet, like the moon or something, into an earthlike environment to support human habitation.

That's what's happening in the Walled City, only in reverse, and on an astral level.
I think that pent-up, toxic qi in the Walled City is turning the place into an extension of the Yama Kings' home plane, making the environment there hospitable for them. They won't range beyond it for the same reason why you wouldn't leave a bathysphere in the deep ocean.

But, as we've seen, that corruption is spreading. It's already starting to seep into Heoi. If left unchecked for another thirty, forty years, who knows what might happen.
The Yama Kings weren't directly responsible for Mom's corruption. It was caused by the root problem - that which attracted the Yama Kings to the city in the first place. The poison at the bottom of the well. Whatever it is, it's been there from the very beginning, and it's in no way natural. *People* did this.
I suppose we can take some comfort in knowing that your mother was under the influence of something else. She wasn't herself.
Your mother sacrificed a lot for her research.
At least now you know what happened to her.
I know where you're coming from, $(l.name). But my mother still allowed herself to be corrupted. She put herself in the way of evil, and it took her. Not a second thought for anyone else.

Her research has given us valuable resources. I'm glad these journals - these pieces of her mind - can be used to arm ourselves against the Yama Kings. The knowledge it's given us will help in the trials to come.
{{GM}}At your words, an unusual mood washes over Crafty. She raises her hands and grips her tattooed arms, hugging her chest.{{/GM}}

Please, $(l.name). You have to stop it - this evil. For yourself, for my mother... for every man, woman, and child in the Walled City and Heoi.

Nobody outside of our community will care about this. They've already written people like us off. If what's happening here is to be undone, *we* have to be the ones to undo it.
Of course. This city is just as important to me as it is to you. I'll do whatever I can to stop the Yama Kings.
Let me think about it.
{{GM}}You watch her grip relax. Her shoulders ease.{{/GM}}

Thank you. Really. *Thank you.*
{{GM}}She continues to hold herself tight, but the tension in the air lessens. She exhales.{{/GM}}

Thank you.
{{GM}}You can see her holding herself back. Her mouth tenses into a straight line.{{/GM}}

Things have been escalating, and fast. Think about it if you have to, but remember what's at stake if you choose to stand by.
Will do. Good luck, $(l.name).
She looks at you through weary eyes.

You're back. Forget something?
{{GM}}The familiar sight of clutter greets you, as if the shop's earlier attempt at organization were just a phase. Unrolled scrolls, that musky paper scent, and a light buildup of dust on the bookshelves. Cramped, but comfortable in only the way the Five Phases could be.

A content Crafty stands behind the store counter, focusing on something in her hands. A sketchbook. She's drawing. She glances up and smiles widely.{{/GM}}

Hey, you.
How are things?
Man, I had the best dream last night...
See you around, Crafty.
Holler if you need something else.
Things are good. Well, better.

The dreams are gone, and that's a burden and a half lifted from me. I've set aside my mother's journals. I'm sleeping again... Well, trying to.
{{GM}}She shakes her head. Shrugs tiredly.{{/GM}}

But things don't really feel *normal,* yet. I've learned things that have changed me. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel.

Maybe it's like a wound, and a bandage isn't going to fix it. It needs to heal.
Guess I was just hoping that once all this was over with, life would go on like it had before.

{{GM}}She stares at you.{{/GM}}
Y'know, $(l.name), the course of my life changed partly because of you. And I don't mean that in a bad way. Really, I'm happy with my part in all this... that I could help you out, if even a little.
You know, your mother's journals played a big role in all this.
I guess we have your mother to thank for that.
Give your mom a little credit.
I admit... I'm frustrated. It's so easy to say that in retrospect. I didn't know what was going on - I couldn't understand it. But she was still selfish to put her research above her family.
She was also the reason we were able to unearth the evil secrets of that city. The monsters inside it. She helped us understand them, and in so doing, their weaknesses.

{{GM}}She lets out a long breath.{{/GM}}

Thank you, Mother.
{{GM}}A timid smile creeps into her expression, but the real smile dances inside her candlelit eyes.{{/GM}}

Thank *you,* $(l.name).
It's been an honor, Crafty.
You deserve just as much credit as I do. More, even.
Like you, I was just doing what I had to do.
{{GM}}She waves her hand.{{/GM}}

All right, all right, let's not devolve into a bunch of doughy thankfuls. We made a good team. Let's leave it at that.
Yeah. That sounds about right.

{{GM}}She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear.{{/GM}}

We made a good team. Let's leave it at that.
{{GM}}She holds her index finger up to your face.{{/GM}}

Do you want to know what I think about dreams right now?
{{GM}}Her index finger peels down and is replaced with her middle finger.{{/GM}}

This.
{{GM}}She drops her hand.{{/GM}}

I am *done* with dreams. Discussing them, researching them, *having* them... Thankfully I've been so tired lately that when I'm asleep, I'm out. It's a world of blackness, and it's wonderful.
Do me a favor and never bring up those horrible things again. I don't care if you dreamt you were in a cradle full of kittens - tell it to someone else.
Sounds fair.
I have no problem with that arrangement. I'm pretty sick of them, myself.
You can't hide from dreams forever.
{{GM}}She smirks playfully.{{/GM}}

I'm glad we understand each other.
{{GM}}She smirks playfully.{{/GM}}

Well, after what we've been through, that's a given. I'm sure the rest of Heoi would agree.
You're right. I can't. But for now, I will damn well do what I please, and that means no dreams, no way, no how. Got it?
Good.

{{GM}}She smirks playfully.{{/GM}}

I'm glad we understand each other.
Welcome back. Here to buy, or here to chat?
Good to see you. Need something?
Back so soon? Tell me what'cha need, and I'll see what I can do.
Hey, there.

Still don't have any new information on the Yama Kings or the dreams. I think we're going to have to wait and see how things shake out.
Hey, there. You looking to buy something, or just feeling social?
The air is thicker in here. Acrid. The stench clings to your tongue, sticks in the back of your throat.

It smells like damp cardboard and stale urine.
Gobbet surveys the room warily, her nose crinkling in disgust.

She produces the napkin with Cadmus' instructions from her breast pocket and hands them to you.
There y'go, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). You know what to do.

{{GM}}Under her breath, you hear her muttering.{{/GM}}

Let's hope that Yaz knows her stuff.
{{GM}}Gobbet surveys the room warily, her nose crinkling in disgust.{{/GM}}

Well, that's foul.

Don't go any further into the room, either of you. We don't know how to disarm the trap yet.
Hang on, I just want to take a look.
{{GM}}Back away.{{/GM}} Yeah... let's get out of here.
The flooring here is a patchwork of metal scrap that creaks beneath your feet.

With each step you can feel it flex, struggling to accommodate your weight.
{{GM}}Walk further into the room.{{/GM}}
You take a step forward, then another.

Nothing seems to happen.
{{GM}}Gobbet hisses at you.{{/GM}}

Get back here, you idiot! The trap is still armed!
The room stands empty in front of you.

There's nothing stopping you from continuing onward if you want to.
Following the grease pencil diagram, you locate a hunk of metal flooring with a slightly raised edge.

Hooking your fingers under it, you lift to reveal a hidden access panel.
That's a good sign.
{{GM}}Follow Yasmin's instructions to disarm the trap.{{/GM}}
The instructions are surprisingly easy to follow.

Three snips with your pocketknife and a rewired connection later, the floor-spanning trapdoor has been disarmed.
Well. That was easy!

{{GM}}She beams at you.{{/GM}}

Go on, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)... you take the lead. You've earned it.
Gee, thanks.
Don't mind if I do.
The trap room is empty and ominous, just as it was the first time you encountered it. It is also just as pungent.
Strato-9 Mk. 2
A old Lone Star hoverdrone that is equipped with a semi-automatic turret.
Haste III
Increases the friendly target's AP by 1 for 4 RNDS. Shares a cooldown with other Haste spells.
Transys Neuronet Skillwires
A simple skillwire system designed to give the user more control over aiming thrown weapons. Passive: +1 Throwing Weapons.
Spread Shot
One shot. Can hit adjacent targets at ranges of 3 or greater. Spread increases at 6.
Steel Lynx Mk. 2
Offers ground-based firepower. 'It's like having another runner on the team.'
Cyberskull (Synthetic)
This complete skull replacement grants added protection without sacrificing the user's appearance. Passive: +1 Armor.
Ardent Phoenix
Melee: Runes have been etched into this katana, capable of producing flames when striking a target. On Crit, will ignite the target for 5-7 additional DMG.
Haste II
Increases the friendly target's AP by 1 for 3 RNDS. Shares a cooldown with other Haste spells.
Manual Focusing
Racter manually aims Koschei's optics, increasing Koschei's accuracy by 8-12% for 1 RND.
Focused Optics: Accuracy +12%
Focused Optics: Accuracy +10%
Focused Optics: Accuracy +8%
The subterranean access way opens to one of the Wuxing Skytower's few employee-only entrances. As the only underground access point to Wuxing's restricted levels, security is tight. No one reaches the upper floors who shouldn't.
The client, through Kindly, was only able to provide you with a front-door ID. The spoofed credentials won't get you farther than that, but the client suggested that there may be other ways to bypass the check-in system inside the building.
{{GM}}A sturdy Wuxing security officer peers at you from behind his desk console.{{/GM}}

Evening, $(l.sir). Swipe yourself in.

{{GM}}He gestures to the ID scanner in front of him.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Swipe spoofed credentials.{{/GM}}
Crap. I forgot my credentials at home...
{{GM}}He looks at his console, then back at you.{{/GM}}

Ok, looks to be in order. Just remember, you can only access floors ten and below during these night hours.
Yeah, thanks.
{{GM}}He looks at his console, then back at you. His eyebrows rise as he observes your company.{{/GM}}

You realize your credentials only allow *you* access through floor ten, right?
{{CC}}Charisma: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Easy){{/CC}} Of course. I have new credentials waiting for me with extended coverage. That's why I'm entering here - to pick them up.
It's very important they come with me.
I can't work without them.
{{GM}}The officer nods curtly.{{/GM}}

Right. Go ahead and grab your new creds at the check-in terminal.

Have a good night, $(l.sir).
{{GM}}The officer straightens up, caution overtaking his features.{{/GM}}

And why is that?
This is my team. You can't expect me to work unassisted!
They've just joined my crew. I'm escorting them to a new hires meeting.
'Cause I'll need help wasting this corporate monster.
If you received authorization for your crew prior to today, then you can pick up their credentials at the check-in terminal. Long as they're cleared, you're good to go.

{{GM}}He hesitates, looking you and yours over.{{/GM}}

They *are* cleared, right?
Definitely.
No, but I'll get them cleared when we check in.
Maybe?
Can't let them through on a maybe. You're welcome to enter, but your crew will have to hang back until you know of their clearance status.
Ah. Then I'm afraid they can't pass. You're welcome through, but your crew will have to hang back until they're cleared.
What!?

{{GM}}He balks, stumbling over his own surprise before slamming the alarm on his desk.{{/GM}}

Intruders!
{{GM}}The officer looks at you through weary eyes. He lets out a small sigh.{{/GM}}

Does that look like my problem? No card, no entry. It's simple.
{{GM}}Swipe spoofed credentials.{{/GM}} Shit, here it is! It was just lost in my jacket. Sorry.
Got it, I'll be back.
Come back with the card or not at all!
Hey! Where are you going?
I forgot my credentials. Be right back.
The scramble up the side of the Sinking Ship was treacherous. You hauled yourself up over the edge with your heart hammering in your chest, clawing for purchase against the wind and the driving rain.

Walking on the surface deck isn't much better.
The steel that you're standing on is slick, sheeted with water from the rainstorm that hammers down from above. Every time you shift your weight, you can feel your feet begin to slide.

There are no safety rails in sight. A slip, a rogue wave... it wouldn't take much to send you screaming over the edge of the raft and into the dark water below.
This thing is a wreck.

{{GM}}Is0bel gingerly prods at a rusted section of the container that you're standing on with her boot. It depresses easily, with entirely too much give.{{/GM}}

I can't believe that Gobbet ever chose to live here.
I'm sure that it's nicer on the inside.
What'd you expect? You've seen her cabin on the $(story.Global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName).
From her descriptions of the Sinking Ship, I didn't expect it to be this bad.
Pretty sure that's wishful thinking.

{{GM}}She prods the patch of rust again, frowning. The steel flakes under her foot.{{/GM}}

Truth is, what we're seeing here doesn't even fit.
The lady in charge of this thing... Malinda, or whatever her name was... was supposed to be some sort of control freak. And Gobbet always talked her pal Cadmus up as a top-quality repair guy.

This thing look like it's in good repair to you?
No. But we don't know--
I take it that was a rhetorical que--
There's no guarantee that those two are even ali--
A sudden gust of wind buffets you, sending you sliding. Is0bel drops to a crouch, clinging to the metal with gloved hands to keep herself from slipping.
{{GM}}She looks up. Locks her dark eyes on you.{{/GM}}

We should get moving. It's dangerous up here, and my gear is getting soaked.
Agreed. Let's find Gobbet and make sure she's all right.
Finding Gobbet's friends Cadmus and Malvina might be a good place to start.
I'm gonna kill Gobbet for dragging us into this.
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

You take the lead. I'll follow.
As long as you do it on dry land.

C'mon. Let's go.
That's... fair. This is still worse, though.

{{GM}}She prods the patch of rust again. The steel flakes under her foot.{{/GM}}

At least her cabin isn't falling apart.
Truth is, what we're seeing here doesn't even fit.

The lady in charge of this thing... Malinda, or whatever her name was... was supposed to be some sort of control freak. And Gobbet always talked her pal Cadmus up as a top-quality repair guy.
{{GM}}She prods the patch of rust again, frowning. The steel flakes under her foot.{{/GM}}

This thing look like it's in good repair to you?
Yeah. She always told me that the lady in charge... what was her name? Malinda?
Something like that.
Malvina.
Beats me. I wasn't paying attention.
Yeah... she'd always told me that Malinda - or whoever - was a control freak. That she'd been obsessed with order and cleanliness. And her pal Cadmus was supposed to be a top-quality repair guy.
She'd always told me that Malvina was a control freak, all obsessed with order and cleanliness. And Cadmus was supposed to be a top-quality repair guy.

{{GM}}She prods the patch of rust again, frowning. The steel flakes under her foot.{{/GM}}

This thing look like it's in good repair to you?
I don't either half the time, but Gobbet likes to repeat stories. It's part of her charm.

Anyway, this friend of hers - the Brit with the M-name - was supposed to be a control freak. Gobbet always said that she was obsessed with order and cleanliness. And her pal Cadmus was supposed to be a top-quality repair guy.
The guard shack at the end of the pier is dark and empty. Duncan gives the gate a push, but it doesn't budge. La cabane du gardien à la fin de la jetée est sombre et vide. Duncan pousse la porte, mais elle ne bouge pas d'un pouce.
Huh. Well, that was open earlier.

{{GM}}Duncan frowns.{{/GM}}

Looks pretty solid. 		Huh. Eh bien, c'était ouvert tout à l'heure.

{{GM}}Duncan fronce les sourcils.{{/GM}}

Ca semble assez solide.
Shouldn't there be someone here to let us out, or something? Il ne devrait pas y avoir quelqu'un ici pour nous laisser sortir, ou un truc du genre?
Guess we'll have to find another way to reach the plaza. Je suppose qu'on va devoir trouver un autre moyen pour rejoindre la place.
Maybe if you bang your head against it hard enough, it'll open. Peut être que si tu te frappes la tête contre assez fort, ca va s'ouvrir.
Yeah... smells a little funny, don't it? Ouais... plutôt marrant, non?
{{GM}}Carter shrugs.{{/GM}}

Who knows. It's Hong Kong. Not exactly sure how things work around here.		 {{GM}}Carter hausse les épaules.{{/GM}}

Qui sait. C'est Hong Kong. On ne sait pas exactement comment les choses fonctionnent ici.
C'mon, Rookie. We can cut through the construction site. Allez, le bleu. Nous pouvons couper à travers le site de construction.
I hate it when you call me that. Je déteste quand tu m'appelles comme ça.
Guess so. Strange that there's no one here though, isn't it? J'imagine. Etrange quand même qu'il n'y ait personne ici, non?
Hah. Maybe.

{{GM}}He squints into the guard shack.{{/GM}}

Strange that there's no one here though, isn't it?		 Hah. Peut être.

{{GM}}Il plisse les yeux vers la cabane du gardien.{{/GM}}

Etrange quand même qu'il n'y ait personne ici, non?
This simsense machine has been left unlocked for restocking. There's a packaged data chip still in the tray.
{{GM}}Steal the chip.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Tigath pulls out a handkerchief, wiping off his hands..{{/GM}}

Good riddance. What an awful little man.
{{GM}}Turning toward you, the elf inclines his head.{{/GM}}

Shall we finish this, then? You give me the goods, and I will wire you your fee when I'm safely away.
{{GM}}Tigath takes the samples and data from you, nodding in satisfaction.{{/GM}}

A pleasure, $(l.name). I will be certain to recommend you to anyone who asks after reliable freelancers.

Good evening.
{{GM}}Tigath's mouth twists into a sneer.{{/GM}}

Well, then. What are you waiting for?

I'll just take the items from your corpse.
Magic Resistance 2
Fireball I
A fiery explosion that also does ongoing -6 HP for 1 RND. Shares a cooldown with other Fireball spells.
Big Wave
Target gains +2 Dodge. Lasts 3 RNDS.
Big Wave: Dodge +2
Shiawase Bone Lacing, Plastic
Shiawase's bone lacing process sheaths a user's skeletal system in a layer of anti-ballistic plastic. Passive: +1 Body.
Hydraulic Jack Mk 2
A retooled version of the basic hydraulic jack that can boost a user's sprinting speed to an incredible degree. When triggered, adds +4 Movement. Lasts 1 RND. Cost: 0 AP. Cooldown: 6.
Hydraulic Jack: Movement +4
Celestial Mana Fist
A powerful magical 'punch' that pierces up to 8 Armor. Shares a cooldown with other Mana Fist spells.
Pack Tactics
Dante leads the pack! Allies within a range of 3 gain +1 Movement. Lasts 2 RND.
Pack Tactics: Movement +1
Sweeping Shot
Two attacks in one action. May hit adjacent characters. Uses 6 bullets.
Strato-9 Mk. 2 Assault
A old Lone Star hoverdrone that has been given a close-range weapon upgrade.
You see an assortment of items scattered on the cart. But you find a badge that belongs to a maintenance worker.
Notes are stacked neatly around. Ordered and clear.

A number is circled several times on one sheet.

8-4-8-4
A protoype weapon sits locked in a stand. It's locking mechanisms are seemingly tied into the weapons operation and safety. Forcing it could damage the weapon.
BAD QI
The subway flies over the tracks toward Abeerdeen. Monsoon humidity clings to your skin, as if it's followed you from Heoi. Or perhaps it's simply sunk this far into the earth, penetrating stone and machine, rousing the acrid smells of Hong Kong's underground in its wake.

You've been handed a promising job - geomantic sabotage - with a single objective: disrupt the flow of Wuxing qi to destabilize the corporation. Your client is especially keen on the idea of Wuxing's famed geomancy being used against it. The ultimate humiliation.

While the corporation's office spaces are free game, the main target is Wuxing's treasured lotus statue, which resides within a temple on the topmost floor of the monolithic building. Your client's instructions are clear. The more damage you do, the worse the qi, and the better the pay.
Secuirty Officer
Security Officer
Maintenance Employee
Wuxing Employee
Employee
Player 2
Player 3
Basement_InvisibleActor1
Basement_InvisibleActor2
Temple_InvisibleActor3
Temple_InvisibleActor4
Wuxing Geomancer
Perform Geomantic Sabotage
Gain Access to Executive Offices
Gain Access to Temple
Disrupt Qi in the Offices
Disrupt the flow of Qi 50%
Disrupt the flow of Qi 75%
Disrupt the flow of Qi 100%
Disrupt Qi in the Temple
Escape the Wuxing Skytower
Eliminate the Wuxing Geomantic Security
Shock Glove
Unarmed: An armored glove. DMG: Strength + 2. May do AP DMG on critical hits. Allows for an enhanced Stun attack on a 2 RND cooldown.
Killer 3.0
A powerful attack program directed at one target, doing -125 IP DMG.
HMHVV Infected Claws
Adept ninja outfit.
Magpie's Keycard
A keycard to Magpie's shop, The Jackpoint.
The team hustles Raymond onto a subway car, quietly taking up defensive positions and scoping the platform for signs of pursuit. The old man is unsteady on his feet but insists on standing under his own power. He grabs a railing and holds on with white knuckles as the train lurches forward.

A group of tourists sit nearby, staring at him and exchanging meaningful glances.
Your crew looks over the old man with the bandaged on the back of his head, exchanging meaningful expressions. Raymond squints at the odd group surrounding him but his nod indicates he understands that he is among friends.
Wu drags his goggles off his head, bending his knees to get a better look at his foster-father. A tangled knot of relief, compassion, resentment, and hurt churns across the younger man's face as he wrestles with his confused emotions.
{{GM}}Fear for his father's health overcomes them all.{{/GM}}

Raymond?
{{GM}}Raymond turns his head towards Wu's voice. His eyes are cloudy but there's reassurance in his tone.{{/GM}}

Duncan. I'm all right. I'm still me.

{{GM}}He fights to focus.{{/GM}}

Are we in a subway?
{{GM}}Wu exhales big.{{/GM}}

Yeah, we're in a subway. You're safe.

{{GM}}He drags his attention away from the old man. Looks at you.{{/GM}}

What happened? Is he okay?
We got to him in time. He's just exhausted.
Far as I can tell, yeah.
{{CC}}Biotech: 3{{/CC}} There's no way to know without extensive testing in a proper facility. We aborted invasive brain surgery and he's been suffering from visions and nightmares for a long time.
{{GM}}Fear for his father's health overcomes them.{{/GM}}

Raymond. Are you all right, little man?
I fought... against the reprogramming.

{{GM}}The old man's voice is little more than a soft croak. His eyes are sunken and surrounded by dark circles.{{/GM}}
His mother's medical technology must be amazing. It's hard to believe he's walking under his own power so soon after the surgery.
Yeah, well grandma's an amazing woman - her high-tech brain surgery, her ownership of the cops, her execution of my partner and those runners.

{{GM}}Wu's face hardens and stands up straight, glaring down at the older man.{{/GM}}

Oh, and the way she had the Plastic-Faced Man snatch her own *son.*

Amazing woman.
She's a real piece of work, no doubt about it.
Easy, Duncan.
Let's just get some answers.
Yeah, tell me about it.

Apparently, her son is too.
{{GM}}Pain and bitterness drip from Wu's deep raspy voice.{{/GM}}

This man, *whoever* he is, has a lot of explaining to do.

Are you ready to start telling us the truth, *Edward?*
{{GM}}The old man tilts his head up to the ork towering above him, and although exhausted, his jaw sets firm.{{/GM}}

Yes, Duncan... I'm ready to tell you everything.

I had planned to explain it all when you arrived in Hong Kong.
Yeah, our meeting was postponed due to kidnapping and murder.
Spill it old man. We deserve some answers.
We're here now, Ray.
{{GM}}The old man's mouth purses and his lips quiver for a moment but he regains control.{{/GM}}

I never believed it would come to that... that my mother was capable of...

{{GM}}He allows the thought to remain unfinished.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Raymond's mouth purses and his lips quiver for a moment but he regains control.{{/GM}}

Indeed... you have earned them.
The old man leans back on the wall of the subway car and gathers his thoughts. He seems to swoon for a moment but then inhales deeply, swallows hard, and pulls himself erect.
My name is Edward Tsang.

I'm the only son of Josephine Tsang, the CEO of Tsang Mechanical Services... heir to the company. Before I left Hong Kong, I... was the Vice President of Special Projects.

The up-and-coming star of the company.
If you were the golden boy, why did you leave Hong Kong?
Was Prosperity one of your special projects?
Is that why your mother kidnapped you? Because you were eclipsing her?
{{GM}}Raymond frowns, as if the taste of the words are bitter in his mouth.{{/GM}}

My division was shut down... disbanded. One of my projects... failed.
{{GM}}The tired old man's brow furrows.{{/GM}}

No. Quite the opposite. My mother had been grooming me to take her place since... the day I was born. She was tireless in her parenting. Sent me to the best schools... provided a background in the arts to insure I was well-rounded... hired the best tutors...

I had the best of the best... believed I *was* the best of the best.
No, $(l.firstname). My mother wanted me back... wanted me to take over the company. Be the person I was... trained to be.

But first, I needed to be... modified.

{{GM}}He lowers his head.{{/GM}}

I needed to forget about what happened.
Don't make me pull it out of you, Raymond. We've gone through a lot to get you here.
This is about Prosperity, isn't it?
Did you say modified? What does that mean?
Something you've never seen before washes over the tired old man's face. Shame.
You've heard of it. Prosperity.

I see.
{{GM}}Something you've never seen before washes over the tired old man's face. Shame.{{/GM}}

I lost face, long ago. She was attempting to modify my memories of the event.
You lost face? I find that hard to believe, Raymond.
Modify them how?
What event?
You only knew me... as the man I was in Seattle.

I was different once.
She was attempting... to alter my memory of an event.

One that happened over twenty years go.
{{GM}}Raymond takes a breath and the labored croak of his voice drops to a monotone.{{/GM}}

I was part of a project my mother envisioned... to re-build Kowloon Walled City.

A walking neighborhood for underprivileged citizens... fully-integrated, with job training programs... co-op childcare... drug counseling centers...
It was a new approach to low-income housing in the East… the *springboard to prosperity* for hundreds of thousands...
Yeah... that doesn't sound like the place I grew up in.
{{GM}}Raymond is twenty years away - doesn't seem to hear her.{{/GM}}

Mother personally oversaw every aspect of the project... to insure that every detail was executed properly. Chose each project manager herself, chaired regular status meetings with architects, builders... visited the work-site for surprise inspections.

She was driven to make her renewed, revitalized Walled City a success.
Yeah, well she didn't do too well with that whole prosperity thing, did she?
So, that was Prosperity? Another low-income housing project?
Not true. Mother's planning was excellent... but the Walled City wasn't the Prosperity project.

{{GM}}Raymond covers his eyes with a liver-spotted hand, the dread radiating from him like the stink of decayed meat.{{/GM}}

Prosperity... was something I built... at the *center* of the Walled City.
No. The Walled City wasn't the Prosperity project.

{{GM}}Raymond covers his eyes with a liver-spotted hand, the dread radiating from him like the stink of decayed meat.{{/GM}}

Prosperity... was something I built... at the *center* of the Walled City.
Then his hand drops, his eyes roll back in his head, and his face goes slack.
A moment later, an invisible grip takes hold of your chest, constricts it, squeezing the air from your lungs. Your vision grays from the edges and the world surges backward, leaving you suspended in the distance - on the periphery of reality.
Something is hurtling towards you, approaching from the fringe of your mind like a bullet train. It screams ahead, closer and closer, until it is upon you, overwhelming you with its presence.

And then, nothing. Silence.

Until a scream pierces your consciousness - pulls you screaming to its source.
You're back in the Walled City.

The City of Darkness.
You are here... and I am grateful for all you have done for me... all that you *needed* to do.

{{GM}}It's more than just exhaustion. The words are challenging for him to speak.{{/GM}}
Don't "Easy, Duncan" me, $(l.firstname). That was Carter's thing. Find something else to say when you think I'm on the edge.
Yeah, you're right. That's what I want more than anything.
This power conduit is labelled "Elevator Control and Power". A series of tangled cables and wires weave in and out of the junction box as if it's been patched and repairs made many times. A note is taped to the side of the box.
For god's sake, don't touch anything in here without contacting me first! This box is the most tempermental piece of crap I've ever worked with. If anything gets unplugged, the elevator system will go down, and take the security card readers with it! Why did we spend all that nuyen on improving security if everyone has to take the stairs?

-Lee
The drone could fairly easily rip out some of these cables, rendering the elevator and employee ID card readers inoperable until repaired.
{{GM}}Cut power to elevators.{{/GM}}
The drone tears out several of the elevator power and control cables, and a number of the diagnostic lights begin flashing red.

It looks like you're going to be taking the stairs for the time being.
Secure Shaman Clothing
Basic clothing for the shadowrunning shaman.
Cerebral Booster (Bioware)
Introduces additional convolutions and gyri into the frontal lobes of the cerebellum. Passive: +1 Intelligence.
Gaichu takes a bite out of his foe, restoring 8 HP over two rounds and gaining 1 Strength through the consumption of their flesh. +2 HP DMG, +1 AP DMG. Cooldown: 2.
Killer 1.0
A powerful attack program directed at one target, doing -75 IP DMG.
MP Laser IV Prototype
A prototype of the Ares MP Laser IV Portable. It is currently not in functional condition.
Fireball III
A fiery explosion that also does ongoing -8 HP for 2 RNDS. Shares a cooldown with other Fireball spells.
Killer 2.0
A powerful attack program directed at one target, doing -100 IP DMG.
Shiawase Bone Lacing, Kevlar
Shiawase's hi-tech alpha bone lacing uses a Kevlar coating to provide additional reinforcement and protection. Passive: +1 Body, +1 Strength.
Target Weapon
Disarms the enemy on a critical hit.
Lethal Force
Gain Item:
Nail Grenade
Duncan's standard equipment now includes a lethal, shrapnel filled grenade. Base DMG: 12, ongoing 4 DMG for 2 RNDs. Strips 1 Armor from affected targets.
Killing Hands (Passive)
Damage increased DMG by 3 HP.
Gain Cyberware: Shiawase Magnet Arm
Duncan has a magnetic cyber arm installed, allowing him to throw back incoming grenades.
Gain Ability: Mercy Kill.
Duncan gains an assault rifle ability that has a 99% chance to hit an enemy who has less than 15% HP remaining. +2 DMG. Cooldown: 2.
Recoil Compensation
Full auto fire no longer has a -10% penalty to accuracy when used.
Gain Ability: Firepower Round
Duncan gains an assault rifle ability that fires a single shot of incendiary ammo. Does an additional 2 DMG and pierces up to 2 Armor. Cost: 1 AP. Cooldown: 2.
A fiery explosion that also does ongoing 4 HP DMG for 2 RNDS. Strips 1 Armor from affected targets.
Fireball II
A fiery explosion that also does ongoing -7 HP for 2 RNDS. Shares a cooldown with other Fireball spells.
On Fire: HP -7 per RND
Tong's desk drawers are open, and the safe that's built into one side has been opened. There's no sign of tampering, and the green light next to the word "Unlocked" is blinking. Whoever opened the safe did it with a key fob.

Inside are several blank credsticks, but no sign of any with money on them.
Looks like someone looted his stash. A guy like this wouldn't keep only empty credsticks in his safe.
A Whampoan Elder with no money in his safe? My ass. Somebody cleaned him out. Probably grabbed the key fob out of his pocket.
Huh. An empty safe? That says robbery to me. Maybe this is all a set-up, then.
An empty safe at the site of a vicious dismembering? I find it hard to believe he only kept empty credsticks in his safe.
Tong's safe still hangs open, the green "Unlocked" light blinking softly on the side panel.
Milspec Flight Suit
Made for the UCAS military.
Benelli Raffaello
Shotgun: A low-end, all-purpose shotgun.
Blaster 1 (Matrix)
{{GM}}The chef looks up from his pot of boiling water, red-faced and sweating. A name tag is pinned to his lapel: Chef Victor Kang.{{/GM}}

Thought I told them to send in the waiter. Who the hell are you?
I'm gonna be straight: I need to get past Neville Ma's security door.
Heard you can help me get through Neville Ma's apartment security.
Ma's got this door in his room - big thing, practically indestructible - and someone said that *you* can get me inside.
I'm leaving; sorry to bother you.
Yeah, I could do that... And I could also lose my job for it. Even go to jail. Sounds like a real winner of a proposition to me.

{{GM}}He strains a vat of boiled fish through a sieve.{{/GM}}

Got work to do, stranger. Door's that-a way.
I heard Ma insulted your dumplings in front of his guests. That's harsh.
Just wanted to say that Ma's an idiot for hating on your dumplings.
I don't understand how Ma can get away with ragging on your cuisine. I mean, you fed his *whole* party. You deserve better, man.
Sorry. I'll let you get back to it.
{{GM}}His expression hardens.{{/GM}}

Yeah. Cost me a raise and a whole lot of face. I'll bet that bastard didn't lose a wink of sleep over it, either.

{{GM}}With single motion, the chef lops off a fish's head.{{/GM}}
Give me your key fob, and I'll make sure he loses sleep tonight.
I know a thing or two that'll have Ma churning in his silk pajamas. Consider your key fob the means to an end.
How about an exchange? Your key fob for Ma's guaranteed... discomfort.
Yeah. Gladly.

{{GM}}He grabs a plastic tab from his apron pocket and tosses it to you.{{/GM}}

Ruin him, will you? Or at the very least, ruin his day. I'll consider it a bonus if you wreck his anemic girlfriend and giddy starlet's days, too.
Girlfriend? What girlfriend?
Sure. But I'll need to know more... especially about this girlfriend.
Wait - Neville's got himself a woman? Is it serious?
Thanks. I'll make it happen.
What's her name...

{{GM}}He snaps his fingers irritably.{{/GM}}

...Ku Feng. That's it. She's the rich wench who paid for Ma's hospital stay. Skinny, anemic thing. Never eats. All she ever orders is cheap, red wine.

First I thought it was a fling. But now... I'm not so sure. Maybe you can split 'em up. I'd thank you for it.
Don't suppose she takes her wine warmed and salted? I've, uh... I've heard rumors.
Thanks for your help, chef. I'll see what I can do.
{{GM}}His eyes narrow.{{/GM}}

A warm, salty wine? What a disaster.

No, she just orders wine. Plain ol' wine. Wouldn't stop her from slipping in her own seasonings, though.
Ah. Right. Thanks for your help, chef.
No, thank *you.*
You serving guests? No? Then get out before I call security!
Calm down. I'm leaving.
Eagle Totem
The Eagle boosts all allies within 3 tiles with a +15% to hit. Does not stack with other spells, nor affect AOE abilities. Lasts 2 RNDS.
Eagle: Accuracy +15%
{{GM}}The guard holds up his hand, all business.{{/GM}}

Not a step farther. Everybody has to check in - no exceptions. Please do so immediately, or I'll have to escort you off the premises.
Sure, no problem.
23847
{{GM}}The monk proprietor of this stall regards you coldly as you approach. Before you can even utter a word, you're interrupted.{{/GM}}

Nothing for sale here. Not for you.

You want to buy something, you get Kindly Cheng to vouch for you first. Until then, screw off.
{{GM}}Shen is packing everything up into a series of crates. There is a sense of urgency around the monk, though you do get a nod as you approach.{{/GM}}

You want anything, you'd best make it quick. After all the shit that's been going down, I'm clearing out until things settle down.
Bye now.
Despite the wind and rain pelting Heoi, the proprietor of this stall - a monk, judging by their outfit - is unconcerned. The monk's expression is indifferent, though hardly placid or serene. Muscles show as tightly wound metal bands beneath the skin, ready to snap in any direction without warning.
What's more, the monk's robes are anything but ordinary. Certainly, silk makes up the base outfit, but it's paired with high-impact ballistic armor, heavy duty boots, and a bandoleer of throwing knives.
The table in front of you is arrayed with a wide variety of melee weapons, charms, jade pendants, and other mystical accoutrements. Beneath an awning in the rear are rows upon rows of cages, each housing some variety of exotic reptile or insect. These in turn are flanked by jars and boxes of chinese herbs, incense, powders and inks.

The monk spares you only the shortest of glances as you approach.
I am Monk Shen. Most people in Heoi call me Spider Shen, on account of the spiders back there.

You're not local. Not by a long shot.

{{GM}}It's definitely a statement, not a question.{{/GM}}
What tipped you off?
Yeah. What about it?
You got a problem with that?
{{GM}}Shen smirks crookedly, two teeth peeking out from between thin lips.{{/GM}}

Body language. You're not afraid to look me in the eye, for one. For another, your clothes. Not in fashion, here in Hong Kong.
Swords, knives, clubs - I sell it all. I make most of these, but if I can't, I've got friends who can. If you need incense or salves for meditation, I make and sell those, too. And if your joints ache, I can give you acupuncture.

{{GM}}Shen places both palms on the table, leaning over it towards you with a wicked grin.{{/GM}}

So. What can I show you?
Let me take a look at your wares.
You're a monk and a weapons dealer?
You sell the snakes and spiders, too?
{{GM}}Shen slowly raises an eyebrow, arms folded.{{/GM}}

Yeah.

Where else would the ancient masters have gotten their legendary swords and spears? Down at the mall?
I was at Wudang Mountain for fifteen years before coming back to Hong Kong. I've been practicing xing yi quan my entire life - that's how I learned the herbs, as well as the forms.

It just so happens I'm good in a forge, too. That's why what you buy here is better than most other people's.
So why become a weapons dealer out here?
What's xing yi quan?
Why are your weapons special?
I get the picture. Let's talk about something else.
I was a runaway. A street orphan in Aberdeen. One day an old man who called himself Wo offered to take me in, let me make something of myself, as long as I worked hard.

Nothing in this life is free, friend. Not even Grandfather Wo's help. So I work for him, now.
Sounds like he was part of a triad.
{{GM}}Shen's eyes roll at this.{{/GM}}

Obviously. You think I'm in Kindly's little haven for no reason? She and Grandfather Wo are on good terms. I don't get in her way, I pay a cut to her, and everybody's happy. Even Wo, because I solve problems for him.
{{GM}}Shen raises a balled fist, which suddenly bursts into blue flame. After a moment, it gutters and goes out.{{/GM}}

Remember that, if anyone ever gives you something for free. In Heoi, you pay it back with money or blood, but you pay it back regardless.
{{GM}}Shen strikes a sudden pose - body low, one fist against a hip while the other is extended in an open palm.{{/GM}}

The Five Element Fist style. Water grows wood, which burns to become fire. Fire creates ashen earth, which condenses into metal, et cetera. The forms cycle the five elements, and opposing elements block each other.
A water fist will break a wooden defense, but a water block will extinguish fire. Should one use a water interception on a metal fist, however, water will be smashed apart.

Direct. Simple. Powerful. Not so elegant as bajiquan or tai chi, but much more powerful.
{{GM}}Shen pulls a tarp away from a nearby lump. The object beneath the tarp is revealed as the door to an Ares Citymaster armored personnel carrier. It's been caved inward by a massive amount of force, and in the dead center of the door is an indentation into which Shen's fist would fit perfectly.{{/GM}}

Power comes from focus, and focus comes from practice and meditation. Xing yi quan produces more power than most other forms of kung fu, and applies it in a highly focused way.
Because I take greater care with them, and I've studied the ancient texts. Anyone can make an excellent carbide steel blade. But I can make that carbide blade burst into flames. I can make it sing with joy in combat.

Anyone can make steel. Not anyone can awake it's soul.
Can I see one of the blades you've awoken?
{{GM}}Shen waves a hand at you dismissively.{{/GM}}

No, of course not! Swords like that have to be custom ordered. Only when someone cancels an order do I have one just laying around - and believe me, they get snatched up quick!
Okay. What do you want to know?
{{GM}}Shen shakes a finger at you, eyes narrowed.{{/GM}}

No. They're mine. I can sell you the things I craft with my hands, or the things I can *do*, but the medicines and poisons I make are my secret. You want those, you apprentice to me.

In five years, maybe I show you how to make a poultice, eh?
Okay, sheesh. No need to get upset.
They're that secret?
Come on, I can get narcoject anywhere. What's the harm?
You want to learn, you need patience. You try to learn without patience, all you do ape the masters.

{{GM}}Shen snaps two fingers and points at the cages.{{/GM}}

You have to understand them, to truly learn my art. Otherwise, you never become a master. Might as well get a skillsoft.
Of course they're secret! These are what set me apart from the rest of the street dealers in Heoi. You want cram or bliss, any two-bit triad punk can make that for you. But I can re-align your qi. Set your yin and yang in balance. Or set somebody else's out of balance, with a few drops.

To master my skills, you need to learn for years. It's not just following a formula.
The *harm*, outsider, is that this is my trade. They're my trade secret. Everybody can go on the matrix and figure out how to make nitro and cram, cook some up in a shitty basement lab. But to make these medicines, you need to be an artist.

The punk kids down the way, always they ask me to teach them. But they've got no patience for it.
{{GM}}Shen shrugs, and swings an open palm across the table in front of you.{{/GM}}

So, you probably have more reason to buy something than my neighbors. And I'm here to sell, so that's good.
Why would I? I'm here to sell. You seem like you're here to buy. That's business.

{{GM}}Shen raps two knuckles on the table in front of you.{{/GM}}

You want to kill somebody, these'll make it happen.
{{GM}}Shen nods in greeting, and raps a fist against the table's surface.{{/GM}}

Welcome back. You decide you needed something after all?
Shen is busily counting out credsticks as you approach. Shen's hands move quickly, fingers deftly sorting them into small plastic bins. The labels on the bins bear names: Steel Arm Lu, Grandfather Wo, Lucky Ping, and Kindly Cheng.

Shen's eyes flicker up at you for a fraction of a second before returning to the task.
One moment. I'll be done shortly.

{{GM}}A few last flicks of the wrist see the final credsticks sorted into their respective bin, with the lion's share going to Kindly and Steel Arm Lu.{{/GM}}

There. Now, what can I do for you?
You pay a lot of dues to the Yellow Lotus?
That's all for now, Shen.
{{GM}}Shen shrugs, obviously indifferent to the amount the shop's being taxed.{{/GM}}

I do. But that's how the system works. I pay Kindly for rent. Steel-Arm Lu gets money because he's my superior. Lucky Ping receives a finder's fee for goods she sends my way, and Grandfather Wo took me in.

He gets paid because he's family, and I owe him for getting me off the streets.
You join the organization, you have to pay the dues. It's the same as anywhere else, and it beats the hell out of being homeless in Kowloon.

{{GM}}Stuffing the boxes away below the counter, Shen produces a box of assorted needles and inks and begins cataloging them on a battered PDA.{{/GM}}
You don't mind paying?
Seems a bit like a scam, to me.
Not really. Grandfather Wo saved my life by taking me in, you know. Life expectancy for homeless kids in Aberdeen isn't very good. Because of him, I have skills and friends who'll pay to make use of them.

It's a good life, all things considered.
{{GM}}Shen leans back against a stack of cages, causing the snakes within to hiss and snap at the glass.{{/GM}}

I'm just a Blue Lantern - a footsoldier. I answer to White Ming, who I studied with on Wudang Mountain. He's the 49er, the made man who runs our crew. I don't pay him, because he takes his own cut of what we make.
That's not how things work out here. Grandfather Wo saved my life by taking me in. As a homeless kid in Aberdeen, I'd be lucky to make it it to twenty. Gangs or the police would have ended me long before I could leave my mark.

Because of him, I have skills and friends who'll pay to make use of them.
{{GM}}Shen is examining a stack of credsticks. Turning around, the monk nods.{{/GM}}

Hello again. What do you need?
{{GM}}Shen is busily engaged in a conversation with someone on the other end of a video call. The other individual appears to be a tremendously handsome elf wearing an immaculate - and undoubtedly pricey - custom suit. Shen doesn't appear to notice you..{{/GM}}

I'm just saying, if the customs office gives me any more crap about importing those Tiger Snakes, I'm going to be up a creek without paddle.
{{GM}}The elf nods, tilting his head back with a mischevious grin.{{/GM}}

Leave it to me. I have some friends in the customs house, and between that and their shoddy record-keeping, I'm certain I can get your snakes out of quarantine. It'll take a day, maybe two. If it takes longer than that, it's because someone specifically doesn't like you.
{{GM}}At long last, Shen seems to notice you.{{/GM}}

Hold on, Yang. I'll call you back. Got a customer here.
{{GM}}Putting down the commlink, Shen bows.{{/GM}}

Hello again. What can Spider Shen do for you today?
Who's the good looking elf?
Getting some new pets in?
See you later, Shen.
He's my lawyer, Yang. *Our* lawyer, I should say, since he's another Blue Lantern, and is part of the same crew.

{{GM}}Shen lifts a thin chinese sword, turning it over so that the light glitters along the egde.{{/GM}}

I don't do a lot of things that are legal, in the strictest sense. It helps to have a good lawyer, you know?
For most shadowrunners, getting caught is the end of their career.
Why not bribe the police?
Well, see? There you go. If you had a good lawyer, that wouldn't be a problem.

{{GM}}Shen grins, chin tilted upward.{{/GM}}

Saves you a world of trouble, $(l.man).
Most of the time, caught means 'dead', for us.
{{GM}}Shen is unmoved by this information.{{/GM}}

Well, then your lawyer can make sure your inheritance goes to the right people, eh?
This one time, we had to cause a big fuss and make sure it pointed at the Red Dragon Syndicate. We ran into one of their protection rackets and started causing all kinds of a fuss - breaking windows, setting fires, roughing up patrons. Yang told us to wait and get arrested.

Problem was, there was a vice squad that really wanted us caught and thrown in jail. We'd embarassed them a few times already.
{{GM}}Shen chuckles quietly.{{/GM}}

Turns out, he'd used a decker contact to make sure to swap a bunch of public recordings, so that traffic cameras would conclusively show us somewhere else and arriving at the last minute.
He also made sure the vice squad that arrested us was cited for failing to file the proper paperwork on a bunch of previous cases.

The squad got canned. We got let go. It was a thing of beauty.
Why spend money you don't have to? If Yang can convince the police it's not worth their time to come after somebody, that's already cheaper than a bribe. What's more, it looks on the up-and-up to any cop that's dumb enough to pass on a bribe.

He's gotten us out of more jams than I can recall.
{{GM}}Shen frowns dourly.{{/GM}}

They're not *pets* - they're an investment. I can make antivenom serums from them, or I can use the raw venom to accomplish tasks that would otherwise be too messy and loud.
You do wetwork for the Yellow Lotus?
Wait, you're an assassin?
When the situation demands it. Normally, I work for Grandfather Wo exclusively. Sometimes, though, he asks me to do someone else a favor.

{{GM}}Shen produces a needle from below the boat's table, casually flicking it off to the side. Glancing over, you see that it's embedded halfway into a metal crate.{{/GM}}

I solve problems. I never know what the problem will be, so I have an array of tools at my disposal.
It's like this: yes, I can hurt people. But I can also heal them. I learned to heal with my medicine before I learned to hurt.

When you learn how the body works, you learn how to break it, as well as fix it. It's like a mechanic and a car engine: if you know how to fix it, you know how to disable it.
When I'm paid to be, yes. Most of the time, no, but sometimes Grandfather Wo has a problem that needs a permanent solution.

{{GM}}Shen produces a needle from below the boat's table, casually flicking it off to the side. Glancing over, you see that it's embedded halfway into a metal crate.{{/GM}}

I can solve those problems. And I prefer to have a wide array of tools to work with.
{{GM}}Leaning against the weapons table, Shen rests one hand atop a glass-covered case. Inside the case is a thin Chinese sword - a jian - with an ornate grip and blade etchings. A small label on the side of the case reads "For White Ming."{{/GM}}

Ho there, $(l.name). Come to find a blade, or maybe some ginseng and peony root?
How did you know my name? I never told you.
You think all I do is sit on this boat and wait for you to show up? Come on. You're Kindly Cheng's pet shadowrunner. Your name's all over Heoi.

{{GM}}Shen grins, gesturing at you.{{/GM}}

You stand out, $(l.man). That's a good thing. It means you're becoming somebody, not staying one of the forgettables.
{{GM}}Shen stands, twisting left and right to a chorus of cracking vertebrae.{{/GM}}

So. What do you need today?
What's with the sword?
Talk to you later.
This little thing?

{{GM}}Shen runs one hand over the glass top of the case, smiling fondly.{{/GM}}

This... Is a masterpiece. Crafted by my own hands, as a gift for White Ming. He's being elevated to a Red Pole.
One hundred and twenty centimeters in length. Three point five centimeters width at the base, tapering to two point seven five before the tip. Half a centimeter in thickness, with a twining dragon motif along the fuller.

And... It lights on fire when the appointed owner holds it.
Very nice indeed.
That sounds impressive.
{{GM}}Shen's annoyance is as glass shards in the reply.{{/GM}}

Nice is a bouquet of orchids. Nice is a fine meal after a hard day. Nice is pleasant weather while you relax on your boat. This isn't nice.

This is a masterpiece.
Few Red Poles in any triad can claim a weapon as fine as this, and none of them are masters of Wudang Sword like White Ming. His skills with the jian are peerless in Hong Kong, and any who face him in combat will know when he draws his sword that they have no chance against him.

Nice, indeed. Pfeh.
What goes into making a sword like this?
Time. Patience. Good steel stock, to be certain. A fair amount of alchemical materials like Orichalcum, crystals, et cetera.

The real key is human bone.
The old Chinese masters would throw in human bones when folding the steel. The phosphorous does something or other to the carbon and iron, and I can't really explain it because I'm not a metallurgist. I just do what I learned on the mountain.

But it works, believe me. It gives the blade a soul. It's not so much the edge that cuts, but that soul. It's why weapon foci go through spirits like a knife through butter.
It's more than impressive - it's a damned masterpiece, is what it is!

{{GM}}Shen's annoyance is a jagged edge across the statement.{{/GM}}

You think it's easy to make a sword like this? Hell no. Took me four damn months.
{{GM}}Shen nods at you in greeting.{{/GM}}

What can I do for you?
{{GM}}The area behind Shen's table is even more cluttered than usual. Many of the glass cages have been pulled out of their neatly arranged stacks, lying about the floor of the boat like miniature reptilian landmines. Shen is busy checking each cage, marking the contents on a commlink{{/GM}}

Be with you in a second... Just seeing if an order is complete.
Ball python, check. Asian keelback, check. Mexican vine snake, check. The Indian egg-eating snake's there too... Good. Looks like everything's here.

{{GM}}Shen nods in satisfaction, placing the commlink down on the table in front of you.{{/GM}}

Right, then. What can I do for you?
I thought you didn't sell your animals.
Keep safe, Shen.
I don't! Especially not the venomous ones. But this is different. I'm brokering a deal between a reptile wholesaler and a friend of mine who needs a lot of snakes for his next trid production.

{{GM}}Shen plants a foot atop one cage, smiling broadly.{{/GM}}

You ever heard of a man by the name of Dr. Shenyang?
Sure. I even did some work for him.
Yeah, actually. He contacted me about a job.
Can't say that I have.
{{GM}}Shen blinks, obviously surprised by this news.{{/GM}}

Well, how about that. I knew that dirty little dwarf got around, but I didn't think he'd hire freelancers to handle something I could.

You must be familiar with what a weird little bastard he is, then.
So these snakes are for his next trid movie. I think he's calling it "Martian Snake-Witches of the Fourth Reich." It's some terrible science fiction movie about time travelling wizards from the future.

{{GM}}Shrugging, Shen throws both hands into the air.{{/GM}}

God knows where he gets the funding for these ideas. They sure don't sell for crap.
This one time, he wanted to make a trid show starring me, White Ming, and the rest of our crew. It was going to be about daily life in a triad, but he wanted to make it a sitcom.

I don't really know what's so comedic about extortion, racketeering and assault, but that's his strange little brain for you.
Mark my words - whatever he wants you to do, it'll be strange. I have no idea where he comes up with his ideas, but I'm fairly certain he finds them at the bottom of the cheapest bottles of whiskey he can find.

{{GM}}Smirking, Shen chuckles.{{/GM}}

Strange guy, but he pays well.
Well, you'll know him if you see him. Greasy little dwarf who's friends with Kindly Cheng. He's a cut-rate trid producer who makes some of the most god-awful films I've ever seen. He's always got some scam or other up his sleeve.

His films suck, but his schemes seem to pay out.
{{GM}}Shen is browsing pictures of what appears to be Thailand on a PDA, one finger lazily scrolling the screen.{{/GM}}

Hey. What do you need?
As you approach Shen's boat, you spot a number of children peeking out of the belowdecks area. They're dressed in ratty clothing, with stained and tattered shirts. All the same, they look well-fed and healthy - albeit a bit grimy.

As soon as they spot you, they disappear into the belowdecks.
{{GM}}Shen nods to you before calling out into the depths of the boat.{{/GM}}

Make sure the bilge pump is reconnected after you re-oil it. I don't want to slowly sink to the bottom of the river because you decided to cut corners!
{{GM}}There is no response from below. Shen simply chuckles, turning around to face you.{{/GM}}

They're not the most skilled assistants, but I like being able to keep them fed.

What can I do for you?
Where'd you find the kids?
Here I was, thinking you were a bad monk.
I didn't! They found me.

{{GM}}Shen shrugs and grins crookedly.{{/GM}}

They heard about the triad monk who'll feed kids in exchange for odd jobs. After meeting the rest of my crew, I think they got a little bit infatuated. They think I don't hear it when they play at being Spider Shen and White Ming, but I do.
That's cute.
Should they be idolizing triad members?
Yeah, I think so, too. That's why I look the other way - I don't want to embarrass them.

Besides, it's kind of flattering to have them look up to me. My very own fan club.
{{GM}}Shen smiles faintly.{{/GM}}

I remember what it was like, to be those kids. Nobody cares if you live or die. So I told myself that when I started to make it, I'd give back to the community.

That's how the triads started, you know? Self-protection and community service. If we can't help out our community, we're no better than the megas.
{{GM}}Shen sneers at you, lips twisted in scorn.{{/GM}}

Who the hell else are they gonna look up out here? Corporate wage slaves? Overbearing, self-important rent-a-cops? At least they stand a chance of joining a triad and making something of themselves.

Anything else is a pipe dream.
For anybody on the outskirts, you can't move up. You can't become a citizen. You're just a body to be exploited - spare parts, cheap labor, a medical test subject that gets kidnapped off the street.

You're a shadowrunner. You know how it is. Fight to survive, or get crushed.
{{GM}}Shen snorts.{{/GM}}

I *am* a bad monk. Sure, I meditate and say the sutras. But that whole vow of non-violence thing's the lesson I keep forgetting.
What it comes down to, though, is that I don't care. I didn't become a monk because I was a true believer - I did it because it was a ticket out of the gutter. The skills I learned there, I can use to improve things here.

{{GM}}Shen leans back against the cages, arms folded.{{/GM}}
That seems awfully mercenary of you.
So it's an altruism thing?
You're at the edge of the Walled City, $(l.name). That's the kind of hellhole that gets created when we let the megas get their way. I've had people moralize and preach at me about being a better person. To hell with that.

{{GM}}Shen spits off the side of the boat, scowling.{{/GM}}
You know what happens to nice people who aren't rich?

They get killed. They get kidnapped. They get taken advantage of and shoved in a dark hole that they can't climb out of, just because it saves a few pennies for somebody who already has wealth beyond measure.
So I figure the moral thing to do is to put an iron spike right in every one of those bastards foreheads - the corporate bigwigs, the corrupt cops, the slave traders.

I have the skills to protect my friends. I'm not ashamed to use them.
{{GM}}Shen pauses in arraging the stacks of cages as you approach.{{/GM}}

Back for more, eh? What can I do for you?
Shen is reclining against the stacks of cages as you approach, watching the display of a small trid player on the table. The trid displays the shimmering form of a dancing woman weaving her way through a crowded club. It seems to have been filmed via a portable recorder, or possibly someone's cybereyes.

Draped in wild clothing that scintillates with lights and holograms, the dancer slips through the crowd like living mercury - every step and evasion is effortless.
You watch the dancer weave her way up a flight of stairs, moving toward a second floor balcony. As she ascends the stairs, her hands start to crackle with energy, and points of light trace across her neck, shoulders, and spine. In the glitter and flash of the club lighting, no one else seems to notice.

For a split second, she looks back at the camera's point of view, smiling seductively.
{{GM}}Shen gestures toward the holographic display, smiling broadly.{{/GM}}

Keep watching. It's about to get good in a few seconds.
The dancer arrives at the top floor, moving towards a particular table. The table's occupants - triad members, judging by their tattoos - rise from where they're sitting and begin to draw weapons. Their expressions indicate they're familiar with the dancer, and intend to kill her.

At this point the dancer explodes into motion.
She bobs and weaves out of the way of their gunfire, her fingertips flinging electricity and fire in long arcs. She seems to dance at and around the triad soldiers; each step and beat causes an explosion of force that scatters tables and drinks.

Wreathed in the elements, the woman cuts through the triad members in an effortless pavane of destruction.
{{GM}}The recording ends, and Shen straightens up.{{/GM}}

I could watch Lucky Ping at work all day. I don't know how she works her magic, but it's a beautiful and terrifying thing to behold. Really glad she's with the Yellow Lotus, and not an enemy syndicate.
That's a friend of yours?
That was a hell of a dance.
That's a pretty messy trick for a crowded club.
That's right. She's a Red Pole in her own right, and Steel Arm Lu's cousin. Scary woman, but if she likes you, she'll stick with you through anything.

{{GM}}Shen leans over the display table, palms flat on the surface.{{/GM}}

So, what can I do for you?
Tell me more about your crew.
Do you like working for the Yellow Lotus?
{{GM}}With folded arms, Shen regards you with some suspicion.{{/GM}}

We're fairly private people. Generally, when I get asked a question like that, I figure it's because someone's looking for something to use against me.

{{GM}}Shen's expression softens after a moment, however.{{/GM}}
Well, you've been a decent person so far. I guess I can tell you some.

White Ming and I started our cell. Grandfather Wo took him to Wudang a year or two before he did the same for me. He made it clear that he expected repayment in kind, when we were old enough, and since the Yellow Lotus was his organization, we joined up.
At first, it was mostly small-time stuff - shell games on street corners, stuff like that. We picked up a new member after about six months, and things started to change - Freedom Tse. Dwarf kid, absolute murder with twin pistols. The kind of focus I can bring to bear in kung fu? That's how he shoots.

{{GM}}Shen grins crookedly.{{/GM}}

His parents named him 'Freedom' and sent him to the UCAS to live with an uncle. Guess they wanted him to be really American or something.
Beyond that, there's Yang - the lawyer you saw me talking to, before. The four of us do a pretty cozy business, between jobs for Steel Arm Lu and Kindly Cheng.

It's not like we're in charge of much, but it beats starving, yeah?
'Like' has nothing to do with it. I have debts to Grandfather Wo, and I intend to pay them.

I guess they're a good enough syndicate. We waste a lot of blood and money fighting the Red Dragon, though. Can't say that I like that end of the business, since it seems like such a huge waste.
If it weren't for Grandfather, I might see about getting White Ming, Steel Arm Lu and Lucky Ping to break away. Maybe start our own thing in turf that's not quite so fought over.

{{GM}}Lifting one hand, palm up, Shen smiles faintly.{{/GM}}

But I can't leave him. I owe him everything.
Why would you split off at all?
It's good to have that kind of loyalty.
You owe him less than you think.
I've heard a lot of talk between the Yellow Lotus Vanguards and Incense Masters. They're dead-set on eliminating the Red Dragons, despite the risk. When that kind of talk gets tossed around, nobody's safe. It leads to all-out warfare.

Last time that happened, the White Jade Brotherhood got wiped out completely.
It's just bad strategy to try and wipe them out. It's all this old rivalry between the elders - it has nothing to do with the business end of things.

Old vendettas get you killed, even if they're not yours.
{{GM}}Shen nods in agreement.{{/GM}}

Without that kind of loyalty, what kind of people are we? We're no different than the robber barons and corrupt politicians that've made a mess of this world.

You stand by your family, and you fight to protect them. That's what matters.
That's for me to decide, honestly. He saved my life, took me in, and got me a place in this world that wasn't under somebody's boot. If that's not worth a little loyalty, nothing in this life is.

Doesn't make me feel any better about the developments up at the top, though...
That it is. She's been a dancer since she was a kid, but I guess her magic just spontaneously manifested when she was a teenager. She's figured out how to channel it into that kind of...whatever it is you saw. I have no idea how she does it.

{{GM}}Shen shrugs helplessly.{{/GM}}

Anyway, what can I help you with?
Yeah, well... Ping isn't known for her subtlety. She loves to be paid attention to, so asking her to do something quietly will generally get you ignored. In a hurry. It's always a damn lightning and fire show with her. No idea how she makes the spells come out by dancing, but it's how it works for her.

Anyway, what can I do for you?
{{GM}}Shen raises a hand in greeting as you approach.{{/GM}}

Welcome back. What can I get for you, my friend?
{{GM}}Shen nods in greeting as you approach.{{/GM}}

Good to see you, $(l.name). What can I get you today?
Private Party Invitation
A digital invitation to Neville Ma's private party.
Clothes directly imported from the Salish-Shidhe Council. Grants +1 Charisma.
The front of the server's case hangs open, the inner machinery quiet and without power. A clipboard is stuck to the side by a piece of duct tape, its papers filled with a long list of programs and their prices.

A quick glance over the program sheet reveals names like "BugsBugsBugs!" and "Black Hammer". Undoubtedly this was Magpie's attack program storage machine.
Somebody's removed the drives, and it sure wasn't Magpie. Here, look...

{{GM}}Is0bel gestures to the innards of the open server. Near the back, a solitary red light blinks.{{/GM}}

The main drives were disconnected properly, but it looks like she modded the server to have a backup drive with its own battery-based power supply. If it was Magpie, she'd have taken that too.
Crap. This is a Fuchi XB-1000, and it looks like the battery power ran out a while ago... The XB-1000s are constant-write drives. They're dirt cheap and have a ton of capacity, but if they run out of power, they lose their data.

We're not gonna be able to get anything off the drive.
A solitary red light blinks at the rear of the open server. Upon closer inspection, it looks like a Fuchi XB-1000 backup drive with its own isolated battery power, probably to safeguard the server's data if the main supply failed. The XB-1000 drives are constant-write: cheap, with a ton of storage capacity, but if they lose power they lose all their data.

Unfortunately, the isolated drive's battery power has long since run out.
Security Key Fob
Found on a HKPF responder at the museum.
{{GM}}Brent nods to you as you approach.{{/GM}}

Hey again. Is there something else you wanted?
Something I can help you with, friend?

{{GM}}The elf has a hard-set look to his face and the cold stare of someone accustomed to casual violence. The most striking thing about him, however, are the glowing golden tattoos that wrap from his forehead around toward the back of his head, just over one ear.{{/GM}}
Nice ink you've got there.
I'm looking for potential hires. You've got that look.
Trying to meet the local color.
It's not ink. Not really. It's a spell.

{{GM}}The elf's tone is flat and disinterested, but he fixes you with an intense stare.{{/GM}}

Magical tattoo. The kind of thing you tend to pick up in the business.
What business is that, anyway?
{{GM}}Fixing you with a dubious look, the elf cocks his head.{{/GM}}

What the hell do you think, $(l.man)? Look at you. We're obviously working the same angle here in Heoi.
The name's Brent. Brent Shirkey.

{{GM}}He doesn't extend a hand, but nods at you in greeting.{{/GM}}

I'm a mage. One of the best in this hemisphere, in fact.
That's an awfully plain name.
{{GM}}Brent shrugs.{{/GM}}

The name's not attached to any SIN, so what does it matter?
Good to know you.

You need anyone to pick up the magical slack on your team, you can find me here.
Yeah? What kind of look is that, anyway?

{{GM}}He leans back, knitting his fingers together on the table in front of him. His expression is dubious, but there's an interested glint in his eye.{{/GM}}
Look at me. You know know I'm a shadowrunner.
I sell instant noodles. What the hell do you think I do?
Freelance extra-legal activities.
{{GM}}The elf nods a few times, and spreads his hands in acceptance.{{/GM}}

I guess you have a point. We can usually tell our own. Body language, you know. Hyper-alertness, that look that says 'don't mess with me'.
{{GM}}The elf casually extends one arm, turning it over so you can see his pale skin.{{/GM}}

I'm no local. I speak the language, but that's just common courtesy when you're working in another country. You want to get chummy with Hong Kongers, go hang out at a night market. I'm only here for work.
Oh yeah? What do you do?
{{GM}}Brent lifts two fingers in greeting.{{/GM}}

Hey. Good to see you're keeping safe. Got any jobs you need me for?
Soon. Got to get some affairs in order first.
I don't know yet. I'm checking around.
Not right now.
Great!

I'll be sure to get my gear prepped and ready. Just let me know when you're ready to head out, and I'll be there.
All right. Let me know what you hear, okay?

Cash is a little tight, and I'm always willing to work.
Okay. Well, anything comes up, you know where to find me.

I'm always down for work.
Good to see you, $(l.name). We have another job coming up?
Always. As soon as I wrap up some things, we're heading out.
I'm not sure yet, but you'll be the first to know.
Don't you need a break yet?
Good to know. I'll get my gear checked and ready.

Just let me know when you're leaving, and I'll be there.
Good. I'll be here in the meantime. It's not like you don't know how to get ahold of me.
Are you kidding me?

This is the stuff I live for. I can sleep when I'm dead.
What's your specialty as a mage?
Why don't you use a street name?
What's with the magical tattoo?
I'll talk to you later, Brent.
What kind of bullshit question is that? Are you interviewing me for a job renting tuxedos, or something?

{{GM}}Brent snorts, and hunches over the table on one elbow.{{/GM}}

Magic is about power. You can dress it up however you like, but that's the core of what it is.
I've met a lot of magicians that talk about being spiritually in tune with the universe, or reaching a higher state of enlightenment. It's all crap. You focus your will to enact a change on the universe. The stronger your will, the bigger the change.

Calling it anything else is just window dressing.
That's why I bring the big guns: fire, lightning, raw force. My will is stronger than steel, or kevlar, or stone. A good mage knows exactly how far they can push themselves, and they ride that limit.

It's not the blessing of a totem or idol, but their own skill at knowing their limits - just like an athlete.
That's a remarkably open way of putting it.
What about astral space? Spirits?
I agree - magic's a skill, not a religion.
Why should I dress it up, just because some people grasp at gods? Sure, they get totemic power from somewhere, but totems always seem to match the shaman's pre-existing outlook and prejudices.

Some people can't accept the power comes from within themselves, so they have to pretend it's been given to them.
{{GM}}Brent lifts a hand, gesturing in the air as he speaks.{{/GM}}

It's like this: we know we can graph the power output of magical energy. We can benchmark the intensity of spirits and astral energies. The entire basis of modern thaumaturgy is treating magic like any other science. We don't know how everything works, but the same is true for quantum physics.
Why should we assume higher powers are at work when the scientific method can be applied to thaumaturgy?

I certainly *understand* the desire to look for answers in the heavens, but they're just as ephemeral as ever.
It's where all magicians draw their power. Sure, there are spirits, but those are tangible. We can measure them. Totems? Idols? There's no external evidence they exist.

In fact, it's much more likely that they're simply common, Jungian-style archetypes that the superstitious use to explain their power.
Exactly. Religion is a way of explaining the universe in a way the faithful understand. Magic is about speaking to the universe in words it can't ignore.

If higher powers were required to work magic, then I'd be as out of luck as the local stuffer shack clerk.
{{GM}}Brent shrugs, one corner of his mouth curling up in a wry smile.{{/GM}}

When I started running, I was too young to know better. By the time it mattered, I was too good for anyone to do anything about it. Since I'm SINless, it's not like any of the megas can attach meaningful information to the name - it's just as meaningless as any street name, in terms of tracking me.
Besides, street names have always struck me as a little ridiculous. You're gonna call yourself something that sounds like a teenage matrix handle, and that shows you're serious? Please.

I wouldn't be able to look myself in the mirror if I called myself something like "Blackheart", "Silverhand" or "Adarael." It's just ridiculous.
"Brent Shirkey" is a name that's mine. I've owned it my whole life.

Why change that now?
Oh, this?

{{GM}}Brent lifts two fingers, running them across his forehead toward the tip of his ear.{{/GM}}

Got this done in Yokohama a few years back. An old crewmate's brother is a tattoo artist out there, specializing in quickened spells.
You put this kind of ink in, it's like getting a spell cast on you for good. A ward'll knock it down just like normal, but you never have to re-cast the spell - it just slowly regenerates.

A nice alternative to cyberware.
That sounds like a pretty great deal.
So what spell does it hold?
Oh, it is. But here's the catch - it's a constant astral link to you, no matter where you are. So if you piss off the artist, they can put a sending on you - long range magical artillery. It takes a bit to catch up with you, but you'll just explode on the spot. That's how the triads keep members from breaking their oaths.

You can only get this kind of work done if you really trust the artist.
Kinda prosaic, but... I'm really allergic to pollution. Intensely. Developed it during a stint in Kolkata a few years back. Something about all the crap they pump into the air just wrecked my lungs. I couldn't keep up on the job, so this spell alleviates the allergies.

Not as flashy as mind reading or something, but still useful.
Neural Inhibitor
A custom made weapon, usable at mid range. Deactivates the target's neural wipe, and leaves them stunned. The effect takes 3 RNDs to sedate the target.
Shield 1.0
Incoming DMG from attacks is reduced by 15 for 4 RNDS.
Shield: All Incoming DMG -15
Deflect III
Reduces incoming DMG by 6. Lasts 2 RNDS.
Deflect: Incoming DMG -6
Nerve Bolt
Unbalanced by Nerve Bolt
Timed Grenade
Test for creating a timed mine.
ACCESSING... Turret Systems Center.

Main Menu:
{{CC}}Drone Control: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Hard){{/CC}} {{GM}}Take control of the turrets.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Decking: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Medium){{/CC}} {{GM}}Disable the turrets.{{/GM}}
Is0bel, got any you can do with this?
Dr. Racter, any thoughts on this setup.
The turrets are under your command.
The turrets shut down.
{{GM}}She nearly snickers.{{/GM}}

I've made a habit of cracking Tsang encryption, it's basically as easy flipping a switch at this point.
So...?
...So I flip a switch and the turrets go down. Simple.
{{GM}}She manipulates the electrical panel in front of her and some lights flicker and fade from the display.{{/GM}}

Done.
It is rudimentary. Poorly secured. Shoddy handiwork. But such is to be expected with the Tsang's especially given how quickly they must have thrown this up. If they were really being smart they would have interla--
I mean: can you do something to make it so that turret doesn't shoot us in the face?
{{GM}}He smiles.{{/GM}}

But of course! If you like I could have that turret instead shoot at the faces of the Tsang Security. Would that be preferred?
{{GM}}As expected, in mere moments Racter has rewired the turret. If activated, it will attack the Tsangs and only the Tsangs.{{/GM}}
Cobra Totem
The power of the Cobra grants a personal passive benefit of +1 DMG and +5% Accuracy for all attacks made by the Shaman.
A bite attack that strips 2 Armor from the target, and +1 AP DMG.
Venom Splash I
A venomous spray that travels to the next adjacent target.
Mark Target 2.0
Uses the Decking skill for accuracy. If successful, marks an enemy, causing them to become 15% easier to hit.
A large "X" formed by peeling duct tape.
Dr. Shenyang
Smuggler
Resident
Sailor
Exec
Bad Exec Guard 2
Bad Exec Guard 3
Bad Exec Guard 1
Raymond Guard 2
Raymond Guard 1
Raymond Video Camera Man
HKPF Officer
$(scene.global_AljernonName)
Emilie
Captain Jomo
Human Refugee
Elf Refugee
Handsome Lee
Stephen Dynamite
$(scene.Transient4_cherryIgnacio)
Human Transient
Dwarf Transient
Troll Transient
Elf Transient
Heoi Smuggler
Transient
Young Duncan
Go to the Repulse Bay Hotel to Help Dr. Shenyang Blackmail Neville Ma
Get to Gobbet's Bolt Hole
Meet with Kindly Cheng
Enter the Walled City and Deliver a Message to Strangler Bao
Give the Evidence on Neville Ma to Dr. Shenyang
Return to Kindly Cheng
Go to the Emperor's Tomb museum to Liberate Artifacts
Go to the Whampoa to Track Down a Serial Killer
Travel to the MV Nalchi and Steal the Data and Tissue Samples
Go to the Ares Asia Holdings Facility to Plant the Data
Travel to the Skytower to Damage Wuxing, Inc.'s Feng Shui
Go to the Shangri-La and Kidnap 'Rooster' Lo
Help Gaichu Set an Ambush for his Former Team
Catch a Boat to the Sinking Ship and Find Gobbet
Head to DeckCon 2056 for Is0bel's Job
Go to the Mahjong Parlor
Get Some Sleep
Get Some Rest
Activate the Mission Computer
Hear Kindly Cheng's Information
Take the MTR to Meet Dreamland
Talk to Racter About the Ares Run
Go See What Kindly Cheng Wants
Infiltrate Prosperity Tower and Find Raymond Black
Meet Kindly Cheng's Friend
Find, Capture, and Interrogate the Plastic-Faced Man
Cavalier's mid-line frag grenade.
Decreases the target's Armor by 2 for 3 RNDs. Shares a cooldown with other Strip Armor spells.
An illegal street drug made from the leaked Kamikaze formula. Adds +1 Body, +1 Strength, and +1 Willpower for 5 RNDS. Every time the user is attacked, Strength increases.
Melee: A deadly weapon and a work of art. May do AP DMG on a critical hit.
Wu holds up his hand for everyone to stop. Turns to the two of you and hooks his thumbs in his belt.
Well, that was a thing. Never thought I'd be shuttling messages between criminals in a Hong Kong syndicate.

I can't imagine what Raymond would've wanted in the Walled City. This place just *feels* wrong.
Looking for more stray kids to take in?
No kidding. There's something off about it.
It must've been important. He flew all the way here. Hired runners for an escort.
After us, I don't think he wanted any more.

{{GM}}He rubs his head in confusion.{{/GM}}

Seriously, why did Raymond want to come anywhere near this place? It makes you feel like your life has no value. Like there's just no point to *anything.*
{{GM}}He sighs and looks at your companion.{{/GM}}

Great life you have here, runner.
{{GM}}Is0bel ignores the barb. She exhales in relief.{{/GM}}

We're lucky that we were able to stop that spirit before it killed Bao. I don't think Cheng would have appreciated losing one of her best enforcers right after losing some of her best runners.
Hey, how about a new rule - no more summoning spirits?
You'll have to take that one up with Gobbet, Gun Show.

She's a shaman. Summoning's part of her gig.
Gun Show? Seriously?

{{GM}}Wu's goggles point down at Is0bel.{{/GM}}

That's not gonna stick, is it?
{{GM}}Is0bel ignores the barb. She inhales with a little tremble.{{/GM}}

Well, we got the job done, but a couple Yellow Lotus members had to be put down to do it. Hopefully, Kindly Cheng will understand that she had to lose a few to accomplish her goal.
I don't know which is worse - mucking around in this pit or trying to talk a spirit down from a homicidal rage.
I'll take talking to lost spirits over this place.
{{GM}}She looks around. Shudders.{{/GM}}

Every time.
{{GM}}Is0bel ignores the barb. She's too pleased.{{/GM}}

I can't believe it. We actually delivered Auntie's message without anyone dying.
I've had enough of triads. Let's get out of this pit.
I'm with you, Gun Show. I don't need to see this place ever again.
It's a life... the only one I've got. Beats living in this cesspool.

Now can we please get out of here?
Can't happen fast enough.

I've had enough of triads. Let's get out of this pit.
Go on, Gun Show. Lead the way.
{{GM}}Gobbet ignores the barb. She exhales in relief.{{/GM}}

We're lucky that we were able to stop that spirit before it killed Bao. I don't think Cheng would have appreciated losing one of her best enforcers right after losing some of her best runners.
{{GM}}Gobbet drops a hand to her hip.{{/GM}}

Sorry, Gun Show. Not gonna happen. I'm a shaman. Summoning's a big part of the gig.
Gun Show? Seriously?

{{GM}}Wu's goggles pan down. Come to rest on Gobbet.{{/GM}}

That's not gonna stick, is it?
{{GM}}Gobbet ignores the barb. She inhales with a little tremble.{{/GM}}

Well, we got the job done but a couple Yellow Lotus members had to be put down to do it. Hopefully, Kindly Cheng will understand that she had to lose a few to accomplish her goal.
I'll take talking to lost spirits over this place anytime, Gun Show.
{{GM}}She looks around. Shudders.{{/GM}}

*Anytime.*
{{GM}}Gobbet ignores the barb. Scratches her head.{{/GM}}

I can't believe it. We actually delivered the old lady's message without anyone dying.
{{GM}}Gobbet ignores the barb. She breathes a sigh of relief.{{/GM}}

Look, we're done, aren't we? We got into - and back out of - the Walled City, and we're still in one piece.

Whining ex-cops aside, I'd call that a win.
{{GM}}The cords stand out on the sides of his neck, but he keeps his voice calm.{{/GM}}

I'm not whining, rat-girl. Duncan Wu doesn't whine.
Yeah. Whatever you say, Gun Show.
This place makes you feel like your life has no value. Like there's just no point to *anything.*

{{GM}}He sighs and looks at your companion.{{/GM}}

Great life you have here, runner.
But why? This place makes you feel like your life has no value. Like there's just no point to *anything.*

{{GM}}He sighs and looks at your companion.{{/GM}}

Great life you have here.
The steps lead down to the winding route back to Heoi.
{{GM}}Return to Heoi.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Stay here for now.{{/GM}}
The guards are talking amongst themselves excitedly as you arrive. Then they're instantly alert, exchanging nervous glances. Their leader speaks up, addressing them with all the confidence he can muster.
We're the last line of defense and we are going to hold them here. Do you understand?
The guards are clearly frightened but appear ready to follow his orders. You can see his confidence rising at their reactions.
Stop where you are, *runner.*

Drop your weapons or we'll open fire.
There's a trail of blood behind me wider than the South China Sea. You gonna be smart about this and drop your guns?
We just took down your whole security network and cut our way through your best squad. You sure this is how you want to play this?
{{GM}}Attack.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The guard looks to his coworkers and nods to you.{{/GM}}

Yes, we are definitely gonna be smart about it.

{{GM}}He takes his finger off the trigger and begins lowering his weapon.{{/GM}}

You just walk away, and we'll go back to talking about Urban Brawl.
{{GM}}Attack.{{/GM}} I thought you said you were gonna be smart. Never lower your weapon, before the other guy lowers theirs.
{{GM}}Attack.{{/GM}} I wish I could do that, but I have a "no witnesses" policy.
Smart play. We never saw each other.
The guards lower their weapons.
{{GM}}The guard looks to his coworkers and nods to you.{{/GM}}

Nope, this is definitely *not* how we want to play this. Let's just pretend that we never saw each other, okay?

{{GM}}He takes his finger off the trigger and begins lowering his weapon.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Attack.{{/GM}} I don't play "Let's Pretend."
A sullen-looking troll stands on the periphery of the kitchen. He turns to you, shoulders slumped forward, and sighs.
No restaurant service tonight. The kitchen staff's too busy with the party to serve anyone.

Wish I could get onto that balcony...

{{GM}}He sniffs the air wistfully.{{/GM}}

All that delicious food!
See? This guy knows what's up.
Looks fancy. Who's throwing this shindig?
What's so special about this party?
Why can't you get in?
A trid producer, I think. Saw some actors out there earlier. Same ones who act in Promises in Moonlight.

{{GM}}He fiddles shyly.{{/GM}}

Have you... seen the show?
{{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} Of course! Can't wait for the new season.
I'm afraid not.
I don't have time for that trid crap.
{{GM}}His eyes widen excitedly.{{/GM}}

Me too! That twist with Lady Cheung in the last episode... what a cliffhanger! I couldn't believe it.
Me neither. Good luck with the kitchen, buddy.
{{GM}}His eyes widen excitedly.{{/GM}}

You *need* to see it. It's the best show on trideo. Ever!

{{GM}}He leans in, face inches from yours.{{/GM}}

*Ever.*
I'll, uh, get right on that. Good luck with the kitchen, buddy.
{{GM}}His jaw drops in surprise.{{/GM}}

What? You *need* to see it. It's the best show on trideo. Ever!

{{GM}}He leans in, face inches from yours.{{/GM}}

*Ever.*
Are you kidding? There are tons of trid stars out there!

Man, I'd love to get my picture taken with Derek Yuen or Wing Mak-Lam. They're in Promises in Moonight. You... know the show, right?

{{GM}}He fiddles shyly.{{/GM}}
Guests only. The guy throwing it seems connected to the trid industry. There are tons of actors in there - some of them from Promises in Moonlight.

{{GM}}He fiddles shyly.{{/GM}}

You know the show. Right?
Kitchen's still ignoring us mundanes.

{{GM}}He shakes his head sadly.{{/GM}}

I'm *this* close to hoofin' it to a noodle shop.
Dove Totem
Sets all spirits' under your control breakaway chance to 0% within 3 tiles of yourself.
Dove: 0% Escape Chance When Within 3 Tiles of Summoner
Only a small quantity of data resides here. The file header says something about a shutdown procedure for Lab Twelve, but it's bogged down in technical terms and code names that make understanding the contents of the file difficult.
However, one data block clearly contains a few pass phrases.
{{GM}}Touching her brow with two fingers, Eos smiles.{{/GM}}

Hey hey, welcome back! Something else you need?
{{GM}}A redheaded elf is hunched over her table, her eyes firmly locked on a disassembled micro-drone she has spread out across it. A nametag on her jumpsuit's collar says "EOS" in bold letters. After a few moments, she sighs heavily and mutters under her breath.{{/GM}}

Oh, come on. Don't tell me I lost the EMS tranducer...
{{GM}}Eos frantically begins searching the area around the table. Methodically sifting through cigarette butts, stale gum, and orange peels, she squeals with excitement as she finds a small circuit.{{/GM}}

Got you! That's a relief and half.

{{GM}}She places it gingerly in one of her pockets.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}As she turns her attention back toward the table, she spares you a quick glance.{{/GM}}

Watch your step. I don't think anything else fell off the table, but I won't know for sure until I get this back together.
Are you sure a bar is the best place to do drone repair?
I'll be careful.
Maybe you should be more careful.
No, but the guy who lives next door to me is doing some kind of heavy duty electrical work, and it's filling my apartment with static electricity. Didn't want to risk frying this little guy's guts.

{{GM}}She leans over, peering closely at some particular part.{{/GM}}
Ahh, crap. This is gonna take more work than I thought... Oh well. Another time.

{{GM}}Sweeping the drone pieces up into a pile with her hands, she scoops them into one of her jumpsuit's many pockets. She turns to face you, giving you her full attention.{{/GM}}

You're Kindly's hired help, aren't you? The name's Eos.
Yeah, I gathered that from the nametag.
Isn't that a line of cameras?
Nice to meet you. I'm $(s.name)
{{GM}}The elf flicks a nail against the tag, grinning crookedly.{{/GM}}

Some jackass at the public laundromat keeps trying to walk off with my stuff, so I've been writing my name on things. Makes me feel a bit like a kid, but I don't have to keep buying new armor, at least.
Well, it's also the Greek titan of dawn, but if you want to associate me with cameras... Okay, I guess?

I mean, I'm more of a drone person, but I guess I could fix your camera too. If you had one.
Nice to meet you. Glad to get your name - it's a lot nicer than 'that foreigner', which seems to be what most of the locals call you.

{{GM}}She pulls out a business card made of stamped sheet metal and puts it on the table.{{/GM}}

We're in the same line of work, you know. You ever need a rigger, look me up. Very affordable rates, and I guarantee results.
Thanks. I'd be doing this at home, but my neighbor's got some kind of heavy duty electrical work going on, and it's fritzing out the unshielded parts of this little guy. Had to vacate or risk frying his internals.

{{GM}}She leans over, peering closely at some particular part.{{/GM}}
I'm trying to do drone surgery in a *bar*, with big oafs bumping into the table. I'm about as careful as I can be. Especially since I can't work at home - my neighbor's got some kind of heavy duty unshielded electical equipment playing havoc with my instruments.

{{GM}}She leans over, peering closely at some particular part.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Eos has the internal workings of a micro-drone spread out on the table in front of her. She pokes and prods at it with a multimeter, studiously marking the results on a nearby PDA. As you approach, she holds up a hand.{{/GM}}

Shhh, $(l.name). Thirty seconds. Then I'll have all of this down, and can give you--
{{GM}}There is a sudden popping noise, and a thin wisp of smoke trails up from the drone's innards. Eos stands stock still, and then throws her hands up in the air in defeat.{{/GM}}

Fine, you stupid drone! Be that way! I didn't like you anyway.
Maybe you shouldn't be working on drones in a bar.
What happened there?
Eh. I was trying out a new power cell. It wasn't rated for this size drone, but I figured it was worth a shot - I wanted to mount a tiny stun gun on the underside.

{{GM}}She mournfully prods the dead drone a few times, and then sweeps the remnants into a pocket of her jumpsuit.{{/GM}}

Stupid idea anyway. Next time, I'll use a hypodermic needle, fill it with Neurostun or something.
{{GM}}Eos is examining a disassembled micro-drone, the parts spread across the grimy table she's at. She excitedly waves you over.{{/GM}}

Hey, $(l.name)! Check this out!
What are you doing that in here for?
Exactly what am I checking out?
My neighbor's doing some kind of work on an unshielded electrical system. It's screwing with my instruments - but that's not important!

{{GM}}She points at a battery on the table with her little finger.{{/GM}}

*This* is a heartbreaking work of staggering genius, it is.
{{CC}}Drone Control: 1{{/CC}} That battery is way too big for that drone.
I have no idea what I'm looking at.
Psh, says you! That's why I've got it hooked up to a stun gun!

Think about it: a drone the size of a giant cockroach, packing a miniature stun gun. What a great way to quietly incapacitate a guard! Don't tell me you don't like it.
Okay, that's pretty cool.
You're gonna overload the capacitors and fry it.
{{GM}}Eos beams proudly, and bangs a fist on the table.{{/GM}}

Knew you'd like it! Now let's just turn this little baby on and--
{{GM}}There is a sudden popping noise and a bright flash. A thin wisp of smoke trails up from the drone's innards, which are now mostly slag. Eos just stares at it, mouth open.{{/GM}}

Well, shit.
{{GM}}With a defeated sigh, Eos sweeps the parts into a pile with her hands, depositing them into one of the many pockets on her jumpsuit.{{/GM}}

Win some, lose some, I guess. So, what can I do for you?
{{GM}}Eos frowns sourly.{{/GM}}

You don't have any idea what you're talking about! It'll be fine! Here, let me turn it on to show you--
That battery's for a drone five times the size of this one. I've strapped a miniature stun gun to the underside. It can crawl up on an unsuspecting guard, and *pow*!

{{GM}}She claps her hands together with a loud crack.{{/GM}}

Sleeping guard!
Here, let me just switch it on to show you how--
A heartbreaking work of staggering genius, that's what!

{{GM}}She points at a battery on the table with her little finger, eyes wide with excitement.{{/GM}}

Eh? EH? Pretty cool, huh?
Why'd you become a rigger?
How'd you get your street name?
You have a preferred kind of job?
Later, Eos.
I've always loved cars. Old ones, new ones, even the beaters that are falling apart and you have to hold together with bailing wire and chewing gum. I like drones too, but my first love was a 2034 Alfa-Romeo Ferinata. Drove that thing until the wheels fell off.

{{GM}}Eos grins crookedly, propping her chin up on one fist.{{/GM}}
Did some work with the Atlanta film industry at first, as a stunt driver - that paid for my first vehicle control rig. It also got me into drone rigging, since smaller projects usually need camera riggers for aerial shots.

Fun times, but the pay in the CAS isn't like it is in Hollywood. It's all small-scale stuff.
Film work's a long way from being a shadowrunner.
Why'd you end up leaving the business?
Sure is. But when your mom gets sick and you can't afford to pay her medical bills, you start looking for alternatives. You turn to the shadows, you find out there's all kinds of people who want getaway drivers.

Especially if the drivers also have drones fitted with high-caliber weapons.
I started to make a name for myself. Took some jobs for the Comanche Mafia smuggling things in and out of the Pueblo Corporate Council.

{{GM}}Eos spreads her hands helplessly, grinning.{{/GM}}

And here I am. Once I got a taste for the adrenaline, I never looked back. Too much of a rush out here on the edge.
Money. Always the money. My mom got sick, and we couldn't afford the medical bills.

Turns out that in the shadows, people always need a good driver. Especially ones who also have some high altitude patrol drones that're packing guns.
Honestly? It's my sunny disposition. I'm not even kidding.

{{GM}}The elf giggles to herself for a moment, head falling back as she stares toward the ceiling.{{/GM}}
I had this friend in Vegas - a real rich, old-money type from Dubrovnik. He'd fallen on hard times, mostly because couldn't play cards for shit. Great fixer, though, because everybody loved him. He's the one who gave it to me.

"Eos," he said to me, "Your new street name should be Eos. Because whenever you show up, it's like the breaking dawn in my office."
Coulda charmed bees out of their hives, I swear to god. Last I heard, he'd finally gotten enough money to pay his debts and get the hell back to Europe.

Sure hope he did. I like to imagine him sitting on the Adriatic, sipping a negroni and reading a spy novel.
{{GM}}Eos gets a smile that spreads from ear to ear, and she leans over to whisper in a conspiratorial tone.{{/GM}}

Heists.
Any time we can get in under a ticking clock, racing against time, and get away in a cloud of burning rubber? That's where it's at, for me. One of the best jobs I've ever had was a run on a branch of Frankfurter Bankverein in Nice.

The cops were hot on our ass as soon as we got out of the vault, because the decker had been dumped from the system before he could squash the alarm.
So we rush outside, right, and our getaway car is a Skoda RK-3 that I'd modded up with a supercharger and a kinetic energy recovery system. Didn't look like much, but man... That car could haul.

We burned through those French streets like we were right out of an old Frankenheimer movie. Glorious getaway.
I hear that. Give me that rush, any day.
I prefer a quiet exit, myself.
Any run you can walk away from is a good one.
{{GM}}Eos grins at you, eyes twinkling with mischeif.{{/GM}}

I knew I liked you for a reason. Revion was hanging out the side of the car the whole time, twin pistols blazing at the cops. Never had a drive like that before or since... But I keep looking.
Don't get me wrong, I'd rather have not had the cops on us at all!

But if I have to run away from 'em, might as well be a fun drive, right?
You said it. And the aftermath - glorious!

Two weeks lounging on the beaches of Corfu, eating fresh Perch you caught right on the rocks? Revion always wanted to poach it, but come on, you gotta *grill* fish that fresh!
{{GM}}Tapping a finger to her brow, Eos grins.{{/GM}}

See you. Don't be afraid to call!
Target Leg
Does 1 AP DMG but reduces HP DMG by 4. Reduced accuracy.
IC ChargeLaser 1 (Matrix)
Auto-Loader Cyber-Arm
This arm has been programmed to reload a variety of weapons at high speed, eliminating the need to reload manually. Passive: +1 Quickness.
Lightning Fells the Oak
The opener attack in the Heaven Stance chain. Pierces 1 Armor. Critical chance and DMG are increased.
Mystic Armor: Force 6
Activate Mystic Armor
Shield 3.0
Incoming DMG from attacks is reduced by 50 for 4 RNDS.
Shield: All Incoming DMG -50
RETRIBUTION
The Tolo Harbour Industrial Complex is a sprawling maze of warehouses, autofabrication facilities, shipping container mazes, and corporate power. If something corporate-owned is shipped through Hong Kong, it invariably moves through these streets.

The Renraku shipping facility lies far enough away from the heart of Tolo Harbour that you won't have to worry about corporate security other than the on-site guards - and Renraku's extraterritoriality means that any fighting won't risk backup from rent-a-cops.
Renraku Support Specialist
Ishida
Red Samurai Gunner
Sasaki
Takagawa
Renraku Captain
Renraku Mage
Renraku Guard
Renraku Enforcer
$(scene.nameTanjiro)
Blocker IC: Rating 2
Locate the Drone Prototype
Set the Quarantine Room Trap
Gaichu Must Survive
Unsuppress the Alarm to Draw in the Red Samurai
Defeat the Red Samurai Squad
Confront the Red Samurai Captain
Gaichu must be present.
Foul, oily water rains down from above. Mixes with the filth and offal and swill of the streets. Turns it into a flowing slurry of unrecognizable sewage.
In the distance, the sounds of back-alley activity add to the ambiance at your arrival - breaking glass, the crackling hiss of a garbage fire, faint screams of terror punctuated by the occasional gunshot. Sex and business and violence and misery blended into one.
{{GM}}Wu winces at the stink. Waves a hand in front of his face.{{/GM}}

Raymond said that prosperity is in the Walled City, but I don't see it.

Why the hell would he want to set one foot in this place?
You got me. As I said, the Walled City is the worst slum in the eastern hemisphere. Maybe in the world.

{{GM}}A rat pokes its head out of a fold in her clothing. Squeals softly. She reaches up a hand to comfort it.{{/GM}}

There's something wrong with this place. It isn't just a slum, it feels... poisonous, somehow. On an astral level. It churns my stomach to even come near it.
{{GM}}Wu nods in agreement.{{/GM}}

Okay, you were right. This isn't the Barrens. It feels... I don't know... thicker.

{{GM}}He goggles the place.{{/GM}}

Which way?
The Lotus Den. That's what Bao calls his little corner of hell. I don't know where it is offhand, but I have a way of finding things.

{{GM}}There's a flurry of motion at her hip, and a second pair of beady eyes appears. Gobbet shifts her hand from one rat to the other, stroking each in turn.{{/GM}}
They probably aren't expecting anyone to come in force. We can kick in the door, drop the guards, hand over the message, and get the hell out.
Kindly doesn't want them dead, she wants them to remember where their loyalties lie. It's tough to remember much of anything when you've got a bullet in your head.
I mean, we *could* kill them if you really wanted to. Technically, Bao is the only one that has to live. But I'd rather keep Auntie Cheng happy than piss her off again.
That'll be up to them.
This group's safety is my biggest concern. We don't need to risk our necks for a bunch of triad thugs.
We may need Kindly Cheng, but she doesn't own us. We make our own decisions.
If they don't try and kill us, we don't dust 'em. Got it.
Let's get this done.
I like the way you think!
Damn right. Let's do this.
You have an independent streak. I like that.
Damn right we do. Now let's get this done.
If they don't try and kill us, they live. Got it.
I like the way you think.

{{GM}}The decker looks around her. Wrinkles her nose.{{/GM}}

I want out of this place as fast as possible.
That's a good head space to stay in.
Glad you think so. Now let's get this done.
Who knows? He'd have to be insane to travel *to* the Walled City... As I think we said, it's the worst slum in the eastern hemisphere. Maybe the worst in the world.

{{GM}}She does her best to suppress a shudder. Can't keep the dread from creeping into her voice.{{/GM}}

Can't believe I grew up here.
Sorry to have to drag you back.
Then I'm glad I brought you. You know the place.
Some home.
{{GM}}Is0bel looks around her. Closes her eyes.{{/GM}}

You could've brought Gobbet instead. I would've been cool with that.
{{GM}}She peers up at the catwalks and sky bridges that connect the rotting tenement's sagging architecture. Frowning, she points to a spot in the distance.{{/GM}}

There was a market over there when I was a kid. Might not be a bad place to start.
I thought you knew where to find Strangler Bao.
I do. We need to get into the Lotus Den. That's what Bao calls the little island of control that he's carved out for himself here.

It's a stupid name, but it stuck.

He'll have guards posted at every entrance, but we might be able to find a way around them through the market. That's what Kindly would prefer.
{{GM}}Is0bel looks around her. Closes her eyes.{{/GM}}

I wish that I didn't.
{{GM}}Is0bel looks around her. Closes her eyes.{{/GM}}

Tell me about it.
Mark Target 2.0a
Uses the Decking skill for accuracy. If successful, marks an enemy, causing them to become 15% easier to hit. Strips 1 Armor.
Doberman Mk. 2
A basic combat drone that every rigger should own at least once in their shadow career.
Ganger's Shotgun
Shotgun: Held together by duct tape, this shotgun has seen many owners.
Venom Splash III
Incoming DMG from attacks is reduced by 25 for 4 RNDS.
Activate Dermal Sheath
The implanted dermal sheath begins reconstructing itself, healing damage from combat.
Decreases the target's Armor by 5 for 3 RNDs. Shares a cooldown with other Strip Armor spells.
Increases the friendly target's AP by 1 for 2 RNDS.
The door is secured by a lock with a badly dented keypad. The keys themselves are deeply scored, as though somebody had gone to work on them with a penknife.
{{CC}}Decking: 3{{/CC}} {{GM}}Bypass the panel.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Ask Is0bel to bypass the panel.{{/GM}}
2580
Nothing to it.

{{GM}}She loads up a program on her deck and effortlessly decodes the door lock.{{/GM}}
Venom Splash II
Bloodthirsty Katana
Heckler & Koch G12A3z (Smartlink)
Rifle: Smaller than most assault rifles, yet with a powerful punch. Further improved with the addition of a Smartlink system.
Red Samurai Captain
Heal Team Wounds
Made for CorpSec but can be found on the street. Grants +1 Spellcasting, +1 Willpower, and +5 HP.
Overclock
Racter overclocks the targeted drone, increasing its AP by 2 and Movement by 2 for 1 RND.
Overclock: AP +2, Movement +2
Two attacks in one action. Low critical damage. Increases accuracy by 10%. Uses four bullets.
A mouth of teeth that rips your flesh and does a minumum of 8 HP damage.
Xiaozhi left her computer unlocked.

{{GM}}She plugs her deck into it and scans the screen.{{/GM}}

She has the Plastic-Faced Man's complete itinerary. This will tell us everywhere he's going to be for the next 24 hours.
We have the upper hand here. Let's play it safe and keep it that way.
I want to hit this guy hard and fast, before anyone knows we're after him.
Anything promising?
Sounds good to me.

{{GM}}She pauses. Accesses a few files, does some searches.{{/GM}}

First, the bad news. He's got a security detail that drives him from place to place - six corporate agents, plus the driver. Any time he's on the move, he's in a reinforced bulletproof limo. He's also got a personal bodyguard that's with him at all times.
But there are some windows of opportunity we can take advantage of. When he's going someplace, they drop him off and leave him in the hands of local security, if any. The bodyguard stays behind, but the other six guards stay with the driver.

The detail itself is shared by a few executives, so they will be with someone else until his next pick-up time. The convoys are on a schedule managed by the master system at Tsang HQ.
Okay, I've got three good leads here. I think we can run an extraction on any one of these.

Number one: the parking garage at Central Plaza. He's there for a meeting in an hour. We can grab him on the way out.

It's still secured corporate property, so there will be resistance. But it's the weakest out of the corporate properties he visits. Plus side, there won't be any civilians - access is limited, and he's listed as a VIP in their system.
Not bad. Enclosed space means he can't run.
Too secure. I'm not into it.
I would like to hear all the options. This one is both good and bad.
Not a fan so far. Keep going.
It's a compromise. I think the benefits outweigh the downsides. But it will be a straight fight the whole way through.
Interesting. Next lead?
I hope the next one is better.
Next one is a bit personal. Mr. Plastic has a mistress, visits her twice a week. Today's the day. He'll be at the Fa Yuen Tower building for two hours.

It's not corporate property, but it is privately owned. The management company has a security contract on it, so it's likely we'll have a fight on our hands trying to get out of there with him in tow.

It'll be less crowded than the parking garage, but the lady might complicate things.
Better than the last one, but security on a building like the Fa Yuen Tower is still no joke.
Interesting. Who goes for a plastic-faced guy?
This approach sends a message. That is noteworthy. Whether you want to send that message is your business.
I'd rather not involve the woman. Our problem is with Tsang's corp.
Our fight is with Tsang's corporation. They're the ones who took Raymond. I would prefer to leave this woman out of it.
Alright, what's the last location?
And door number three. What's behind it?
We have to grab him before he gets home tonight. Once he's home, we're screwed - he's staying in the Tsang Executive Arcology, guarded 24/7 by corporate security and two blocks from the HKPF HQ.

The final location we could grab him is his last stop for the evening. It's a locally owned public SimSense theater. A hole in the wall that specializes in underground Horror flicks.
He's there for an hour and 45 minutes, and his security detail will be all the way across town to pick someone else up. We'll probably have to deal with local police only.

But this is a PUBLIC theater. It's going to be packed with regular people just trying to take in a movie.
Any thoughts, Duncan?
Your take, Gobbet?
Gaichu, anything to say?
What's your choice, Is0bel?
Racter, ever had to do anything like this?
Garage is my pick. Cars in the garage will provide cover, limited entrances and exits to worry about reinforcements. Small amount of collateral damage.

The SimSense parlor and the apartment are going to end in blood. Maybe less of our blood, but more of someone else's. I don't want that on my head.
Garage doesn't have enough escape routes. Too secure. Too many potential reinforcements. I'm not into it.

Personally, I'd go with the mistress' place. It's like a giant middle finger right in his face. It sends a message - don't mess with us.
I see only downsides at each of these locations. It is up to you.
I agree with Gobbet. The apartment is the best target. If this man is truly bad, his consorts can be punished as well.
The parking garage. It's a compromise. I think the benefits outweigh the downsides. But it will be a straight fight the whole way through.
The parking garage is a bad idea. Unless we have time to procure some C6 explosives to make our own way out when we get cornered.

Too much concrete. Too many men to die for their masters.

I would go to the SimSense theater. It's a soft target. Best odds of success.
The crew turns to you expectantly.
Let's take the parking garage. It's a middle ground, and no innocents.
Hit the mistress' apartment. I have no problem teaching this guy a lesson.
The SimSense theater. Security is weakest there.
Okay, the call is made. We go with the middle ground.
In that case...

{{GM}}Is0bel taps a few more keys on her deck.{{/GM}}

I've got the code to the front door, here. It's 112798. You'll need it to get in.
Okay, the call is made. Weak security it is.
Your partner in crime turns to you expectantly.
This is good intel. Let's see where it can take us.

{{GM}}She pauses. Accesses a few files, does some searches.{{/GM}}

First, the bad news. He's got a security detail that drives him from place to place - six corporate agents, plus the driver. Any time he's on the move, he's in a reinforced bulletproof limo. He's also got a personal bodyguard that's with him at all times.
Absolutely. I just need to run some searches on these locations... see if I can get blueprints, photos.

{{GM}}She pauses, typing on her deck.{{/GM}}

First, the bad news. He's got a security detail that drives him from place to place - six corporate agents, plus the driver. Any time he's on the move, he's in a reinforced bulletproof limo. He's also got a personal bodyguard that's with him at all times.
Your commlink clicks to life. It's Is0bel.
Have you met with the information broker yet?
Yeah, but it went South. She tried an ambush.
Josephine Tsang got to her first. I had to put her down.
Yep. Met her, killed her, found her computer. Can you help?
Since we're talking, I'm guessing the ambush didn't work out so well for her.
Tsang got to her? Then she knows we're close to the Plastic-Faced Man.
Sounds eventful. Yeah, I can help.
Plug your PDA into Xiaozhi's computer and I'll scan it for anything we can use.
Is that safe?
{{GM}}Plug your PDA into the computer.{{/GM}}
C'mon, $(l.name). It's me.
This won't take long. The data is already indexed.

{{GM}}She pauses. Accesses a few files, does some searches.{{/GM}}

It looks like this itinerary tell us everywhere he's going to be for the next 24 hours.
We're standing by, Is0bel.
First, the bad news. He's got a security detail that drives him from place to place - six corporate agents, plus the driver. Any time he's on the move, he's in a reinforced bulletproof limo. He's also got a personal bodyguard that's with him at all times.
Access Card
>An dull white access card with no markings at all.
Alarm klaxons blare, and the emergency lights flash red.

The scuttling charges are armed and primed to explode. Somewhere deep inside the Sinking Ship, an internal countdown begins.
The distant sounds of gunfire cause Gobbet to blink.

She turns to look at you, and a frown spreads across her face.
Uhhh... $(story.Global_Nickname_Gobbet)... did we tell Cadmus and his people to mutiny?
Yep. That's just what we did.
Shit.

It's probably too late to warn them, isn't it?
Yep.

Sorry, Gobbet. But we need to get out of here, and there isn't enough room on Captain Jomo's speedboat for Cadmus's supporters. There isn't even time to tell them where to go.
She's right. We need to clear the area, and we need to do it now.
Whoops.
Look on the bright side! He was dying anyway!
Well... shit. Sorry, Cad.

{{GM}}She takes a deep breath. Releases it. Then she fixes her eyes on you.{{/GM}}

Okay. I know what to do. I know the ducts in this thing like the back of my hand. I can get us back to the boat you came in on.
{{GM}}She beckons you toward an open vent hidden behind one of the raft's massive engines.{{/GM}}

C'mon, you two... let's get the hell out of here.
There's something wrong with you.
Well, that's that. We've done it... this rust bucket is going down.

{{GM}}She slaps the wall with a sneer.{{/GM}}

Good riddance. And Cadmus and his people should be able to make it to safety, too.
Maybe we should hold off on celebrating until we've made it off of the raft.
Good plan.
You think?
I dunno. Maybe we should hang around, watch the fireworks.
I know the ducts in this thing like the back of my hand. I can get us back to the boat you came in on.

{{GM}}She beckons you toward an open vent hidden behind one of the raft's massive engines.{{/GM}}

C'mon, you two. Let's get the hell out of here.
Yeah, we're going, we're going. Thankfully, I know the ducts in this thing like the back of my hand... I can get us back to the boat you came in on.

{{GM}}She beckons you toward an open vent hidden behind one of the raft's massive engines.{{/GM}}

C'mon, you two. Let's get the hell out of here.
Gobbet pulls up short, blinking.

She turns to you, a quizzical look on her face.
...Uh, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)... did we forget something? I've got this nagging feeling that maybe we were supposed to--
We didn't sound the alarm.

{{GM}}She checks her pockets. Slaps a new clip into her slivergun. Her tone is completely matter-of-fact.{{/GM}}

Cadmus and his people are going to die.
Hey! Who the hell are you? I don't recognize you... Which means you sure as hell don't work on this floor.

What's your business here?
Sorry, I'm lost. How do I get to Matrix Security?
I need to get into the lab.
{{GM}}Pull out your weapon.{{/GM}}
Ahh, okay. That's on floor thirty seven. This is TWENTY seven. Just head back out and when you get to floor thirty seven, turn left at the first hallway junction. You can't miss it.

I catch you back on this floor, though, I'm raising the alarm.
No you don't! Now get lost, or I'm gonna beat you until candy comes out!
Intruder! We've got an intruder here!
God dammit, what did I tell you? You're not allowed in there!
The basic melee weapon attack.
Decreases the target's Armor by 3 for 3 RNDs. Shares a cooldown with other Strip Armor spells.
As the smoke clears and the din of combat fades into the night, you take a deep breath.

It's finally over.
{{GM}}Wu grimaces in disgust as he surveys the carnage.{{/GM}}

What a goddamn mess this run was. I hope to hell Kindly Cheng can find a buyer for this data, or we're out a payday.
Cheer up, Gun Show. Auntie's a resourceful woman. And she never turns down an opportunity to make money.

Come on, let's get back home.
Auntie's resourceful. She'll find a buyer, don't worry.

Let's just get home, for now.
She seems a resourceful woman. I wouldn't worry overmuch.

For now, I'd like to get home and clean myself off.
Somewhere out there, there will be a buyer.

We should leave Ho Chung before the police come to investigate.
{{GM}}Glancing in your direction, Gobbet nods in satisfaction.{{/GM}}

This shit we dealt with tonight? That's why I cut and run.

If Auntie Cheng can't find a buyer for that data, we're out a payday.
{{GM}}Is0bel fixes you with a stern look.{{/GM}}

You'd better hope Auntie Cheng can find a buyer for that data. If she can't, nobody's paying us for tonight.
Well, that was a mess.

{{GM}}Racter shrugs helplessly.{{/GM}}

I hope Cheng can find someone to buy that data. I was counting on getting paid.
{{GM}}Cleaning his sword, Gaichu sneers.{{/GM}}

Amateurs.

I just hope Cheng can find someone to buy the data. I would like to be paid.
Let's get back home and see what she can do.
Agreed.

I am eager to be done with this.
Suppression 1.0
Reduces System Trace by 50, shares a cooldown with other suppression programs.
Mark Target 3.0a
Uses the Decking skill for accuracy. If successful, marks an enemy, causing them to become 20% easier to hit. Strips 1 Armor.
The power cabling here is deeply frayed, threatening to arc into the puddles of water below.
WHISTLEBLOWER
$(story.a2_Whistleblower_s1-WarpOutText)
$(scene.Name_HwangJaeMin)
Arms Dealer
Street Doc
Tigath Wright
Seoulpa Soldier
Seoulpa Rigger
Seoulpa Enforcer
Seoulpa Sniper
Seoulpa Grenadier
Stall Vendor
Tsunami Captain
Tsunami Conjurer
Tsunami Mage
Tsunami Enforcer
Tsunami Sniper
Tsunami Grenadier
MatrixStandin
Tsunami Adept
Meet with Hwang
Meet with Hwang Jae-Min and hear him out.
Kill the Seoulpa Ring Soldiers
Kill Hwang Jae-Min and all of his soldiers.
Meet with Tigath
Meet with Garrett Highmount.
Kill the Tir Soldiers
Kill Garrett Highmount and his soldiers.
Kill the Seoulpa and Tir Soldiers
You've made your choice: you stand alone. Kill all Seoulpa Ring and Tir Tairngire soldiers.
Talk to Hwang
Talk to Hwang Jae-Min.
Make the Hand-Off
Hand off the data and samples.
Head back to Heoi.
Talk to Tigath
Talk to Garrett Highmount.
Meet with Mysterious Caller
The ride out to the Nalchi is nerve-wracking. Captain Jomo seems an expert pilot, but massive waves threaten to scuttle his small boat at every turn. Deep thunder rolls in the distance, and at the edge of your vision, lightning occasionally illuminates your target: the MV Nalchi.

As Jomo pulls your small craft directly up to the bow of the Nalchi, where you're least likely to be spotted. He throws a rope ladder up over the side, hustling you aboard before pulling away.

Time to get to work.
Security Mage
Security Captain
Security Camera
Security Enforcer
Security Sniper
Security Conjurer
Security Rigger
Security Grenadier
Unknown Caller
Hwang Jae-Min
Get to D Deck
Get to the cargo storage area on D Deck.
Get the Tissue Samples
Steal the tissue samples and switch off the machine's power.
Get the Project Data
Download the project data and wipe the files once you're done.
Get back to the top deck and escape the MV Nalchi.
Defeat the Guards
Defeat all the guards belowdecks.
TESTBOUNCE1
An arrow of TESTBOUNCE.
Wind Blast
A blast of wind.
A rotund, balding dwarf in a cheap suit turns to face you. Light glints from the heavy gold chains that hang around his neck.

When he speaks, the voice that greets your ears is high and nasal, and has been contorted into a rough approximation of a New York accent.
Pleased ta meetcha. Cheng was kind enough to arrange this little sit-down between us.

{{GM}}He extends a slablike hand for you to shake.{{/GM}}

You can call me Dr. Shenyang.
{{GM}}Shake his hand.{{/GM}} Pleased to meet you. I'm $(s.name).
Why are you named after a city?
{{GM}}Shake his hand.{{/GM}} It's always good to meet a paying client.
His grip is as soft as his palm is moist - it's like shaking hands with a boneless ham.

You share a long, uncomfortably flaccid handshake before he finally releases you.
I'm, ah... lookin' for a little... "outside help" on a problem I've been having.

Ordinarily, I'd handle it myself or have some of my friends see to it, but it's kinda... delicate, you know?

My guys'd be noticed before they made any headway on my problem. So I figure, hey, I hire contractors all the time! Might as well get some contractors of a different stripe.
Tell me about your problem. Maybe we can help.
As long as you're paying, I'm in.
Lasting friendships are made through favors exchanged. I'm all ears.
I run a little film studio, Southern Crown Films. We mostly do trid work, but we record some sims, too. Maybe you've seen some of my stuff... "Space Mongols from the Moon"? "The Flavor of Pomegranates"? "Ultimate Kill Squad"?
{{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} Sounds familiar.
No, but I like the sound of "Ultimate Kill Squad." How much killing do they do?
Can't say I've had the pleasure.
Oh, a fan! Good, it's always nice ta meet a fellow film enthusiast.

Anyway, there's this other guy in the industry, and we've been buttin' heads since day one. Name's Neville Ma, and he runs Yellow Springs Studios.

No matter what I do, I can't shut Ma outta the biz. He always manages to get one over on me, steal my stars... It's a tough racket, and if you wanna stay on top, ya gotta use every advantage ya can get.
Recently, Ma's been runnin' me into the ground with this show called "Promises in Moonlight." The star's a girl named Penelope Wong. New talent, but the viewers have been goin' nuts over her. She's the linchpin, the one who holds the whole show together.
...And so, you want something to happen to Ms. Wong?
Hang on, I'm gettin' there.

So about six months ago, Neville was out in Guangzhou for some hoity-toity party. He's on the road, probably drunk, a semi comes outta nowhere, and POW! Wrecks his fancy new Eurocar Westwind.

Bad luck for Neville, good luck for me. I figure, hey, that's the end of him for the year, and I start plannin' some new stuff he can't compete with from inside a hospital. You follow me so far?
Yes. Please keep going.
Lemme guess. He found a way to compete with you from the hospital.
Problem is, the bastard's back in the game already. And he's bringin' out season two of "Promises in Moonlight."

I need that show off the air, one way or another. And that, my friend, is where you come in.
How long did it take him to recuperate?
Already? That's strange.
Tough break. Maybe the wreck wasn't that bad?
I tell ya, kid, he shoulda been in that hospital for at least three months, and in physical therapy a lot longer. Only took him like a week to get out. Couldn't freakin' believe it.

That kinda medical care costs top dollar. He's got a lot of money, but not THAT much.
Recovery time like that means that one of two things is goin' on.

Neville could've found himself a silent partner... someone willin' to pay top dollar for cutting-edge care. I don't think it's likely, but it coulda happened.

If it ain't that, the smart money says that he's been skimmin' off the top of Yellow Springs' earnings and not reporting it to the other shareholders.
Tell me how I fit into this.
And you want me to look into that, I take it.
I need you to go get me something to blackmail Neville with. Find out how he could afford to get outta the hospital so fast.

He works out of his penthouse most days, so search his computer, closet, sock drawer, whatever. There's gotta be something incriminating in there.
Where is this penthouse?
Neville lives in The Repulse Bay - it's this real swanky joint on the south end of Hong Kong Island, by the bay with the same name. I haven't been able to get anybody in to poke around his apartment, because the security's too tight.

Lucky for you, though, Neville's throwing a party on the mezzanine level with all the shops and a restaurant and balcony and such. He's celebrating the second season launch of his show, and everybody's gonna be there. Gonna make a real snarl for the building security.
You might also wanna hit up the party if you can bluff your way in - everyone close to Neville will be there, and most of 'em will be three sheets to the wind by the time you get there. Some discreet questioning might get me the dirt that I need.

Just remember, if you go to the party, don't use your real name. Go with "Argyle." Should be safe enough, there's nobody in the biz out here with that name, so nobody'll ask any questions about how your work's going.
I've gotta say, Dr. Shenyang, this job sounds pretty underhanded to me.
Hit the apartment, hit the party, dig up blackmail information on Neville Ma. Sounds easy enough.
Couldn't you just make a better show?
{{GM}}He snorts.{{/GM}}

Are you kidding? Underhanded is when I frame you for indecent acts on your last trip to Cambodia. Blackmail’s just business.
Now, the blackmail material is what I need more than anything. But if you can get Penelope Wong outta her contract, I'll pay you *extra,* got it? I want that star power on *my* side.
One last thing... I don't want you starting a scene while you're there. You interrupt his party, make a mess, or trash his apartment, and I'm not paying you. We clear on that?
We're clear.
Why the concern? If you're gonna hamstring me before I even go on the run, I wanna know why.
Good. I can't have Ma knowin' that I'm after him. In my business, everybody's got dirty tricks, but if you make it public you're using 'em?

{{GM}}Dr. Shenyang draws a finger across his throat.{{/GM}}

That's it. My career's as dead as the People's Republic of China. Nobody'll work for or with me ever again. So don't embarrass me, hey?
Understood. I'll be discreet.
No mess, no guns. Got it.
Got it. Reputation is important. I'll make sure that yours remains intact.
That's what I like to hear! You scratch my back, I scratch yours. You can get paid, and I'll put the word out you're a solid hire.
You don't seem like you deal with shadowrunners much.
Sounds like we have a deal, then.
Shadowrunners, moonlight prancers… Who gives a crap? I got money and a job, and I don’t care who does it as long as the price is right. What's more, I got a lotta friends around town, and a lot of 'em run in your circles, too.
{{GM}}He looks up at you, eagerness in his eyes.{{/GM}}

So what, we got a deal? You gonna do it?
We have a deal.
{{GM}}His grin widens.{{/GM}}

Good $(l.man)! That's what I like to hear!

When you're done, drop Cheng a line - I'll come meet you back here and I'll hand over the money.
Well, don't think too long. You get to that party and get me what I need, I'll pay ya plenty. You miss out? I let people know you left me hanging. Clock's ticking, you know?
Oh, you can pack heat. Just don't kill anybody at the party or in Ma's apartment... you gotta fight, you find somewhere else to do it.

If security gets on you, do what ya gotta - I'd rather explain a few bullet holes than a pile of dead shadowrunners. Got me?
Yeah, got it.
Good. If you pull this off, I'll recommend you to all my friends, too.
Glad to hear it! Listen, you do this for me, I'll make sure you're not only paid well... but I'll also tell all my friends that you come highly recommended.
Because it's gauche, and I can't have Ma knowing I'm after him. In my business, everybody's got dirty tricks, but if you make it public you're using 'em?

{{GM}}Dr. Shenyang draws a finger across his throat.{{/GM}}

That's it. My career's as dead as the People's Republic of China. Nobody'll work for or with me ever again. So don't embarrass me, hey?
{{GM}}He nods vigorously.{{/GM}}

Oh, yeah... Cheng talked you up when I approached her with the job. Given what she told me, this job should be cake.
It's not just a better show. It's Penelope Wong, too. I get her, I get all her fans, too. They'll watch anything she's in.

Listen, it's like this... A little blackmail never hurt anybody, all right? Well, except the person you're blackmailing. It's just how things work in the industry. I don't dislike the guy, but I gotta stay on top of the business.
Tell me about it. He shoulda been in that hospital for at least three months, and in physical therapy a lot longer. Only took him like a week to get out. Couldn't freakin' believe it.

That kinda medical care costs top dollar. He's got a lot of money, but not THAT much.
Yeah, right. His car was totaled. No way he walked out of that wreck unscathed.

I tell ya, kid, he shoulda been in that hospital for at least three months, and in physical therapy a lot longer. Only took him like a week to get out. Couldn't freakin' believe it.

That kinda medical care costs top dollar. He's got a lot of money, but not THAT much.
No, worse. The bastard is *out* of the hospital. He's back in the game, bringin' out season two of "Promises in Moonlight."

I need that show off the air, one way or another. And that, my friend, is where you come in.
{{GM}}He offers you a chipped-toothed grin.{{/GM}}

A lot. There's this one scene where two trolls gang up on an elf, and they... well, I don't wanna spoil it. But believe me, it is *glorious.*

I'll send a copy over to Cheng so that ya can take a look.
Anyway, there's this other guy in the industry, and we've been buttin' heads since day one. Name's Neville Ma. He runs Yellow Springs Studios. No matter what I do, I can't shut him out of the biz. He always manages to get one over on me, steal my stars.

He's been runnin' me into the ground with this show called "Promises in Moonlight." The star's a girl named Penelope Wong. New talent, but the viewers have been goin' nuts over her. She's the show's linchpin.
Ahh, too bad! I'll send some over to Cheng so ya can take a look.
I'm a doctor, and I'm from Shenyang. You slow or something?
Sorry, I didn't mean to offend.
You're a doctor?
Nah, you're okay, kid. You ain't from around here, so I'll let it slide this time.

Now, you gonna shake my hand, or what?
{{GM}}Shake his hand.{{/GM}} Sorry. Didn't mean to leave you hanging.
Absolutely! Doctor of cosmetic dentistry, courtesy of Shaoguan Correspondence University.

Two thousand nuyen well spent, let me tell you - the "doctor" in front of my name adds a little whaddyacallit... panache!

Now, you gonna shake my hand, or what?
What are ya, slow? I got nothin' else for ya until you get the dirt on Ma.

{{GM}}Dr. Shenyang makes a shooing gesture with his hands.{{/GM}}

You got a job, now go do it.
{{GM}}Shenyang is busily puffing away on a foul-smelling cigar, his commlink in one hand. His eyes flash with anticipatory glee as he sees you.{{/GM}}

Dr. Shenyang greets you in the name of all producers. How'd the shindig go?
I've got the information you wanted.
Let me tell you about the night we had.
Did you know Neville had a vampire ally?
You explain the night's events - from start to finish. As you speak, Shenyang's face grows ever more incredulous, until finally his mouth is left hanging halfway open.

He slowly places the cigar in a nearby ashtray and shakes his head in disbelief.
That has got to be one of the single strangest stories I've ever heard. Vampires in the trid industry... What a nightmare. Can't believe you let that leech keep suckin' on Neville... Big ace to have in his pocket. And what if she starts bitin' on other people? Actors and whatnot?

Not an optimal outcome, but I guess it's okay - you got me Wong, and that means his show's dead.

All right, kid. I'll send payment to your Matrix drop. You earned it.
Glad to be able to help.
Damn right I did.
{{GM}}Dr. Shenyang is about to speak, but his commlink begins to buzz. Irritated, he answers it and switches to speaker mode.{{/GM}}

Yeah, who is it? Whaddya want?
Hello, Shenyang. I just wanted to let you know that I've released Penelope Wong from her contract. If you're still interested in her, she's all yours.

Also, I hope your business is doing all right. I'd heard you'd had some problems with cash flow. If you need a loan, I'd be happy to help.
{{GM}}Dr. Shenyang eyes the image of Neville Ma with deep suspicion.{{/GM}}

You don't sound too mad, Nev. What's the catch here, anyway? You must have the next big thing lined up already...
Oh, Doctor. There's no need for it.

Do you want to know why I keep winning our little contests, and you're always playing catch-up? It's because you think people like Miss Wong actually *matter.* They don't.
Stars are crafted - molded out of talent, yes, but ultimately constructed. With enough time and effort, anyone can be made into a star.

It's just a question of manipulating public perception.
Maybe so... But I got her now, and your show's dead in the water without the star. What do you think of that, eh?
I think that I'm going to do what any good soap opera producer would do - write her character out with a tragic death, and bring on someone new. You labor under the misapprehension that viewers have loyalty. They don't.

They have only appetite.
As long as you chase stars like Wong, you will lose. Don't be afraid to think bigger, Doctor. Reach for the drama, not the dramatists.

{{GM}}With that, Neville Ma hangs up on Dr. Shenyang.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}For the next thirty seconds, Dr. Shenyang releases a stream of violently imaginative invectives at his phone. Even Strangler Bao looks taken aback at the ferocity of Shenyang's anger and the inventiveness of the sexual positions that he describes. Finally, he takes a deep breath and composes himself.{{/GM}}

That dirty little weasel... Insulting my creativity like that! The nerve.
Go on, kid. We're done here. Thanks for all your help, but I gotta get going.

I gotta talk to a guy about buying a buncha snakes.
You didn't kill the vampire? I woulda shot her right in the face, but it was big of you to let her go. Seems like she was a victim of circumstance and whatnot. All's well that ends well, and I got Wong - so you can be sure it's ending well for me!

All right, kid. I'll send payment to your Matrix drop. You earned it.
A vampire, suckin' on Neville? Ain't that some shit... wouldn't have guessed that was his ticket outta the hospital. I gotta admit, I'm a little ticked off there wasn't anything else I could use to get Wong away from Neville, but that ain't your fault. And that vampire, out on the loose, to boot! Maybe if I track her down, I'll have more leverage.

All right, kid. I'll send payment to your Matrix drop. You earned it.
Well, ain't that a story and a half? Good thing you killed that bloodsucker - Hong Kong's dangerous enough without vampires runnin' around, biting actors and producers. That should put a crimp in Ma's business, even if he still has Wong. I bet gettin' fed vampire blood is pretty addicting. That's what the sims say, anyway.

All right, kid. I'll send payment to your Matrix drop. You earned it.
Vampires in the trid industry... a vampire *queen,* no less. Whatta nightmare.

At least you got me Wong, and poor Neville's show is dead. That's something.

All right, kid. I'll send payment to your Matrix drop. You earned it.
{{GM}}Dr. Shenyang is tapping away at his commlink. He peers up over the edge of it as you approach, not bothering to lower it or look fully at you.{{/GM}}

What, you want a medal or somethin'? I got work to do, kid. If I have any other jobs, I'll let ya know.

Now let me get back to this deal, all right?
A well-dressed man steps forward, his peers staring smugly in your direction. His clothes are smart and clearly expensive, but lack the typical padding worn by guards and thugs. A quick look at his associates reveals the same style.

Mages.
On behalf of Wuxing, Inc., we've been instructed to prevent your further vandalizing of the company's property and assets.

However, they never specified how. So I vote we do this the easy way.

{{GM}}The mage motions to you with a flick of his wrist.{{/GM}}

Leave no survivors!
Elevator Panel
Keypad
Data Port Terminal
Terminal
Young Ork
Mr. Drake
PDA
Decrepit Local
Hooded Woman
Chief Inspector Krait
Josephine Tsang
Young Raft-Dweller
Young Squatter
Turret Control Panel
Chorus of Servitors
Downstairs Tenant
Walker Drone
Handsome Elf
Prosperity Project Admin Terminal
Flying Drone
Refugee
Ku Feng
Chow-sang Tsui
Datastore
Financial Analyst
Drunk Heoi Smuggler
Racter overclocks the targeted drone, increasing its AP by 1 and Movement by 2 for 1 RND.
Overclock: AP +1, Movement +2
Medic Lvl 3
Heals yourself or a friendly target for 75 IP.
The drug Bliss is pumped into the bloodstream. Incoming DMG reduced by 3 and Strength reduced by 1 for 4 RNDS of combat.
5 attacks in one action that do half or normal damage. -10% to hit. The target loses their cover bonus for the rest of the turn. Uses 10 bullets.
A rack of safe boxes rests against the wall.
{{CC}}Quickness: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Hard){{/CC}} {{GM}}Manipulate the lock and force it open.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Etiquette: Security{{/CC}} {{GM}}Crack the code.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Enter the code.{{/GM}}
Combination:
The box pops open, revealing a few credsticks.
Paydata: Ares Research Files
A collection of files detailing the Ares Macrotechnology project 2231 and Complex 68G.
Medic Lvl 2
Heals yourself or a friendly target for 65 IP.
Class S Drone Turret
Increases the friendly target's AP by 1 for 4 RNDS.
Direct fire attack with a fire trail
Superhero
Chain Lightning 2
A bolt of lightning that bounces to the next closest two characters. The first bounce has a range of 8 tiles, the second has a range of 6.
Black Hammer 1.0
An attack program that hits a decker's meat body for -15 HP.
Bark Skin
Increases the target's Armor by 2. Lasts 3 RNDS.
Bark Skin: Armor +2
Punching Dagger
Unarmed: Causes moderate bleeding to target on impact, with DMG of your Strength + 2. May do AP DMG on critical hits.
The captain of this station has preapproved a limited release of Laboratory Twelve's elevator code to Omega personnel. Receipt of this message is proof of your authorization.

Warning: This information is highly sensitive and should remain restricted to Omega-plus knowledge only. Violators will experience the aforementioned blacklisting and company purging.
A list of digital conversations that have been sent from this floor appears. One in particular, an exchange between a Tsang executive and an employee in accounting, looks promising.
{{GM}}Read the conversation.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}>>Datastore Passcodes Request
>>*Lee, Shan*
>>to: Magical Research{{/GM}}

I was informed that you're the best person to contact regarding the passcodes for the magical research center.
As a new recruit to the accounting team, and with security being so tight, I lack access to the center's files that are necessary to perform my biannual accounting report. I'd appreciate it if you'd send me the codes by EoD today.

Shan Lee,
Accounting Specialist
{{GM}}>>RE: Datastore Passcodes Request
>>*Magical Research*
>>to: Shan Lee{{/GM}}

No.
What you're asking is extremely unorthodox and in blatant disregard of company protocol. My department is under constant scrutiny, and I can't afford a leak. You'll have to go through the proper channels and fill out the required paperwork if you want the passcodes.

Mei Lin-Jiao
Vice President of Magical Research
{{GM}}>>RE:RE: Datastore Passcodes Request
>>*Lee, Shan*
>>to: Magical Research{{/GM}}

Dear Ms. Lin-Jiao,

Allow me to rephrase my earlier request: you send me the passcodes, and I'll review the magical research center's finances.
I heard that your lab's been hemorrhaging funds this last quarter. Perhaps I could massage those numbers to make the lab appear more... monetarily efficient.

Shan Lee,
Accounting Specialist
{{GM}}>>RE: Datastore Passcodes Request
>>*Vice President of Magical Research*
>>to: Shan Lee{{/GM}}

Attached are the passcodes for my department's core system terminal. You will access the system only under my direct supervision.
Welcome to Tsang Mechanical Services.

Mei Lin-Jiao
Vice President of Magical Research
Ow.
Gobbet struggles up to her knees. The fall seems to have knocked the wind out of her, but she manages to croak out a few words.
T-Trap... It's... it's...

{{GM}}She struggles to her knees, coughing.{{/GM}}

...It's a trap!
Gobbet! We've been looking all over for you!
{{GM}}She struggles to stand upright, hacking.{{/GM}}

Yeah. Well... you've found me.

Ta daaaaa.
Yeah. We've found you. So do you wanna tell us what the hell you're doing here?

{{GM}}She fidgets uncomfortably.{{/GM}}

And also, what do you mean, "trap"?
Up ahead. Through those doors.

It's the kind of trap that kills you, Izz. I've never seen anyone go in there and live.
Her speech is interrupted by a violent coughing fit.

Madness and Folly scurry from her shoulders into the protective nest of her hair.
The bloodied local tosses $(s.hisher) gun aside and raises a pair of trembling hands. $+(s.hisher) eyes have gone wide with terror.
I-I’m sorry... we didn’t want to do it! We didn't have a choice!

{{GM}}The words come spilling out in a frantic babble.{{/GM}}

She… it… it ordered us to!
What "it"? What are you talking about? Explain yourself!
I... I don't know *what* it is! It talks with Malvina's voice, but it ISN'T HER!

{{GM}}Helpless tears stream down $(s.hisher) cheeks, clinging to $(s.hisher) skin like beads of dew on a leaf.{{/GM}}

If you want to live, you have to do what it says!
I'm going to let you live. Don't make me regret it.
{{GM}}Kill the squatter.{{/GM}} You were going to lead us into a trap. Nobody does that and lives.
The squatter collapses against the wall, sobbing uncontrollably.

Gobbet dusts herself off and paces toward you.
The squatter screams, but to no avail.

You make it quick.
Gobbet dusts herself off and paces toward you. The expression on her face is grim.
Heyya, Izz. Hey $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname).

I don't remember inviting you on this run, but I guess that I'm glad you could make it.
{{GM}}She jerks her head toward the squatter's ruined body.{{/GM}}

You're welcome, by the way.
Wanna tell me what the hell is going on here, Gobbet?
*We're* welcome? Gobbet, we came out here to help *you!*
Are you all right? We came looking for you.
We just shot some locals. But don't worry - they were bad people.
I'll take your word for it. What were you saying about a trap?
You got any evidence to support that?
I wanted to kill them first, and you totally ruined that!
Yeah. That's where they were leading you. I didn't want to see that happen, so I came riding to your rescue.

{{GM}}She puts her hands on her hips and widens her stance. A picture-perfect example of the classic superhero pose.{{/GM}}

You are, again, welcome.
{{GM}}Muttering under her breath, Is0bel steps forward.{{/GM}}

Gobbet. Tell us what kind of trap you're talking about.
The kind where you end up dead.

Look, I don't know exactly what they were planning to do, but I've seen them lead people through those doors before.

{{GM}}She gestures toward the heavy double doors at the end of the hall.{{/GM}}
The people who I watched go in there never came back out again. Not a one.

They'd just scream and scream, and when the doors opened up again, they'd be gone.
Well. Thanks for the warning.
So you don't actually know what's in there, then.
{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

Don't mention it.
There is a long, awkward pause.

Finally, Is0bel steps forward.
...So now that we're all together, do you want to tell us why you came back here all by yourself?

We'd have gone with you, Gobbet. All that you had to do was tell us.
{{GM}}She raises her hands.{{/GM}}

Yeah, yeah, I know. But I figured that this one was on me, and I didn't want to wait another minute.

Besides, I had a plan.
You're on a boat full of hostiles, by yourself, in the dead of night, being hunted by devil rats. That doesn't sound like a great plan to me.
Yeah? And what kind of plan was that?
I didn't come back here to fight, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname).

This is a recon mission. I wanted to scope the place out, and it's easier to do that solo than it would've been dragging you two along.
...No offense.
So you've scoped the place out. Fine. Mission accomplished.

Do you know what you're doing now...?
Yeah. This place is fucked.

I'm gonna sink it.
Wait a second. What?
The Sinking Ship is doomed, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). I could feel that the second I set foot on board.

{{GM}}She checks herself.{{/GM}}

Earlier than that, even.

On some level, I think that I could feel it back home. That's why I couldn't stop thinking about this place.
Whatever is happening here, it's *wrong.* This whole place feels off to me, somehow... maybe even toxic.

I came back to find my friends, Cadmus and Malvina. To check on them. Instead, I found a swarm of maneating rats, a deathtrap, and a bunch of squatters who seem intent on killing me.
{{GM}}Her tone becomes brisk.{{/GM}}

So. I'm going to kill 'em right back. And I'm gonna use the scuttling charges that are still embedded in the hull to do that.

I've already handled the ones on this level, but I haven't gone down below yet. We need to activate the charges below the water line if we're gonna bring this sucker down.
And so that's where you're heading next? Downward?
Not quite, on account of the trap. I don't know how to get past it yet.

{{GM}}She frowns.{{/GM}}

Minor setback, right? So my next step was to figure that out.
Makes sense to me. Time to go ask some pointed questions, then?
We haven't found Cadmus or Malvina yet. They could still be alive somewhere, maybe even on this level.
You've still got friends on this raft, Gobbet. We ran into Cadmus earlier - he wants to see you.
I've got a better idea. Let's pack up and go home!
{{GM}}She nods enthusiastically.{{/GM}}

Somebody on this level must know how to get past that thing... I'd put money on Cadmus knowing, if we could find him.

He was always more of a mechanic than he was a shaman.
Let's go.
I've met Cadmus. He's in quarantine.
The locals that we just fought said that he was in quarantine.
{{GM}}She stares at you, concern in her eyes.{{/GM}}

Take me to him. Now.
Yeah. Maybe.

I hope so, because of all the people on this raft, Cad is the one I'd most trust to get us past whatever's in that room.

He was always more of a mechanic than he was a shaman.
We have to figure out how to get past the trap - I get that. But let's keep our eyes open while we're doing that. There could be more going on here than you realize.
Let's get this over with. The sooner we learn how to get past that room, the sooner we can blow this thing and go home.
I seriously doubt it. Remember what I told you about second guessing.
$+(l.he) isn't second guessing anything. We haven't seen enough to make a decision yet. You may have, but *we* haven't.
{{GM}}Gobbet lets out an exasperated sigh.{{/GM}}

...Al right, Izz. You wanna look around? We'll do that. But afterwards, we're arming the rest of those charges.
Let's move.
That's great! Of all the people on this raft, Cad is the one I'd most trust to get us past whatever's in that room.

He was always more of a mechanic than he was a shaman.
You wanna leave? Go the way that you came. I'll finish up here and meet you back on the $(story.Global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName).

I'm not going anywhere until I sink this thing, and that means finding Cadmus. You can either help me with that or get out of my way.
A pretty simple one. All I wanted to do was get the lay of the land. Sneak around a little, maybe find my old friends and get some answers.

I didn't come here to get into a firefight, and it's easier to be quiet solo than it would be dragging you two around. No offense.
No. But judging by all the screaming, I'm gonna make an educated guess that it's probably something bad.
Sure. Eyewitness testimony, by me.

{{GM}}Her lip curls into a frown.{{/GM}}

Why are we arguing about this?
{{GM}}Is0bel cuts in.{{/GM}}

You said that they were leading us into a trap back there. What kind of trap are we talking about?
Huh. Well, sorry about that.

I kinda had to act fast, though. They were leading you into a trap, and all.
What kind of trap are we talking about?
...And now that I've finished pulling your ass out of the fire, maybe you can do that.

Did I mention that they were leading you into a trap? Because that's what they were doing.
Yeah, you mentioned it. What kind of trap?
Really? I thought you were visiting The Sinking Ship for its wonderful food and beautiful views.

{{GM}}She flashes you a weak smile.{{/GM}}

...And yeah. I'm okay.
Look, I'm sorry about the sudden entrance, and everything. I wish that I'd had time to explain what was going down. But I didn't, because, well...

{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

Trap.
Yeah, you mentioned that. What kind of trap are we talking about?
$(l.sir). I asked you to leave your friends here, or vacate the premises.
Yeah, I remember. I've decided not to.
I'd rather not.
I don't give a damn about what you want me to do.
Then I'll have to remove you by force.

{{GM}}He readies his weapon.{{/GM}}

Guards!
Sure, I'll play.
Increases the friendly target's AP by 1 for 3 RNDS.
Spoofed ID
Some falsified credentials that Kindly provided. They will stand up to only a quick glance. Best not to rely on these for long.
Chain Lightning 1
A basic melee attack.
SHAMAN PRIEST
Place Holder
Feral Ghoul
Basic Blaster 2.0
Steyr AUG-CSL
Rifle: An innovative assault rifle that marks fired ammo with a tracer, making the target easier to hit on subsequent shots.
{{GM}}A security guard with half-lidded eyes stifles a yawn at your approach. Blinking, she raises an arm to block your path.{{/GM}}

This doorway is restricted. Hotel staff and caterers only.

Please stay on the convention floor.
Why can't I go through?
I'm a member of hotel staff.
Will do, sorry.
{{GM}}She slows her speech to a crawl.{{/GM}}

Because. You. Aren't. Staff.

Now back down. Go mingle with your decker buddies. Talk about computer stuff, or whatever it is you people do.
I still want to go through the door.
{{GM}}Draw your weapon.{{/GM}} I'm going through that doorway.
Then get a job with the damned hotel.

{{GM}}Another yawn. She doesn't bother to hide it this time.{{/GM}}

Until you do, just... back off.
As you raise your weapon, the guard's eyes go wide. She reaches for her own sidearm.

She may be tired, but she's still a lot faster than she looks.
{{CC}}Quickness: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Hard){{/CC}} {{GM}}Shoot first.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Attack her.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The corner of her mouth tilts upward.{{/GM}}

Yeah. Sure you are.

Get back on the show floor, decker.
No problem. Enjoy the show.
This door is restricted. Don't make me tell you again.

Seriously. Get lost.
Medic Lvl 1
Heals yourself or a friendly target for 45 IP.
A poison fist that does DMG and then causes -6 HP for 1 RND.
Sapped: Willpower -2, HP -6 per RND
Pain Resistance: Force 6
Activate Pain Resistance
Immolation I
A combat stim that adds +2 Quickness and +1 AP for 5 RNDS. Popular with mercenary groups and high-end bodyguards.
Heaven Stance
Both critical chance and critical multiplier are raised. However, your Dodge is reduced by 1 and you take 2 additional points of damage from attacks. This stance cycles through two attacks, the second of which is more damaging.
Stance: Heaven
High-Grade Street Armor
Disease: HP -4, AP -1 per RND
Poison Darts 2
Drone Control Box
A control box to direct drones.
testCASTER: +1 Strength, 40 HP per RND, 3 rnds
Espionage
Gain Program:
Tar Blaster
Is0bel gains the Tar Blaster 1.0 program, an upgraded version of "Blaster" that also sticks enemies in place for 1 RND.
Pain Suppression
While Is0bel is jacked in to the Matrix, attacks on her physical body are reduced by 3 DMG.
Execute Firewall ESP
Creates an Firewall Expert System Program.
Boost Program
Is0bel gains the Dual Routine Boost Program, which increases Persona speed while sneaking in the Matrix by 40%. Does not stack with other Boost Programs.
Gain Cyberware: JoltAlert System
If the user is brought into a stunned state, they will be jolted awake with 1 AP.
Augment Ability:
Mark Target
Integrated tactical computer marks weak points in an opponent's armor. Is0bel's mark target ability now reduces the target's armor by 1.
Stunball
Magical explosion that does -1 AP and ongoing -1 AP that lasts 2 RNDS.
Stepping into this room is like wading into the killing floor of a slaughterhouse. There isn't an inch of ground that isn't caked with spilled blood.
The stench that floods into your nostrils is as overpowering as it is vile. It is the stench of rotten beef and stale vomit, of warm blood poured into a chemical toilet and left out in the sun to cook.

The buzzing of flies in your ears helps bring you back to your senses.
Blinking against the light, you see stacks of mouldering trash piled nearly to the ceiling.

The piles of dead bodies are stacked nearly as high.
{{GM}}Focus on the bodies.{{/GM}}
I think we've found where the missing squatters went.
{{GM}}Turn to Gobbet.{{/GM}} Are you okay?
None of these people died cleanly. Not a one.

In one way or another, each carcass has been ripped apart. Some have been riddled with bullets; others have been sliced open with blades or shredded by chisel-like teeth.

The end result is always the same: another fresh corpse, its eyes frozen open in agony and surprise.
{{GM}}Gobbet's jaw drops open in horror. Her eyes move slowly from atrocity to atrocity, her cheeks draining of color.{{/GM}}

B-beatr-- and Ha-- no. Not Simon. Oh Rat, no. This...
Gobbet grasps for a way to finish her thought.

She doesn't find one.
I'm sorry, Gobbet. I know that these people were friends.
We need to find that Rat King and put an end to this.
A lot of them were. Some I didn't know.

{{GM}}Her eyes remain locked on the nearest pile of corpses.{{/GM}}

They all deserved better than this.
The Rat King is supposed to be down on this level. That means we're headed in the right direction.
I think that I can see one of the scuttling charges that we need to activate. Think you can arm it, Is0bel?
After seeing this, I don't think that this raft is worth saving.

We should go back to my original plan, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). Let's send this thing to the bottom - that's where it belongs.
You can't do that, Gobbet. We've already told Cadmus that we're going to help him. He's been getting the other mutineers ready to fight, not to evacuate.

If we sink this thing now, they might not even make it off the boat.
We'll tell them that we've changed our minds using the alarm system. They'll make it out. Trust me.
We made a promise, Gobbet. I think that we should keep it.
I'm with Gobbet. Let's send this thing to the bottom, and the Rat King with it.
All right. If that's what you want.

I just hope that you know what you're doing.
It'll be all right, Izz. I've already disabled the safeties on the charges upstairs.

All that we need to do is ready the ones down here, and we'll be set.
There's a bit more to it than that.

I've worked with bombs like this before. Disabling their mechanical safeties is just the first step.
After we've done that, I'll need to reroute power from the raft to the bombs to arm them.

I'll have to jack into whatever Matrix server they have on this thing to do that.
If you need to jack in, we'll need to head for the generator room. Everything with a heavy power draw gets routed there.

{{GM}}She points to the north.{{/GM}}

Unless more has changed than I realized, it should be up that way.
We know where we're heading, then.

{{GM}}Is0bel rubs her temples. She looks distraught.{{/GM}}

I just hope that this plan works out the way you think it will. For everyone's sake.
It'll be fine, Is0bel. Let's do it.
Not from here, no. But I can disable the safety on it.
{{GM}}She blinks.{{/GM}}

...Is there a difference?
Disabling the mechanical safeties on the bombs is just the first step. After we've done that, I'll need to reroute power from the raft to the bombs to arm them.

I'll have to jack into whatever Matrix server they have on this thing to do that.
Huh.

Guess it's a good thing that you came along after all.
{{GM}}She jerks a thumb upward, toward the ceiling.{{/GM}}

I removed the safeties on the bombs upstairs... they're all ready to be armed. I'll leave the rest to you.
We know what we've gotta do. Let's go do it.
I'm thinking we should reconsider the mutiny option. It isn't too late to help Cadmus take the ship back.
We'd have to find the shipboard alarm to let Cadmus and the others know what we're doing. Could be risky, but we could do it if you wanted to.
{{GM}}She shakes her head obstinately.{{/GM}}

We agreed on what needs to be done, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). Don't back out on me now.
We'll stick with the plan and sink the raft. The Rat King is going to the bottom of the bay, and it's taking the Shiny Object with it.
We can't displace everyone left on board. This is their home - it's only right for us to help them take it back. We're joining the mutiny.
Good.

C'mon, you two. Let's get this done.
{{GM}}She sighs.{{/GM}}

I think it's a stupid idea, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). But if you really want to do this, then I'll help you get it done.

At least this way I'll get to look the Rat King in the eye when I kill it.
Damn right. Carrément.
If we're going to do this, we need to find Malvina's old cabin. It should be west of here.
I'll have to get the Shiny Object away from the Rat King if we want to kill it.

That's probably gonna be tricky... I don't think that she'll just let me saunter up and take it.
If she did, this wouldn't be any fun.
We do tricky things every day. We can handle this, too.
You've stolen the Shiny Object twice already. Third time's the charm, right?
No. I guess that it wouldn't.

{{GM}}She rolls her shoulders. Exhales heavily.{{/GM}}

All right. Let's do this.
'Course we can.

{{GM}}She rolls her shoulders. Exhales heavily.{{/GM}}

All right. Let's do this.
Yeah, three makes a list.

{{GM}}She rolls her shoulders. Exhales heavily.{{/GM}}

All right. Let's do this.
{{GM}}She gives you a shallow nod.{{/GM}}

That thing is going to die. Malvina... the Rat King... whatever it is that did this.

It's going to die. And I'm going to kill it.
Oh, you think?
She doesn't seem to notice you. Her jaw hangs open in horror.

As her eyes move from atrocity to atrocity, her cheeks slowly drain of color.
B-beatr-- and Ha-- no. Not Simon.

{{GM}}Tears spill down her cheeks.{{/GM}}

Oh Rat, no. This...
You push your way forward, through the piles of filth and through the narrow gaps between buildings, ducking under exposed sewage pipes and battered ductwork.

Suddenly, you're through it and out the other side.
A slender woman stands a few meters in front of you. An extravagant coat hangs over her delicate frame, the hood pulled low over her face. She's facing you, but you can't make out her features.
Behind her, another woman approaches at a trot. She's wearing ballistic armor, and she has her weapon drawn.

The insignia that's been emblazoned onto her shoulderpad is familiar to you - Tsang.
Hey! You there!

{{GM}}She shouts at the hooded figure, her voice full of self-important pomp.{{/GM}}

You heard us - clear the area, and do it now! The inner blocks are *off limits* to non-Tsang personnel!
{{GM}}The hooded figure turns to face the approaching guard.{{/GM}}

My apologies. I got... a bit lost. I'm not really familiar with this area.

{{GM}}Her tone is silky-smooth and perfectly even. Almost hypnotic.{{/GM}}
It's... that's okay, bu--

{{GM}}She blinks. Shakes her head to clear it. Her jaw clenches, and you watch her eyes refocus. She shoulders her weapon.{{/GM}}

Don't you try that on me. You make *one* more sound and I'm gonna--
With a motion that's too quick to follow, the hooded figure lashes out, grabbing the Tsang guard around the waist. She bats the startled woman's weapon away with her other hand, lunges forward, and sinks her teeth into her neck.

A spray of arterial blood fills the air, and the guard's body goes limp.
The hooded figure lets the Tsang security officer's body crumple to the floor.

She sweeps back her hood and dabs at her lips with her handkerchief.
Ku Feng. Pleasure to see you again.
The pleasure is all mine. You're right on time, by the way.

{{GM}}She turns the square of embroidered fabric in her hand and continues to blot the blood off of her lips.{{/GM}}

Apologies for the mess. It's like eating soup dumplings... the liquid winds up getting everywhere, no matter careful you try to be.
Shouldn't you be lording it over the Repulse Bay?
I did not expect to hear your voice again, Queen of Repulse Bay. Not since we concluded our lessons.

What are you doing here?
Why, I'm here to help you, of course. And to bask in the misery of the Walled City.

{{GM}}She shrugs, half-smiling.{{/GM}}

It's quite intoxicating, you know. The poisonous energy of this place, and of the being at the center of it all. I'm surprised that you can't feel it yourself.
I can feel it, believe me. It's repulsive.
Good to see you as well, Ku Feng. You seem to be doing well.
I am pleased that you are thriving, even in this place of death.
In any event, let's get down to business. I have a question for you.

The thing that has arrived here... this "Yama King," to use the local parlance. What are your intentions for it?
I'm going to send it back to the hell that it crawled out of.
That depends on it. I'm willing to talk to the thing, if that's what you're asking.
What do you want me to do?
Very good. In that case, I will help you.
The energies that your Yama King secretes are quite delicious. I can only imagine they will become more so at the moment of her death.

That's how it works with blood... why would this be any different?
I'd be honored to have you fight by my side.
Actually, I think that you'd be of better use covering this area for me. I can't afford to have Tsang guards outflanking me.
Great. Sure. Why not?

Let's bring the bipedal leech on board. What's the worst that could happen?
We've already got Gaichu on the team, what's the hurt here?
I'm asking her because we need the help. It's going to get thick out there, and you know it.
Don't tell me you're considering this. We don't know her well enough to trust her, and we can't risk botching this now.

Besides, she's a vampire. A parasite. She *eats* people like us.
I am a ghoul. A despised cannibal. And yet, I have not attempted to eat anyone on this team in all of our time together.

Ku Feng will be much the same. If you cannot trust her, trust me.
I have no problem running with a vampire. Let's get this party started.
Seriously? You want me on guard duty?

I am the Vampire Queen of Repulse Bay, not hired security. Let me fight with you, and I promise that you won't be disappointed.
Oh, all right. Welcome aboard.
Look, I don't need your help. We've got this handled. Now please, cover our exit.
{{GM}}She claps her hands together, smiling.{{/GM}}

Very good. This is going to be fun.
{{GM}}She scowls at you, but nods her head yes.{{/GM}}

Very well. I will cover this area - for now. But I can't promise that I'll remain here long.
It wasn't. I was wondering whether you planned to kill the thing.
If it's possible to kill Qian Ya, I'm going to do it.
Only if it makes me.
{{GM}}She sighs.{{/GM}}

I suppose that will have to do. I will help you.
The energies that your Yama King secretes are quite delicious. I can only imagine they will become more so at the moment of her death.

I'm betting that you will - or that you'll try to, at least. We shall see.
{{GM}}She smiles sweetly.{{/GM}}

What I want is an honest answer.

If I wanted to hear my own thoughts fed back to me, I'd ask one of my thralls. Goodness knows I have enough of them back at the Repulse Bay.
So. Let's try this again.

What do you intend to do with the Yama King... or Queen, I suppose... and the machine that brought her here?
{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

Personally, I love it... the slow churn of toxic qi, the aura of doom and despair that clogs the arteries of the Walled City.

Maybe it's a vampire thing. Yet another advantage of being undead.
{{CC}}Biotech: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Medium){{/CC}} You're as alive as I am, Ku Feng. Vampires aren't really undead, they're just people with a disease.
I say that I'm a creature of the night. You say that I'm a leper.

I like my version better.
{{GM}}She glances down at the body. Gives it a nudge with the toe of her boot.{{/GM}}

I get by.
Um. Shouldn't you be lording it over the Repulse Bay? That was what $(l.name) helped you out for.

I mean, I don't want to be rude, but why are you here...?
What brings you to the Walled City? You should be at the Repulse Bay, ruling over your kingdom.
Shouldn't you be lording it over the Repulse Bay? What are you doing here, bloodsucker?
You again. The shadowrunners from the Repulse Bay.

{{GM}}Her expression is ice-cold. She turns the square of embroidered fabric in her hand and continues to blot the blood off of her lips.{{/GM}}

We really must stop running into one another.
Ku Feng. It's a pleasure to see you again.
What the hell are you doing here?
This doesn't have to turn into a fight, Ku Feng.
{{GM}}She rubs her eyes.{{/GM}}

Let's dispense with the pleasantries, shall we? We're both well aware that we don't like one another, so why waste time pretending?
Eating. Being enigmatic. Enjoying the ambiance.

I'm a vampire, remember? I'm *supposed* to be attracted to negative energy and human misery.
{{GM}}She rubs her eyes.{{/GM}}

Perhaps it does. Perhaps it doesn't. It's still too early to say.
Tell me what you've seen here, Ku Feng. It's important.
Why you kill that guard? She didn't pose a threat to you.
We're here to stop the machine that's causing all of this. Will you help us?
Let us pass, and we'll be on our way.
Madness. Random violence. People driven to commit terrible acts by alien energies that invade their minds.

It has all been quite educational.
{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

A girl's gotta eat.
...No.

{{GM}}Her voice is frosty.{{/GM}}

No, I don't think that I will.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Medium){{/CC}} Please, Ku Feng. I'm going up against a Yama King... I need all the help I can get.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Gang{{/CC}} Between the Tsangs and the triads, there's enough firepower in here to bring a vampire down. Group up with us and we can keep each other safe.
{{CC}}¥1,000{{/CC}} {{GM}}Bribe her.{{/GM}} Uh, maybe if I sweetened the deal...?
You're going to miss out on a hell of a fight.
{{GM}}She pauses, considering.{{/GM}}

I like that you're showing me courtesy. That's good - it shows a level of humility that I hadn't thought possible from you.

And I *would* like to see the being at the heart of this city destroyed. To drink the ichor of such a being... the thought sends shivers down my spine.
After we take her down, you've got first dibs.
{{GM}}She sighs theatrically.{{/GM}}

I don't need your help to stay alive. I've learned a lot since our meeting at the Repulse Bay.

...But, maybe you do need mine. And I must admit, I find the reversal of fortunes here delightful.
{{GM}}She claps her hands together, smiling.{{/GM}}

All right, shadowrunner. I will help you... for a time.

Lead the way.
Won't that be tragic?

{{GM}}She steps aside to let you pass.{{/GM}}

Don't let me keep you. Have fun.
Go ahead.

{{GM}}She steps aside, practically gliding across the floor.{{/GM}}

If you want to descend further into hell, I won't stand in your way.
You catch a flash of movement up ahead. A woman dressed in a security uniform.

The insignia emblazoned onto her shoulder is a familiar one. Tsang.
FREEZE! Stay where you are, and DON'T MOVE! I've got backup on the way!
In the distance, you can hear the sound of approaching footsteps. People in armor, moving at a decent clip.
That was a big mistake.
Ghoul
Gain Ability: Rip
Gaichu gains a claw ability, Rip. Does an additional 2 DMG and 2 bleeding DMG for 2 RNDs. Cost: 1 AP. Cooldown: 2.
More Tsang security up ahead, but these ones are different. They're outfitted in heavier armor, carrying heavier artillery.

They look just as addled as everyone else you've seen this deep in the slum, though. They hold their weapons leveled at a doorway leading to the inner Walled City.
{{GM}}Gobbet whispers to you.{{/GM}}

Great. More heavily-armed nutjobs. What are they--
You hear a deafening crash from the direction of the Walled City. The noise is followed by an alien piping sound unlike anything you've ever heard.

At the sound of it, the Tsang troops start screaming. Their faces have gone as gray as ash.
You catch a glimpse of something moving toward you - something fast that seems to defy gravity as it runs.

You have a split-second to process this new information before the gunfire starts.
{{GM}}Is0bel's voice comes out in a harsh whisper.{{/GM}}

More Tsang troops. What are they--
{{GM}}Duncan's voice comes out in a harsh whisper.{{/GM}}

Great. More of these assholes. What are they--
{{GM}}Gaichu's voice comes out in a soft whisper.{{/GM}}

More enemies to test our steel against. But I wonder what they--
{{GM}}Racter's voice is soft.{{/GM}}

More security personnel. Mrs. Tsang must be quite serious about covering up her mistake.

But what are they--
Gain Ability: Regenerate
Gaichu gains an ability which lets him regenerate 6 HP per RND for 3 RNDs. AP Cost: 1. Cooldown: 2.
Gain Ability: Disease
Gaichu exudes a cloud of diseased spores, damaging nearby enemies. Base DMG: 16, with an ongoing 3 HP and 1 AP DMG for 3 RNDs. AP Cost: 1 Cooldown: 5.
Gain Ability: Bite
Force 5 Fire Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 5 Fire Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Gain Ability: Spit.
Gaichu gains a ranged ability, spitting infected saliva into the target's face. Ignores all armor. DMG: 8, with an additional 4 DMG for 2 rounds. Max range: 10. Cooldown: 2.
Semopal vz/88V
Rifle: A basic Czech-made assault rifle known for being cheap, reliable, and ubiquitous.
Paydata: Shipping Manifest
Catalogs the coming and going of rare artifacts to be displayed in the museum. Could be worth some nuyen to the right buyer.
Colt Manhunter
Pistol: A heavy pistol created to perform under the most extreme situations.
Adds Armor
Force 6 Fire Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 6 Fire Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Leopard Totem
The power of the Leopard grants a personal passive benefit of +1 Movement and +1 Armor to the Shaman.
Fichetti Security 500 (Smartlink)
A cheap, common pistol. Mass-produced to keep the cost low, this model includes a Smartlink, which reduces range penalties.
Force 3 Fire Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 3 Fire Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
This scuttling charge is old - very old. The case is cracked and leaking, and you can see exposed wires underneath.

A large red toggle switch serves as a safety. It is currently set to "ARMED."
{{GM}}Disable the safety.{{/GM}}
You flip the switch. It snaps into the "DISARMED" position with an audible thunk.
{{GM}}Gobbet's brow furrows.{{/GM}}

Umm, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)... what are you doing?
Disabling the safety on this scuttling charge.
Flipping a toggle switch. What does it look like I'm doing?
But... I thought we were going to aid in the mutiny?

Are we going back to my old plan and sinking the raft? Is that what's happening now?
Yeah, that's what's happening. New plan - we're sinking the raft.
No, I still want to help Cadmus. I just think that we should disable the safeties on the bombs, too, just in case.
Really? That's what you want to do?

{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

...Okay, if that's what you want... I mean, it was my original idea, so we can go back to it.
How often do you change your mind...?

All right. If we're gonna do this, we need to have to let Cadmus and his people know about it. They're expecting to mutiny, not abandon ship.

If we don't give them a head's up, they're headed on a one-way trip to the bottom on Hung Hom Bay.
Got it. Let's get those charges disarmed.
Let's keep moving.
I'm fine with disabling the safeties as a contingency plan... there's no point in doing it if we aren't going to sink the raft, but there's no harm in keeping our options open either.

The engine room is our point of no return, though. Once we head in there and I start diverting power to the bombs, all bets are off. Odds are good that we'll have a fight on our hands.
If we do change plans and decide to sink the raft, we'd better let Cad and his people know about it. They're expecting to mutiny, not abandon ship.

If we don't give them a head's up, they're headed on a one-way trip to the bottom on Hung Hom Bay.
Force 4 Fire Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 4 Fire Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Dispel Magic
Dispels any target's ongoing magical effect.
This placeholder for a conversation that happens if the player tries to get into the House of Sparrows post docks and has yet to go to the safeboat.
This placeholder for a conversation that happens if the player tries again to get into the House of Sparrows post docks and has yet to go to the safeboat. This will keep firing as long the player keeps hitting the interact. So maybe a "You hear only the gentle lapping of the waves." or some such would work well.
A powerful bite attack.
Cavalier Deputy (Smartlink)
Pistol: An old-school revolver. Powerful, but cannot use the Chain Shot or Double Tap abilities. Includes a Smartlink, which reduces range penalties.
The streets of Whampoa Garden are slick with rain, glittering under the neon glow of myriad signs and holographic displays. The sky reflects the same glow, painting the white apartment blocks the sickly orange of sodium streetlights. The smell of grilling meat mingles with other, rarer scents: ozone, engine oil, and high tech fabrication facilities.

Despite the hour, there are plenty of people out and about. You can hear the calls of street vendors and touts, urging people into their stores.
{{GM}}Is0bel wrinkles her nose, scowling darkly. She wraps her arms tightly around her chest, staring off into the distance.{{/GM}}

Is there a word for feeling nostalgic for a place you can't wait to leave again? I don't miss this place... But I miss the feelings I had when I lived here.
Not that I know of.
Saudade, maybe?
{{GM}}Is0bel sighs heavily.{{/GM}}

This place seemed like heaven, after the Walled City. Like the whole world had unfurled in front of me, and anywhere I turned there was the promise of a good life.

Turned out this place was just as crappy as everywhere else. Everyone was still in it for themselves.
{{GM}}Gobbet claps a hand on Is0bel's shoulder, who flinches and pulls away.{{/GM}}

That's a great life lesson, Izz. I'm serious!

At the end of the day, life's a raw deal. You've got yourself, and a handful of friends, and that's it. Nothing else.
{{GM}}Duncan casts a sidelong glance at Is0bel and Gobbet, shaking his head.{{/GM}}

You got some strange ideas about life. Sure, life's a meat grinder. But come on, there's gotta be more to life than just surviving.
Does there? What makes you the authority on that?

{{GM}}Is0bel waves a dismissive hand.{{/GM}}

I'm done talking about this. Anyway...
{{GM}}Is0bel turns toward you and points down the street to your left.{{/GM}}

We're looking for the Whampoan Elders. They're gonna be in the Whampoa itself. That's the big ship down the street.
I've seen pictures. It looks like a yacht.
That's the mall shaped like a boat, right?
{{GM}}Is0bel nods, lips pursed.{{/GM}}

That's the one. Kinda hard to miss, and it's been a fixture since late last century.

These days, it's just a squat. Shops are family affairs, not corporate ones.
Is there anything I should know about the Whampoans?
They're all tech-heads, tinkerers, and self-taught scientists. Despite the fact that there's no formal education system, everyone here is pretty smart. They apprentice kids to skilled workers so they can learn a trade.
Elder Gao taught me decking, and I left after she got brain-fried trying to crack a Mitsuhama network. Elder Ip taught me to shoot. He should still be here.

Come on, let's go see what they have to say for themselves.
{{GM}}Is0bel nods, lips pursed.{{/GM}}

That's the one. Somebody thought it would be clever to make a uniquely-shaped mall.
A curious philosophy, Gobbet. Certainly no objective meaning can be applied to the human experience, but the sum total of culture and progress since the time of homo erectus has shown that humans are capable of self-organizing into beneficial--
Bo-riiiing!

{{GM}}Gobbet makes a show of yawning very loudly toward Racter.{{/GM}}
If my own life in the Barrens taught me anything, it's that if you can find people worth sticking with, they'll save your life. You live for each other, watch each other's backs.

{{GM}}Duncan shrugs.{{/GM}}

That's about as deep as it gets for me.
Perhaps, then, that is enough. If it works for you, good.
Such is the way of most of life. It's up to you to find meaning beyond survival.

{{GM}}Racter glances down the street in the direction Is0bel is staring.{{/GM}}

If their ways didn't strike a chord for you, so be it. Make your own way.
{{GM}}Is0bel shakes her head.{{/GM}}

No, that's not it. It's close, but...

{{GM}}She lets the sentence trail off into nothingness, clamping her mouth shut for a moment.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Gobbet stretches her arms out, turning in a circle.{{/GM}}

Welcome to the Wonderful World of Whampoa! Seriously, that's what they call the boat. Mall. Whatever.
Why the hell did somebody build a mall shaped like a boat?
Well, that's a hell of a unique gimmick.
At a guess, it's because it's memorable. What other reason could there be?
When the economy tanked after the Crash of '29, the techno-fetishist tribes started squatting in it.

They've been here ever since.
No use standing around here in the rain, then.

Come on, let's go see what the Elders have to say.
I'd rather not stand around in the rain if we have a destination.

Let's go see what the Elders have to tell us.
From what I recall, we'll be dealing with Elder Ng. The crazy old bird thinks machines talk to her.

C'mon, let's go see what she has to say.
Say what you will about it, it least you'll never forget it. That's gotta count for something, right?
{{GM}}Racter studies his bracer, scrolling rapidly through page after page of information. When he looks up, he gestures to the left.{{/GM}}

Apparently the Whampoan Elders are usually found inside the Whampoa itself. It's a former shopping mall shaped like a boat.
That's a strange choice of a shape.
Why'd they do that?
I suspect the architect wanted to make a memorable building. Whatever else may be true, they succeeded.

{{GM}}Racter shrugs, chuckling to himself.{{/GM}}
According to what I've been able to dig up, the techno-fetishist tribe of the same name took over after the Crash of '29. The mall went bankrupt, and they started squatting and never left.

If we're to speak to the Elders, we should start there.
{{GM}}Surveying the streets, Duncan's shock at the scene is readily apparent{{/GM}}

Damn... I expected this place to be a total dump. This just looks like anywhere else in Kowloon.
Why did you expect that?
You know anything about the residents?
The Whampoans are squatters - they moved into the mall after the Crash of '29. I'm used to the squatters in the Barrens.

I guess after 25 years, they've had a chance to really make the place a real home.
The Whampoan Elders should be in the mall itself. We can't miss it - it's shaped like a giant boat.

I guess the original developer wanted a visual gimmick for it, or something.
Based on your mission briefing, the Whampoan Elders should be inside the mall called the Whampoa itself. It should be to your left, and is shaped like a giant boat.
A diminutive female ork regards you with a sharp, challenging look. The fierceness of her expression contrasts starkly with her sweet, rounded face and neat bob.

She flexes her cyberfists.
{{GM}}She fires off a rapid-fire reproach in a thick Filipino accent.{{/GM}}

Why are you staring like that? Didn't anybody teach you manners?

{{GM}}She plants her fists on her leather-clad hips and juts her chin out at you.{{/GM}}
Sorry!
Relax, I didn't mean to stare.
Back down, lady. You don't know who you're talking to.
{{GM}}She blinks, and her jaw unclenches.{{/GM}}

It's all right. I can tell you're a newcomer. I just feel a little protective of my part of town.
{{GM}}The ork looks you up and down. Finally, with a gruff nod, she introduces herself.{{/GM}}

I'm Rosario Ignacio... or, to the members of my community, Cherry Pink. I specialize in transport missions and nanny services, and I occasionally shadowrun for walking-around money.

I can also fry up a mean batch of lumpia, but you can't have any unless I like you.
"Cherry Pink" seems like an odd choice for a street name.
You said that you make great lumpia. What is that, exactly?
You said that you're a nanny?
How did you go from babysitting to running the shadows?
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}} I should go.
{{GM}}She glowers at you.{{/GM}}

It's a bona fide Filipino nickname.

Unless you want a mouth full of fist, you'll show it respect.
Filipino spring rolls. Crispy and delicious and full of pork... or whatever pork-flavored substitute is on sale.

It's important to be frugal.
I want some lumpia.
Ugh, I'll pass. Fried things give me heartburn.
It has suddenly become very important to me that you like me.
Everyone wants lumpia.

{{GM}}She puts her hands on her hips.{{/GM}}

Not everyone deserves it.
{{GM}}Her nose wrinkles, and she crosses herself.{{/GM}}

Then you are cursed.
{{GM}}A corner of her mouth twitches upward. She gives you a sidelong glance.{{/GM}}

Then you must earn it. Everybody wants to be my friend because everybody wants lumpia. Only a handful deserve it.
{{GM}}She nods enthusiastically.{{/GM}}

Look around you - see these shadowrunners and dealers of contraband and Johnsons? There's a fair number who have kids, though they wouldn't shout it from the rooftops.

It's usually too dangerous to keep family close. That's where I come in.
Shadownannies are a great idea! No more bringing my baby into combat situations!
How much business did you pull in?
Interesting business model. Do you have much competition?
{{GM}}The ork raises her chin proudly.{{/GM}}

I've shuttled kids in and out of war zones. I've gone into hiding with little ones for months on end while their parents had to lie low. I've taught children good manners, hygiene, and the proper use of firearms for over twenty years.
Wait, you teach kids to use weapons?
You were in a survival situation, and you were worried about hygeine?
Hey, that's fascinating. But I've got things to do, so...
I show 'em how to use weapons *safely.*

{{GM}}She jabs a finger at you for emphasis.{{/GM}}

What's dangerous is not explaining their world to them - the shadows, that is. These kids have to grow up fast. Weapons training is appropriate when you're living *in a smugglers' den.*
Makes perfect sense to me.
I disagree with your nannying philosophy.
I'm not big on the whole "kids" thing. Mind if we talk about something else?
I'm really glad that *someone* finally gets it. The gut reaction for most people is to deny the danger. The rest seem to think that children are too immature to step up to the challenge.

Me, I trust my kids. I don't underestimate them, and they never let me down.
{{GM}}The ork crosses her arms tightly across her chest.{{/GM}}

My charges always survive. End of story.
I guess that's what really counts.
{{GM}}Her features soften. The corners of her mouth twitch downward.{{/GM}}

It's not a perfect world. But I do my best.
{{GM}}She looks at you with pity.{{/GM}}

You never had a good nanny. I can see it in your eyes.

...I can smell it, too.
There must be something wrong with your nose. I smell as fresh as a pine forest.
You don't smell like a rose garden, either, lady.
There's nothing wrong with my eyes.
{{GM}}She smirks.{{/GM}}

I *usually* nanny children, but you're a prime candidate for some remedial lessons in cleanliness. No offense.
Do the lessons come with lumpia? Sign me up!
Look, could we talk about something other than my personal celanliness?
{{GM}}She huffs.{{/GM}}

If you like.
You lack a sense of humor.

{{GM}}The ork shakes her head and mutters something about shadowrunners nowadays.{{/GM}}

Run along, now. I have no time to talk to humorless people.
{{GM}}She juts her jaw out again.{{/GM}}

Go. Be on your way.
{{GM}}The ork raises her chin proudly.{{/GM}}

Plenty. People will never stop having kids. The more dangerous the world gets, the more my services are necessary.

I've taught children good manners, hygiene, and the proper use of firearms for over twenty years.
I wish that there were more. If more people did the things that I do, fewer kids would suffer.

{{GM}}The ork raises her chin proudly.{{/GM}}

I've taught children good manners, hygiene, and the proper use of firearms for over twenty years.
{{GM}}Her cheeks flush.{{/GM}}

Well, I used to take care of the children of a Wuxing bigwig, up in the Peak. Turned out she was siphoning corporate funds to support both a gambling addiction and an extravagant lifestyle.
She got sloppy, and I stumbled across some pretty damning documents as I was tidying the house. I couldn't unsee them, much as I wished it, and I started to fear for my life. She was growing desperate, erratic.

So I ran.
What's happened in the Philippines that you can't go back?
You didn't run too far. Why not leave Hong Kong?
How'd you get your cyberware?
The Japanese Imperial State happened. Supposedly, they've been in charge there for decades.

I was just a little girl when they sent their Imperial Marines in. They destroyed my old neighborhood. I don't remember the events, but I still dream of fire to this day.
How'd you get out?
*Supposedly* in charge, you say?
Half my family fled to the mountains.

The other half left the country and eventually scattered all over the globe. I didn't grow up close to anyone but my parents, who are now gone.
What's the political situation like?
Any chance of contacting the family members who stayed in the Philippines?
The Japanese have run up against resistance from a group that came to be known as the Huk. Nationalists. Neo-anarchists. But the resistance ultimately gets its backing from a dragon, Masaru.

While the struggle continues, the country can't heal.
Could you smuggle yourself in and find your remaining family?
Wouldn't it be better to join the Huk and free your country?
Good talk. I've gotta run.
No, I couldn't just waltz in and start looking. Besides, my relatives could be barricaded in caves avoiding JIS forces, for all I know.
Hate to say it, but I don't think they stand a chance against the JIS.
Sounds like you're not even trying to look for your relatives.
I don't *know* the Philippines. I barely remember it.

It's always been a poor country. After decades of struggle, is it really a better option than Heoi?
Well, Heoi isn't so bad. At least the people are interesting.
Sounds like you've given up on the Philippines.
{{GM}}The ork bites her lip.{{/GM}}

The country's caught up in a struggle between the Japanese and Huk resistance - nationalists and neo-anarchists backed by the dragon Masaru.

I couldn't just waltz in and look for family. Besides, they could be barricaded in caves avoiding JIS forces, for all I know.
You seem pretty resigned about the fate of your homeland.
{{GM}}Cherry Pink's nostrils flare, and she furrows her brow.{{/GM}}

Well, no relatives have come looking for me, either. Besides, I've built my own family here in Hong Kong.
Well, it's not so bad here. At least the people are interesting.
And what about the family you worked for before you had to flee? Do you miss your old life?
The Japanese ran up against resistance from forces that came to be known as the Huk. Nationalists. Neo-anarchists. But the resistance ultimately gets its backing from a dragon, Masaru.

While the struggle continues, the country can't heal.
Never, ever cut deal with a dragon.
Don't you want to join the Huk and free your country?
{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

Well, I haven't, personally. I just want to be *home* somewhere.
Too bad about the Philippines.
{{GM}}The ork smiles.{{/GM}}

I agree. Perhaps you may deserve lumpia after all. No promises, though.
{{GM}}She snorts and lifts her chin high.{{/GM}}

Filipinos are a resilient people. I think the Huk will triumph eventually. And if *I've* got a Filipino community around me, I'm good.

Thanks for talking about it, anyway. Not many people care enough to bother.
{{GM}}She waves you off.{{/GM}}

Go, then. Be well.
I couldn't go back to Manila because of those JIS scumbags. But there's always been a large community of Filipinos in the shadows.

I sought them out.
There's always been a large community of Filipinos in the shadows. I reached out, and they all pitched in to set me up as a shadowrunner.

Now, whenever I land a good gig, I give most of my earnings away. Giving back to the community.
I don't get why you give away your hard-earned money. Surely your debt's paid.
Do you ever have regrets about leaving your old life behind?
It's not like paying a debt. Yes, there's always someone asking for a handout - yet, one day it might be *me* in need again.

Who knows when my luck will turn. But I know my community will have my back.
I could sure use a handout.
Mind if I ask you something else?
Don't work that way, chump.
Can I at least score some fried lumpia?
Never hurts to ask.
{{GM}}She shakes her head and mutters something about shadowrunners nowadays.{{/GM}}

I just want to make friendly conversation, and people only ever want lumpia. It's shameful.

No, you cannot have lumpia. You may only desire it from afar.
{{GM}}She huffs at you.{{/GM}}

You never know. It might.
Very well, go on.
{{GM}}She looks away suddenly, her eyes moistening.{{/GM}}

I'm not sentimental about my old post, if that's what you mean.
{{GM}}The ork takes a big breath and continues.{{/GM}}

But on Sundays, my only day off, I used to go and sit with the other nannies and housekeepers. We'd bring pieces of cardboard so we could sit on the ground in the shade under bridges.

We'd gossip. Eat lumpia and rice cake. Nothing special.
But I don't belong to that world anymore. I couldn't risk word getting back to my old employer.

I miss my old friends, though.
If you like.
{{GM}}She nods at you.{{/GM}}

Be on your way, then.
{{GM}}She gives you an unwavering sidelong gaze.{{/GM}}

You're a stranger on my turf. I expect people to be civil to one another.
No offense intended. If you insist, sure, I apologize.
This isn't your turf, it's a public area. And besides, these streets belong to my boss - Kindly Cheng.
{{GM}}The ork's eyes narrow.{{/GM}}

You're not too good at making friends or fitting in to new surroundings, are you?
Didn't come here to make friends. I'm just passing through.
I think we got off on the wrong foot here...
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}} I've got better things to do with my time.
Yes I do. A mouthy stranger.

{{GM}}She crosses her arms, widens her stance, and glares.{{/GM}}

This is my neighborhood. I've got the right to check out any newcomers.
I'm not here to cause trouble with chromed-up locals. I just wanted to be friendly.
For someone so concerned with manners, you're awfully rude.
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}} Check this out - I'm leaving. Bye.
{{GM}}The ork purses her lips.{{/GM}}

I guess I came on a little strong. Sorry. There are so many new faces around that I get defensive.
No biggie. The name's $(s.name). You?
Defensive is right. And you're not even from Hong Kong, judging by your accent.
{{GM}}The ork raises her eyebrows at you and snorts.{{/GM}}

I've been here a lot longer than you. Anyway, if you haven't noticed, this is a city of immigrants. Hong Kong belongs to us as much as to anyone else. It's my home.
So you've adopted this place. I get it. What is it that you do, anyway?
Yeah, yeah. Well, I'm just passing through on business.
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}} I'll leave you to it, then. I've got things to do.
{{GM}}The chromed-up ork juts out her jaw.{{/GM}}

Back again, eh? Will you be polite this time, I wonder? Or do you want another taste of my scorn?
Look, I'm just curious. I haven't seen you around before, so I wanted to see what your deal was.
Seriously - what's wrong with you? I'm not a stranger, I *live* here.
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}} You're crazy, lady. I'm out of here.
What my "deal" is. That's what you want to know.

{{GM}}She rests her massive hands on her hips.{{/GM}}

All right. I can tell you're a newcomer. I didn't mean to be standoffish before, I just feel a little protective of my part of town.
Well... you're a stranger to me.

{{GM}}She rests her massive hands on her hips.{{/GM}}

All right. I can tell you're a newcomer. I didn't mean to be standoffish before, I just feel a little protective of my part of town.
Yeah, that's right. Keep walking.
It's so hot out... so humid!

{{GM}}She fans herself with a cybernetic hand.{{/GM}}

If you're back to talk, go on and talk. I'm listening.
Force 1 Fire Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 1 Fire Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Flak Turret
This turret has a chance to hit adjacent targets at ranges of 6 or greater.
Eos's Armor
Eos's armored jumpsuit.
Gobbet comes up short. She gestures down at a pile of filthy rags on the ground: a man's shirt, encrusted with dried blood and grime.
Hey, hold up.

This cloth has a lot of negative energy coming off of it. I think that there's a spirit bound to it.
I feel it, too. What do you think it is?
Interesting. What can you tell me about this spirit?
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}} We'll come back to it later.
Well, it's a ghost... either that, or a Spirit of Man that *thinks* it's a ghost. It's hard to be sure.

{{GM}}She stares at the cloth, frowning.{{/GM}}

Whatever it is, it's upset. I can feel its anger and sorrow from here. But that's all I can get from it while it's hiding like this.
I could coax it out of the cloth and talk with it if you want. Maybe it'll lead to something.

{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

Or it could attack us and rip out our souls. There's no way to tell without trying.
{{CC}}Spirit Summoning: 2{{/CC}} {{GM}}Bring the spirit forth.{{/GM}} I'm up for a spirit chat.
Go ahead and do it, Gobbet. I want to hear what this spirit has to say.
{{GM}}As the energies bound into the cloth begin to swirl, Gobbet cocks her head appreciatively.{{/GM}}

Not bad, $(l.lastname). I like your style.
Sure thing.

{{GM}}Her eyes go beady, and her nose crinkles.{{/GM}}

Just let me try to establish a connection...
A pile of filthy rags lies heaped on the ground: a man's shirt, encrusted with dried blood and grime.

A swelling sensation behind your eyes tells you that something is bound to the cloth - a spirit of some kind. You could use your abilities to beckon it out of the rags if you wanted to.
{{CC}}Spirit Summoning: 2{{/CC}} {{GM}}Bring the spirit forth.{{/GM}}
The console's display blossoms to life at your approach.
>>TSANG MECHANICAL SERVICES
>>SPECIAL PROJECTS DIVISION
>>CONTROL_HUB

>>1.//README/GENERAL_PRACTICES
>>2.//OPEN_HOST_ENGRAM_STREAM
>>3.//LOG_OFF
{{GM}}Open the Readme/General_Practices file.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Open the Host_Engram_Stream file.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Leave the control hub alone.{{/GM}}
Scanning the files, you find a list of procedures that governs the safe removal of subjects from the machine.

According to the file, all four memory engrams need to be locked into the control hub in chronological order. Then, and only then, can a subject be ejected without suffering permanent neurological damage.
>>HOST_MEMORY_ENGRAM_ARRAY
Select Engram for Slot #1
Select Engram for Slot #2
Select Engram for Slot #3
Select Engram for Slot #4
{{GM}}Reintegrate Host{{/GM}}
>>SLOT_1::ACTIVE
{{GM}}Lock Engram: Raymond as a young executive.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Lock Engram: Memory Engram: Raymond as a young boy.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Lock Engram: Raymond as an old man.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Lock Engram: Raymond as a middle-aged man.{{/GM}}
>>SLOT_1::LOCKED
>>SLOT_2::ACTIVE
>>SLOT_2::LOCKED
>>SLOT_3::ACTIVE
>>SLOT_3::LOCKED
>>SLOT_4::ACTIVE
>>SLOT_4::LOCKED
>>CHECKING_ENGRAMS
...
>>ENGRAM_INTEGRATION::FAILED!
...
>>HOST_REINTEGRATION_PROCESS::FAILED!
>>CHECKING_ENGRAMS
...
>>ENGRAM_INTEGRATION::SUCCESS!
...
...
>>HOST_REINTEGRATION_PROCESS::INITIATED
Force 2 Fire Elemental Fetish
Summons a Force 2 Fire Elemental. The fetish is consumed when used.
Electro Current
A blast of lightning that also does ongoing -10 HP. Lasts 2 RNDS.
Lightning: HP -10 per RND
The spirit's very nature will cause the target to drop their weapon.
The walls are covered in splattered and smeared blood, most of which has hardened into a crusty, congealed paste.

Thick tracks of it run laterally. It looks like the blood has been deliberately smeared.
Hey, $(l.name)? I don't know a whole lot about science or all that, but I know what blood looks like when it hits a wall. This isn't natural.

Somebody deliberately smeared blood all over these walls. See how it looks like it's got paint trails? That's because somebody used Tong's parts like a brush.
So they painted his walls with blood? Why?
Do I look like a psychologist to you? Maybe 'cuz they're a freak. Maybe they're one of those sick serial killers that sees their murders as art? I got no clue.

All I know is what normal blood looks like on a wall, and this ain't it.
Some people have a bad grasp of art.

I knew this guy in Kwan Tung who used to make music out of stray radio static and panicbutton calls. Called it "Crisiswave." It was awful.
Hey, you think that's strange, you oughta see the kinda sims that are coming out of Kolkata these days... They took that Poly-POV tech and then collapsed all the carrier signals into one POV. You're like four people at once.

And the underground gigs do blank jobs. You know, where they kill one of the POVs. Sick stuff.
You might be on to something there, Duncan. But if this is art or a ritual, it's awfully amateur. Most serial killers escalate both the complexity and violence of their attacks over time.

This is sufficiently violent for an advanced offender, but has none of the complexity of action.
These blood patterns aren't natural, $(l.name). The smearing here wasn't done by Tong. There's too much blood.

The killer must have spread the blood across the walls deliberately.
Why the hell would they do that?
Perhaps they're like many serial killers: they see their actions as a ritual or as a work of art, and the victim's body was the medium in which they were working.

Or, maybe, they're just crazy.
Man, I've seen a lot of crazy people in my life. But I've never seen anybody crazy enough to think they were going to make a Mona Lisa out of somebody's teeth and guts.

Thank the heavens for that, too.
Frankly, who cares?

If they're this crazy, we'll be doing the Whampoans a favor by putting them down.
Whoa, check that out. It's like a paint-by-numbers game, except using ugly wallpaper and a dead guy's guts.

They sure didn't teach me that kind in kindergarten!
You went to kindergarten?
Well... No. But I've seen a lot of trid shows! It's all sitting around fingerpainting, cutting up paper into stars, and learning how to code your first program, right?

And it's always taught by somebody in a stuffed animal suit.
{{GM}}Is0bel rolls her eyes.{{/GM}}

Gobbet... Just... Stop talking, please.
That's pretty goddamn disgusting. They must have used Tong's body to spread the blood all over the walls and ceiling.

Like some psychopath's version of fingerpainting.
The smeared tracks are definitely not natural. Whoever did this must have painted the blood across the walls using Tong's entrails and severed limbs.
The smeared blood on the wall remains congealed and disgusting. The plasma has begun to separate out into a thin yellow film at the edges of the splatters.
Twist the razor for more internal damage. -2 DMG, +5 stacking bleed DMG. Strips 2 Armor from target.
The ork behind the counter looks up from his sales sheets.

He wearily recites what sounds like a rehearsed welcome.
Welcome to Mr. Lin's Big Time Data Shack. Special show prices for this event only.

{{GM}}He waves a hand over the booth.{{/GM}}

Feel free to browse.
{{GM}}Look through his inventory.{{/GM}} Sure.
{{GM}}Leave.{{/GM}} No thanks, man. I'm good.
You're back.

{{GM}}He gestures at the booth in front of him.{{/GM}}

Wanna flip through the catalog, or rummage through the bins?
UCAS milspec that's customized for the shadows.
>>>WELCOME TO THE REPULSE BAY CENTRAL DATA HUB.
>>>>>PLEASE STATE QUERY.
{{GM}}Search for information on Neville Ma.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Search other records.{{/GM}}
>>>MA, NEVILLE.
>>>>>RESIDENT, PENTHOUSE APARTMENT #2.

>>>EXPAND QUERY?
{{GM}}Apartment door code.{{/GM}}
>>>APARTMENT DOOR CODE: 1635
SELECT SUBJECT
{{GM}}Events.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Planned hotel expansion.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Maintenance logs.{{/GM}}
>>>ONE EVENT FOUND. YELLOW SPRINGS FILMS PRIVATE PARTY, MEZZANINE LEVEL. FRONT DESK INDICATES SIX UNCLAIMED INVITATIONS.

>>>>>DOWNLOAD INVITATION Y/N?
{{GM}}Download the invitation.{{/GM}}
>>>INVITATION DOWNLOADED.
>>>ACCESSING EXPANSION PLANS.

{{GM}}You download a series of files detailing expansion plans to the hotel's ground floor. These might be valuable to local construction firms.{{/GM}}
>>>ACCESSING MAINTENANCE LOGS.

{{GM}}Reams of data flood the screen. Everything's organized by way of reference numbers - it's an incredibly obtuse and confusing system.

Without knowing what number to search for, there's little of value to see here.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Enter the reference number for Ma's security door.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}You enter the number that was stenciled on the door. The system chugs for a moment, then the screen fills with data.{{/GM}}

>>>SECURITY DOOR INSTALLATION: MA, NEVILLE.

>>>>>KEYS ISSUED: 3 OF 3. 1. MA, NEVILLE. 2. WONG, PENELOPE. 3. KANG, VICTOR. ALL KEYS CLAIMED.
Just off the docks, you spot a sea-worn man with a smile that's almost too wide for his head. His teeth shine white against the thick, black bush of his beard.

His clothes are a myriad of colors, patterns, and fabrics - a smattering of cultures draped across his body. If there's anything he's clearly advertising, it's the extent of his travels.
You see something you like?

{{GM}}His voice is coarse, like steel wool on your eardrums.{{/GM}}

Come and get it, because now's your last chance! Everything is on sale - won't find prices like these anywhere else, my friend.
You from around here?
These goods of yours look like they've changed hands a few times. You selling stolen merchandise?
No, not I. Not here. Plan's to leave these waters soon as I wrangle up enough supplies to do so.

{{GM}}He leans toward you, voice lower, breath surprisingly free of alcohol.{{/GM}}

There are things happening here... locals call 'em dreams. I call 'em *evil.* And I don't want no more of that.
What did you dream about?
They're just dreams. Nothing to worry about.
What do you think they mean?
Does it matter? All I remember clearly is how I felt during and after - drained, as if these "dreams" leeched away some of my good years. No, no. No more of that.

If you know what's good for you, you'll leave too.
You really think they're that bad?
You're just scared.
I'm not in a position to leave.
No doubt about it. They're evil, all right. And things like that will only get worse.

And, even if they don't, you'll *never* forget them. The feelings, the thoughts... They set into your mind like a stain.
You're damn right I am! And I'm not afraid to say it. No, a man's ego is nothing in the shadow of these... "dreams"... They're right unnatural.
{{GM}}His over-large smile turns into a deep frown.{{/GM}}

That's a right shame, my friend. I suggest you try and find yourself a way out.

Nothing good can come of these... "dreams." They'll get inside of you. Scar you.
"Just dreams" isn't how I'd refer to them. Madness, maybe. Evil, certainly. There's *nothing* good waiting for you at the end of those experiences. No, nothing.

If you know what's good for you, you'll leave these parts too.
{{GM}}He holds up a hand, face stern.{{/GM}}

No, no. Do I look like a psychic to you? I've got no readings or meanings or any of that nonsense. Just a feeling in my gut. And it's saying to get out! Get out now.

And if you know what's good for you, you'll leave these parts too.
{{GM}}He shrugs, the motion nonchalant and uncaring.{{/GM}}

I take what I can get. Sometimes I find things, sometimes I take things, and sometimes I play the game. Invest a little. Make a little something more in return.
{{GM}}He crosses his arms and looks you over.{{/GM}}

And why do you ask? You judging a perfectly respectable businessman such as myself in these harsh times?

You've never been in this business. I can see it. You've no right to fault me.
Hey, I get it. You gotta do what you gotta do.
Tough line of work you've got going here.
You're right, I haven't. And if I were, I'd probably be doing the same thing.
That's right. And I get by. Thankfully, I've got no family to feed - just some crewmates - so I keep myself afloat. Even make a little extra to enjoy life's finer things, like traveling.

{{GM}}He nods his head approvingly.{{/GM}}
Anyway, I'm nearly stocked up. Just a few more trades, and a few more sales, and I'll be on my way to Macau. This is your last chance to buy any of my wares before I set sail.

So have a look, and take your time.
Tough, sure. Can't stay in any one place for too long, gotta float under the radar, and business partners come and go... but I get to see the world.

{{GM}}He looks out to sea, and his briny beard outlines a wide smile.{{/GM}}

Heading to Macau next. Can't wait to get out of here.
What are you going to do there?
For business or pleasure?
Then I guess I'd better buy something before you head out.
I mostly just need to escape this place. But I also hear the markets in Macau are less regulated than Hong Kong, without a HKPF and all that. And the food... Well, I hear it's worth a trip all of its own.

Anyway, I'm nearly stocked up. Just a few more trades, and a few more sales, and I'll be on my way, so this is your last chance to buy any of my wares before I set sail.
Both. And I don't intend to return - least, not for a long while. So this is your last chance to buy any of my wares before I set sail.

Go ahead and have a look. Take your time.
Aye, that'd help a man out.

{{GM}}He nods at his wares.{{/GM}}

Go ahead and have a look. Take your time.
It's not a bad line of work. Sure, it's a step below honest. But it's a step above shadowrunning. We've got to keep our integrity, right?
{{CC}}Charisma: 2{{/CC}} {{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} I'm a runner. And I'm in this to survive - just like what you're doing here. Would you say I've lost my integrity?
Right...
Who says you can't run and keep your integrity?
{{GM}}His nostrils flare, and he leans back in surprise.{{/GM}}

Wouldn't have pinned you for a runner. Guess I can still be surprised by people.

You look pretty green, though. Take my advice, and don't get too caught up in it. Hold on to yourself.
I'll do whatever it takes to win. If that means shedding that part of myself, then fine. In the end, I'll still be alive.
Don't worry. I have no intention of abandoning my integrity.
{{GM}}The smuggler nods solemnly.{{/GM}}

You do what you have to.
{{GM}}He slaps his stomach and lets out a laugh.{{/GM}}

We gotta have standards.

Anyway, I'm nearly stocked up here. Just a few more trades, and a few more sales, and I'll be on my way to Macau. This is your last chance to buy any of my wares before I set sail, so have a look. Take your time.
I do. Done a fair number of deals with runners. Can't say I've met one with a lick of decency left.

Don't get me wrong. They're great customers... just lack a moral compass.
You're one to talk.
And what would you say if I told you I'm a runner?
{{GM}}His brow furrows.{{/GM}}

There you go, judging me and mine again. While I might keep my business dealings open, I don't *kill* people. Heck, I've never even raised my voice to a stray dog!
{{GM}}His nostrils flare, and he leans back, looking you over. A burst of laughter cracks through his surprise.{{/GM}}

If you're a runner, you're greener than a spring tree!
Ahh, but I like you. So you take an old sailor's advice: don't get too caught up in it. Hold on to yourself.

{{GM}}He pounds his chest with his fist.{{/GM}}

Now, I'm nearly stocked up here. Just a few more trades, and a few more sales, and I'll be on my way to Macau. This is your last chance to buy my wares before I set sail, so have a look.
I'll do whatever it takes to survive.
Don't worry. I have no intention of abandoning my integrity just because I got sucked into running.
Anything else I can get for you? Won't be in town long, so if you need to buy, now's the time.
As you watch, Qian Ya's blast-marked and broken body begins to reform. Her gown knits itself back together, black blood wicking onto the floor.

Slowly, terribly, she begins to laugh.
You cannot kill us, meat. You have not even SEEN us.

{{GM}}Her voice fills with mockery.{{/GM}}

This form is but a shadow. A droplet of divine essence, filtered through a keyhole.
{{GM}}Gaichu's milky eyes sweep across the room. His lip curls into a frown.{{/GM}}

She speaks the truth, after a fashion. That crumpled thing is not Qian Ya, any more than those servitor spirits are.

They are all small fragments of a single whole.
The corpse-eater sees. He glimpses us as we really are.

Were you to behold our full magnificence, your mind would wring itself into pulp.
{{GM}}The crumpled form of Qian Ya rights itself. Begins to rise.{{/GM}}

You will see, slave-thing. We will show you a world not meant for mortal eyes.

YOU WILL SEE.
{{GM}}Gobbet scans the room, her eyes glinting.{{/GM}}

I think that it's telling the truth. That thing over there isn't Qian Ya... it's just a fragment of an enormous astral entity.

The little ones, the servitors, are all parts of her, too.
{{GM}}The glow in her eyes fades. She bites her lip.{{/GM}}

We are so fucked.
{{GM}}Qian Ya begins to cackle.{{/GM}}

The Rat-servant sees the truth of it. Glimpses us as we really are.

Were you to behold our full magnificence, your mind would wring itself into pulp.
Were you to behold our full magnificence, your mind would wring itself into pulp.

{{GM}}The crumpled form of Qian Ya rights itself. Begins to rise.{{/GM}}

You will see. YOU WILL SEE.
Immolation II
A fiery explosion that also does ongoing 10 HP DMG for 2 RNDS. Strips 1 Armor from affected targets.
Sub Basement First Aid Station Code
>4990
Resuscitate
Restores a downed teammate to battle with 25% of their total health.
Resuscitating
Cast Acid Stream
Direct acid attack
Axe
Melee: A heavy axe made for hacking through enemies. Will not do AP DMG on normal hits.
Pistol: An old-school revolver that gives increased damage but fewer combat options. Cannot use the Chain Shot or Double Tap abilities.
Steady Shot
Increases accuracy by 35%.
Dark AOE
A magical explosion.
Pistol: This weapon fires metal slivers, which can cause mild to extreme bleeding in the target.
The dealer is leaning languidly against a wall in his accustomed spot.

His back straightens when he sees you, and he puts on his best smile.
I wondered if I'd see you again. Is our friend Stephen's hunger assuaged?
Haven't had time to talk to him yet.
You won't have to worry about him bothering you again.
Yeah, he's all taken care of. I think he's gonna be okay.
I think that you're about to be out a customer, Lee.
He was a customer, not a bother... but if what you say is true, that is perhaps for the best.

I was worried about Stephen. I'm here to sell experiences, not contribute to a man's early death.
Good. That's good to hear.

I admit, I was... a little worried about Stephen. I'm here to sell experiences, not contribute to a man's early death.
A hard thing to celebrate... but if what you say is true, that is perhaps for the best.

I was worried about Stephen. I'm here to sell experiences, not contribute to a man's early death.
I'm afraid that things went south with Steve. He won't listen to me any more.
Sorry, man. I screwed it up.
I decided not to help him. What's he to me, anyway?
Ah. A pity.

I was hoping to hear that my gift had helped him. I'm worried about Stephen... I'm here to sell experiences, not contribute to a man's early death.
In any event, if you're back here, there must be some business that you'd like to attend to.

So let's get to it, shall we? Tell me what Handsome Lee can do for you.
He should keep to himself for a while.
Yeah, you're good, I think. I'd expect him back here any time to buy himself another "experience," though.
I don't even know what that guy's gonna do. But I talked to him for you.
Ah, very good. Thank you for helping to defuse this situation, friend.
Now, let's get back to business, shall we?

What can Handsome Lee do for you today?
Ah. Well. In any case, thank you for attempting to help defuse the situation.
Ah, very well, then... I assume that you're here for business?
It's muggy out, even for Heoi in monsoon season. You pause to mop your brow.

Suddenly, you feel eyes upon you. As you glance up, you meet the tranquil, searching gaze of a man half-hidden in the shadows.
He's wearing a crisp white tailored shirt, shirtsleeves neatly rolled, with a dark gray silk tie and smart black trousers. If he's sweating, you don't see it.

The man tilts his head ever so slightly in greeting.
A newcomer. Welcome!

{{GM}}He flashes you a brilliant smile, eyes glinting with bemusement. You can just barely detect a faint trace of an accent in his voice.{{/GM}}

Handsome Lee's the name. Purveyor of enhanced sensory experiences. I can see that you've got some tales to tell.
You mentioned you sold "enhanced sensory experiences." Let's see what you've got.
Show me what you've got, Lee.
You're not from around here, are you?
I ran into someone with a message for you.
I'd actually like to talk about you. You said that you came from Taiwan... I want to hear more about that.
Nothing right now. Bye.
Enjoy that. I mean it.

Anything else I can do for you, my friend?
{{GM}}His smile flickers briefly. He's got a decent poker face, but you can see that he's rattled.{{/GM}}

And, ah... why do you ask?
You've still got an accent, Lee. It's barely there, but I can hear it.
You don't act like a local. You're... refined, I guess. You don't belong on the street.
Because Heoi street dealers are too busy to use such flowery language.
Ah.

{{GM}}He fidgets uncomfortably.{{/GM}}

You're right, I'm not from Heoi.
Where are you from, then?
Recent transplant, or just passing through?
I was born in Taiwan. I was forced to flee during the Nationalist War.

I hear you have a... *slight* accent as well. Seattle?

{{GM}}Emphasis on the 'slight.' The corner of his lip curls smugly - it's your move, apparently.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Incline your head.{{/GM}} Good guess. Redmond Barrens.
What's it to you, anyway?
{{GM}}Put on your best fake accent.{{/GM}} Nyet. Russky!
{{GM}}Handsome Lee suddenly fixes you with his gaze, sizing you up. His face is impassible.{{/GM}}

Nasty place.
It toughened me up. I've nothing to be ashamed of.
Where exactly did you grow up, then?
{{GM}}Lee speaks lightly, but he avoids your eyes.{{/GM}}

Never been. I'm afraid it's not on my bucket list, either.
You don't get to choose where you were born, man.
It's not a bucket list kind of destination. More of a place where people kick the bucket.
If you insult my home again, I'm gonna make you eat your teeth.
{{GM}}He smiles ingratiatingly.{{/GM}}

No. No, you do not. I wouldn't put Taiwan on anyone's bucket list, either... at least, not since the war broke out.

But let us talk business, shall we? I *am* a businessman, after all.
{{GM}}Handsome Lee shakes his head and laughs.{{/GM}}

I know that kind of place. But let's not get into it just now, eh? I am a businessman, and I would prefer it if we could stick to business.
So how about it, friend?

{{GM}}He opens his jacket, revealing a myriad of small, bulging pockets sewn into the interior lining.{{/GM}}

Can I show you my wares?
{{GM}}He smiles ingratiatingly.{{/GM}}

My apologies, friend. I intended no offense. Come, let us talk business, shall we?

I *am* a businessman, after all.
I know just what you mean. My own life experiences have left me ready for anything.

But we can discuss this another time, yes? Let us now talk about business... I *am* a businessman, after all.
Taipei. But I'd rather not go into it at the moment, and I'm sure that you have more important things to do than listen to my life story.

Let us discuss business, eh? I *am* a businessman, after all.
{{GM}}The dealer shrugs nonchalantly.{{/GM}}

I enjoy learning about people. Think of me as a student of the human condition.

Whatever one might say about Heoi, the people here are certainly *very* interesting.
Well, where I come from, people mind their own business.
Can't you take a hint? I'm not playing your game.
Yes? And where's that, exactly?
Redmond Barrens.
Mother Russia! I am Russky!
None of your damned business.
{{GM}}Handsome Lee smiles ingratiatingly.{{/GM}}

I suppose not. So let's change the subject, eh? I am a businessman, so let us talk business!
{{GM}}Handsome Lee gives an elegant chuckle.{{/GM}}

Ah, and you've got a sense of humor, too. We can certainly use some levity in this place.
No, really, am Russian.
Yes, it's kind of a shithole, isn't it?
{{GM}}The dealer's smile flashes even more broadly.{{/GM}}

Naturally.

But let us talk business. I'm sure I can find you something to suit your tastes among my wares.
{{GM}}Handsome Lee laughs.{{/GM}}

Yes, but it's what I call home. And what's your story?
Just passing through on business.
Just on vacation.
Ah, very good.

{{GM}}He smiles ingratiatingly.{{/GM}}

As it so happens, I am a businessman. Perhaps you'd like to talk business with me?
{{GM}}Handsome Lee roars with laughter.{{/GM}}

You must come from a terrible place if you visit Heoi for rest and relaxation.
You could say that. There are nicer neighborhoods than the Redmond Barrens.
I'm here for the action and adventure.
Recent transplant. I split my time between Heoi and Aberdeen, though I'm mostly in the latter these days.

I come here by way of Taiwan. That was my home until I was forced to flee during the Nationalist War.
I hear you have a *slight* accent as well. Let me guess...

{{GM}}Emphasis on the 'slight.' The corner of his lip curls smugly.{{/GM}}

...Seattle?
{{GM}}Handsome Lee beckons you closer with a languid gesture.{{/GM}}

I think I can guess. Stephen Dynamite?

{{GM}}He coolly raises an eyebrow at you.{{/GM}}
Yeah, actually. That's right. And you're his dealer.
If you're so smart, then, can you guess what his message is?
It was about time for him to contact me. I know his cycles *very* well.

{{GM}}He gives you a knowing nod.{{/GM}}

He's one of my most loyal customers.
Not for long, Lee. The latest batch that you sold him sent him on a really bad trip.
Yeah, I'm sure. But hey, guess what? You poisoned him.
He's all wigged out, and he blames the last batch that you sold him.
{{GM}}He pauses thoughtfully.{{/GM}}

Interesting. And what does he want from me?
What do you think? He wants his nuyen back.
What do you think, man? Haven't you ever been shaken down before?
{{GM}}He straightens abruptly from his elegant slouch and juts his chin out.{{/GM}}

There was absolutely nothing wrong with my latest creation. It was painstakingly designed to elevate the senses and titillate the spirit - a smooth high that I have indulged in myself.
Now. If the unfortunate Stephen happened to dilute my masterpiece with other, lesser substances, I can hardly be held responsible.

{{GM}}His tone of finality is unmistakable.{{/GM}}
Then I'm afraid that we've got a problem, Lee. Steve paid me to get his money back.
You can use all the flowery language you want. I'm not leaving here empty-handed.
You don't get it. I don't care whether your drugs work or not. I just want Steve's money.
He... *paid* you..? To get back his *money?*

How does that make any sense?
That isn't my problem. The point is, I took the job.
Honestly, I was wondering the same thing, but I'm not gonna argue.
A job's a job, and a promise is a promise. Doesn't matter whether it makes sense or not.
{{GM}}He stares at you for a long moment, then reaches into his breast pocket. With a deft motion, he pulls out a small packet and presents it to you.{{/GM}}

There is no money - not any more. I have expenses, just as I'm sure that you do. But here, give this to Stephen with my regards.
What's in the package?
That isn't what he asked me for. He wants money, not more drugs.
For me? You shouldn't have!
A freebie. It's what our dear Stephen Dynamite really wants, whether he'll admit it or not.

Deliver it with my compliments.
I thought that only the first hit was free.
And this freebie of yours... is it supposed to cure his nightmares?
His brain is pudding already. More drugs won't help him.
No way. He sent me for nuyen, and that's what you're gonna give him.
{{GM}}He cocks his head to the side with a wry smile.{{/GM}}

I suppose I have a soft spot for my clients when I know they're down.
Does this mean you poisoned him after all and feel bad about it now?
You're practically a charitable organization.
{{GM}}The dealer emits a long, drawn-out sigh.{{/GM}}

I most certainly did *not* poison him - or anyone else, for that matter. If Stephen is having bad dreams, they're coming from someplace else.

I won't claim that my product can cure him of his suffering, but at the very least, it can provide him with some relief.
"Relief" is the exact word that he used.
What good is this temporary fix, anyhow? Why bother?
{{GM}}The dealer nods sagely.{{/GM}}

I told you that I know Stephen well enough to guess when he'll be desperate for another hit.
So is his addiction the entire problem? Is that why he's suffering so much?
People are that predictable, huh?
He's lucky to have a "friend" like you to look after him.
{{GM}}Lee shakes his head slowly.{{/GM}}

No. I'm just not surprised to hear from him now, because it was time.

But I can't explain these unusual dreams he's having.
Anyway.

{{GM}}He holds the packet out toward you and gives it a shake.{{/GM}}

Take this. Give it to him. It should help him, at least in the short-term.
{{GM}}Take the drugs for Stephen Dynamite.{{/GM}} All right, Lee. I'll take them to him.
Very good. Please let me know how it goes when you're done.
{{GM}}The dealer raises one eyebrow.{{/GM}}

To an extent, yes.

Anyway, I make a point of understanding people. It helps the business run smoothly, and I never have to use force.
You *never* get violent? With street rivals and deadbeat junkies running around?
{{GM}}He lays a slender finger along his aquiline nose.{{/GM}}

Never. For one, it's not my style. Second, I know to make an exit before things get too hot.
So basically you're a coward.
Timing your exits right is certainly a life skill.
You're a lucky bastard, then. This is a rough neighborhood.
{{GM}}Lee smiles easily.{{/GM}}

I simply don't engage in fights I can't win.

I've mastered the art of convincing people that it's better having me around - along with my superior abilities in the manufacture of euphoric substances.
{{GM}}Lee nods gravely.{{/GM}}

I wish my skill could have saved some people in my past, but no matter. It serves me well in the here and now.
I'm sorry about that, man. We all have regrets about the past.
It's not much of a skill if it's no use to those who really matter.
{{GM}}Lee's gaze drifts off into the distance briefly, but he shakes himself from his thoughts.{{/GM}}

Yes. And some individuals have more regrets than others - like Stephen.
{{GM}}Lee's eyes narrow, and his mouth assumes a pinched quality.{{/GM}}

You're right, of course. Saving my own skin is nothing to brag about.
Luck has nothing to do with it. You keep your wits about you, you survive.
{{GM}}The dealer waggles a finger at you.{{/GM}}

Oh, please. We both know I'm not his *friend.*

But I'm not a monster. This is my form of assistance, such as it is.
{{GM}}Lee acknowledges you with a nod.{{/GM}}

It's a fair question.

Stephen's problems won't be resolved overnight. My little gift... simply lets him know that someone cares.

{{GM}}His smile widens, and he tilts his head toward you expectantly.{{/GM}}
That's very touching.
A dealer in need is a friend indeed. Will you be *my* friend?
The hell it does. It keeps him from getting clean.
{{GM}}The dealer smiles sheepishly.{{/GM}}

Well, let's not exaggerate. I strive to treat Stephen as befits a longtime customer.
For you, my friend, it all depends on your long-term cash flow.

{{GM}}Lee's eyes twinkle.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Lee shrugs dismissively,.{{/GM}}

I seriously doubt that my withholding drugs from Stephen would do anything but hurt my pocketbook. He's *not* trying to kick his habit.

He'd just go to another dealer, so why shouldn't I foster my relationship with the poor man?
{{GM}}The man smiles blandly.{{/GM}}

Quite.
Okay. So this freebie that you're giving to Stephen... is it supposed to cure him?
Got any charity for me, then? I wouldn't mind a freebie myself.
{{GM}}Lee favors you with the bright flash of his smile.{{/GM}}

Sorry. If I give away any more product, I'll wind up a charity case myself.

Be a good $(l.man) and give that sample to Stephen. I can't claim that it will cure his bad dreams, but it should provide him some modicum of relief.
{{GM}}The dealer regards you steadily.{{/GM}}

Of course not. But it will bring relief - and if I'm not mistaken, that's what Stephen is itching for right about now. Correct?
{{GM}}The dealer regards you steadily.{{/GM}}

Of course they won't. But they *will* bring relief - and if I'm not mistaken, that's what Stephen is itching for right about now. Correct?
Look. Even if I had nuyen to return to him, what do you think he'd do with it?

He'd be back here in fifteen minutes, handing it back to me for another hit.
What I'm offering won't *cure* Stephen, or stop him from having bad dreams. But it will bring him a modicum of relief... and if I'm not mistaken, that's what our stuttering friend is itching for right about now.

Correct?
{{GM}}The dealer smirks.{{/GM}}

I'm sure that you'd enjoy it. But no, this is for Stephen. Think of it as a consolation gift.
The gift of... feeding a destructive addiction?
What is it, exactly?
I'm sure he'll be delighted... until the nightmares return.
{{GM}}Lee smiles broadly.{{/GM}}

Stephen's not trying to kick his habit, so I'm not going to feel bad about it.

Besides, I'd rather that he enjoys my superior product than bog-standard cram-cut-with-glitter from some corner hack.
If nothing else at all, what I'm offering Stephen should bring him some modicum of relief.

That *is* what he's after, isn't it?
{{GM}}The dealer chuckles softly.{{/GM}}

Why, it's the same concoction as last time - the "poison."
You really think Steve's going to take some more of this stuff?
That's kinda cruel, don't you think?
Well, it's free. That's the best kind of drug.
Sorry to say, but yes, he absolutely will. And in the grand scheme of things, it probably won't help him... but in the short-term, it should provide him some modicum of relief.

That *is* what he wants, isn't it?
It would only be cruel if it were actually poison. But my product is *not* poison. It is, in a word, *sublime.*

I will concede that it probably won't help Stephen with his nightmare issues in the long term. But it should, at least, provide him some modicum of short-term relief. That *is* what he's looking for, isn't it?
{{GM}}The dealer laughs, and his teeth flash pearly white.{{/GM}}

Quite. And while I'll concede that it won't help Stephen in the long term, it should, at least, provide him some modicum of short-term relief.

That *is* what he's looking for, isn't it?
{{GM}}Lee frowns, suddenly earnest.{{/GM}}

And I'll tell you again, the nightmares aren't my fault. The drugs that I sold him aren't even hallucinogens. If he's being haunted by visions, they have nothing to do with me.

Still, the sample I'm giving him should provide some short-term relief.
Ah. He wants his money back.

{{GM}}He straightens abruptly from his elegant slouch and juts his chin out.{{/GM}}

There was absolutely nothing wrong with my latest creation. It was painstakingly designed to elevate the senses and titillate the spirit - a smooth high that I have indulged in myself.
{{GM}}His smile broadens.{{/GM}}

With the myriad of drugs that Stephen filters through his system, it's almost a honor to be singled out this way. That said, I seriously doubt that I "poisoned" him.

Go ahead, though. Tell me what he wants.
He was already "wigged out." Stephen has been a habitual drug user for years.

{{GM}}He sighs.{{/GM}}

But all right. Go ahead and tell me... what does dear Stephen want?
{{GM}}He places his hand on his heart in mock indignation.{{/GM}}

I am the inventor of much-acclaimed experimental pharmaceuticals. But why split hairs?
Well, your little guinea pig is suffering. Claims that a drug you sold him is giving him horrible visions.
Call yourself whatever you like. You poisoned the poor guy.
From an avid consumer like Stephen, there's only one possible message: more.
Wrong. He says that he's been having terrible nightmares ever since he took your drug.
Actually, there are two possible messages. The second one goes "my dealer poisoned me."
{{GM}}He pauses for a moment, mulling it over. Finally, he acquiesces with a nod.{{/GM}}

If you like. We've worked together, in a sense... if Stephen hadn't sent you, he'd have sent someone else, and things might not have gone as smoothly.

I suppose that I owe you for that.
Damn right you do.
Well, I wasn't gonna say it.
Happy to have helped, Lee.
Indeed. So. Where to begin?

{{GM}}Handsome Lee's features soften almost imperceptibly.{{/GM}}

I grew up in a Taipei ghetto not unlike the Redmond Barrens. Worked my fingers to the bone to get an education.
Yeah? What was your major?
Lemme guess. Art history.
Life's tough all over, Lee. I'd be willing to bet that half the people in Heoi have the same kind of story.
I was studying chemistry. I was promised a job by a megacorp. I thought I'd found a way out.

But that all vanished overnight with the war.
So you lost your gig to the war, huh? That's rough.
So you aspired to become a lab rat and a corporate flunky, and it didn't work out. Too bad for you.
How'd you end up in Heoi, then? Surely your credentials gave you access to other options.
I went to the manager who'd wanted to hire me, and I begged her to use the megacorp's resources to get us out - me, and my family.

I had a fiancée, you see, and a widowed sister with two young sons. I was supposed to be our window out of the ghetto, and into a better life.
But when I made my request, the woman laughed in my face. With the war raging around us, she no longer had a use for me.

It wasn't her job to save women and children. She made that abundantly clear.
Megacorps aren't charitable organizations. News flash.
That's cold. Where are your fiancée and your family now?
No, they aren't. Neither are street dealers, but that didn't prevent me from helping poor Stephen.

It isn't a matter of charity. It's a matter of basic decency - of *humanity.* I have it. She didn't.
{{GM}}A shadow crosses Handsome Lee's elegant features.{{/GM}}

My family and I were separated in the chaos.

I scoured every rendezvous point that we'd ever discussed. I left messages.

Nothing.
I'm sorry, man. I suppose Hong Kong isn't a bad place to hole up and wait for information.
Life's tough all over. My advice to you: pick up the pieces and move on.
{{GM}}His jaw clenches for a second. Finally he speaks, somewhat bitterly.{{/GM}}

That's true. But I've long since given up. I respect that you've lived a rough life yet still know how to hope.
Maybe. I'm stubborn that way.
I do my best.
{{GM}}Handsome Lee bursts into laughter.{{/GM}}

I like your attitude.

{{GM}}His face darkens.{{/GM}}

I had wanted to escape, pretend I hadn't grown up in poverty and squalor. Do you want to know why I chose to live here, in the shadow of the Walled City, rather than seek out more... legitimate prosperity?
Will you look at the time? I think I gotta run.
I loved the fine things I experienced when I seemed poised to enter the upper echelons of society. But it was all based on lies.

And I love chemistry. I'm... very good at what I do.
Here, I can still use my talents. Nobody gives a shit what I wear or how I speak, just so long as I deliver the high. There's something honest and forthright about junkies and their urges.

The megacorps, on the other hand, are rotten with hypocrisy.
You said it. Thanks for your story, man.
Truer words have never been spoken.
Thank *you.* Thank you for hearing me.

There aren't many who do.
Now... let's get back to business, shall we? I have a wide variety of happy experiences for sale.

I've got family memories in a pill - they're almost as good as the real thing. Or a powder for those memories you'd rather forget. Whatever you might need, Handsome Lee is here to help.

No.

No, they have not.
{{GM}}Handsome Lee raises his eyebrows at your abruptness. His easy smile returns, though it doesn't reach his eyes.{{/GM}}

Come back soon. I'm sure I can find you something to suit your tastes among my wares.
As do we all.

{{GM}}His face darkens.{{/GM}}

I had wanted to escape, pretend I hadn't grown up in poverty and squalor. Do you want to know why I chose to live here, in the shadow of the Walled City, rather than seek out more... legitimate prosperity?
{{GM}}His jaw clenches for a second. Finally he speaks, somewhat bitterly.{{/GM}}

I've done my best to do exactly that. You might even go so far as to say that I've given up.

I respect the rough life that you've lived, friend. Do you still know how to hope?
Sure. I'm stubborn that way.
Sometimes. I do my best.
{{GM}}A shadow crosses Handsome Lee's elegant features.{{/GM}}

We were separated in the chaos. I scoured every rendezvous point that we'd ever discussed. I left messages.

Nothing.
{{GM}}He raises his palms complacently.{{/GM}}

I was a naïve young man with naïve dreams. It's happened before.
How'd you end up in Heoi?
Boo hoo. Half the wrecks around here tell that same story.
Like so many of my compatriots, I followed the trickle of immigrants to Hong Kong.

In Heoi, I'm free to do as I please, and I don't get too many people asking unpleasant questions.
Like the questions that I'm asking you?
Not much of a step up from your old ghetto, is it?
Your questions don't bother me. Ask whatever you want.

And to get back to your earlier point, there was a reason why it "didn't work out." Indifference.
It has its charms. Notably, I don't have to put up with pompous middle-managers any more.
With the war raging around me, I went to the woman who'd wanted to hire me, you see. I begged her to use the megacorp's resources to get us out - me, and my family.
I had a fiancée. A widowed sister with two young sons.

I had to get them out of Taipei before something dreadful happened.
I'm sure that they do. And that does nothing to dilute the impact that my experiences have had on me.

There is a very specific reason why I'm telling this particular story, by the way. I can sum it up in a single word.

Indifference.
I had a fiancée. And a widowed sister with two young sons. We couldn't stay.

I went to the manager who'd wanted to hire me. I begged her to use the megacorp's resources to get us out.
{{GM}}The corner of his mouth twitches upward.{{/GM}}

Ah... no. Not as such. I was studying chemistry.

I was promised a job by a megacorp. I thought I'd found a way out. But that all vanished overnight with the war.
As you say. But this is *my* story, which I am telling because you *asked* me to.

So, if I may continue...?
Go ahead. You were saying?
I wasn't stopping you.
Actually, I'm done with this. Let's go back to talking business.
Yes, of course. That *is* what I'm here for, after all.
Much obliged. So. Where to begin?

{{GM}}Handsome Lee's features soften almost imperceptibly.{{/GM}}

I grew up in a Taipei ghetto not unlike the Redmond Barrens. Worked my fingers to the bone to get an education.
{{GM}}He nods his head.{{/GM}}

Be well.
Hey again. Care to do business?
Saeder-Krupp Skillwires
A simple skillwire system designed to give the user more control over aiming projectile weapons. Passive: +1 Quickness, +1 Ranged Combat.
This dumpy-looking man is busily hawking a variety of grilled spherical treats of various sizes. Some are sold individually, some are skewered on sticks, and some are packaged up in sets of four or six. A sign on the front of the cart reads "Keita's One-Yen Yatai."

A cacophony of small trid screens are attached to the cart, each playing a different trid show.
Interest you in some dango? Takoyaki? Maybe a nice nikuman - that's a pork bun, with a Japanese twist! Any kind of tasty Japanese treat you can imagine, I've got it.

Maybe some curry fish balls are your speed! Keita will give you your heart's desire, providing that desire is on my menu.
{{GM}}1¥{{/GM}} Let me have some dango.
Fish balls aren't really my thing.
Your wish is my command, good $(l.sir)!

{{GM}}Keita deftly pulls one of the dango sticks out of the cart and drops it onto the grill. A small robotic arm slides out from the cart and begins turning the stick until the balls of rice flour are a toasted brown color. Lifting them from the grill, Keita dips the entire stick in a tub of sticky brown sauce before handing it to you.{{/GM}}
The snack has both a sweet and salty flavor reminiscent of sesame seeds and soy. The balls inside are pleasantly warm, and surprisingly chewy - a bit like eating raw dough, but without the attendant chalky taste.
{{GM}}Keita leans back, studying you intently. The trid projections from his cart cause his face to be lit in a constantly shifting array of rainbow hues.{{/GM}}

So, what brings you to Whampoa Garden, my friend? Somehow I doubt it's just the street food.
Just here on a job.
I'm looking into the killing of the Whampoan Elders.
{{GM}}Keita nods, just once.{{/GM}}

I can respect that. Sometimes the tides of life take you to strange places - and few places are stranger than this one! Hah!
{{GM}}Keita shivers, wrapping his arms around his body.{{/GM}}

I've been hearing a lot about that. Haven't looked too closely, though - it's just none of my business, you know?
{{GM}}As you snack, Gobbet leans over to inspect the remaining dango ball. She inhales deeply, waving her hands so as to capture the maximum possible amount of aroma.{{/GM}}

Oh. Oh, I like the smell of that. Like sesame ball dim sum, but with more salt.

{{GM}}Her eyes close as she goes back to inhaling the scent, as if lost in a trance.{{/GM}}
Psh, what's wrong with you? You don't like anything good. Stinky tofu I could see, but curry fish balls are the grease that makes this city's engine turn. You want to feel like a local, don't you? Get some!
Ahh, you don't know what you're missing. It's not the same as the oden stew I'd eat growing up, but it's close enough to count as comfort food for me.

Simple pleasures, right? Without those, you don't have anything.
Welcome back to Keita's One-Yen Yatai!

What can I do for you?
What can you tell me about the people here?
What's with all the trid screens?
Got any thoughts on the murders?
Hey, can you tell me anything about this piece of armor?
See you later, Keita.
We're tech-heads, deckers, riggers, trid pirates, and everything in between. If I had to define this place, I'd say it's Asia's mecca for people like us.

As for the Elders, I can give you the basics - I'm a small fry, so we're not exactly on social terms
Ng's some kind of crazy tech-witch. She summons up spirits and casts spells, and works as the spiritual center of the tribe. She's a lot craftier than she seems, too.

She has this 'mother to everyone' act going on, but I've watched her manipulate people into doing all kinds of stuff they wouldn't normally do, and they thought it was their idea the whole time.
Magically, you mean?
No, I don't think so. She's just really good with people.

Ip's a killer. Addicted to cybernetic implants. He always has to have the newest and freshest gear. The funny thing is, I've never seen him fight. I kinda get the impression he's a coward - he'd rather let one of his buddies handle a problem than do it himself.
All I know about Tang is that he loves drones and does a little decking. Frankly, I find him kind of boring. All he talks about is neural networks, 'dark knowledge', and evolution of machine learning.

Like I said: boring.
{{GM}}Keita beams, and gestures excitedly at them.{{/GM}}

You like them?! I love trid operas - Chinese, Korean, Japanese, Indonesian, it doesn't matter. This way I can watch all of my favorite shows without missing a beat, and I can work at the same time!
Pirated trid is my other business. I rip the streams in the Matrix - tap right into the corporate feeds - and resell them on chip out here.

{{GM}}Keita's face falls a bit, and his enthusiasm wanes.{{/GM}}

I wish it could pay the bills, but my food cart's a lot better at that. I don't know why, but most of the other Whampoans seem to like sim over trid.
They don't know what they're missing, though! One episode of "Thousand Cranes of Autumn" and they'd be hooked for life. I'm just at the part where O-Rin has confessed her love to Takayama, but he's got to get his mech suit out to the front lines on Mars, so he can't be with her.

Downright heartbreaking, I tell you.
That sounds like an interesting show, all right.
Let me ask you something else, Keita.
{{GM}}Eyes twinkling, Keita leans forward in breathless excitement.{{/GM}}

Oh, you have no idea! Three hundred and twelve episodes, chronicling a noble mech pilot and the tumultuous love affair he has with an space station governor's daughter! The pathos! The majesty! The Battle of Lagrange One spans five episodes, just by itself.
For some reason, I guess it just didn't resonate with the wider public. I don't know why...

Who doesn't want to see a trid show about giant flying robots, love, betrayal, and spies?
I've got to stop myself before I get carried away...

Was there something else you needed?
Sure thing!

What can I tell you about?
Yeah. "Ignore them."

{{GM}}Keita shrugs indifferently.{{/GM}}

I saw the crowd down at Tong's Sensory Carnival earlier tonight, but I didn't know the guy very well. I'm a trid fan, he liked the sims. Not a lot of cross-over between us.
{{GM}}Keita shoots you a quizzical look.{{/GM}}

I own a street food cart. What makes you think I know anything about armor? Is it made of rice flour or something?
I was hoping you could translate some Japanese on it.
Oh! In that case, I actually *can* help you. Let me see.

{{GM}}He turns the chunk of armor over in his hands, peering at it closely. After a moment, he hands it back.{{/GM}}

It says "Renraku kagaku kabushiki-gaisha." It's the Japanese name for Renraku Applied Sciences, the materials research branch of Renraku Asia. Where the hell did you get this, anyway?
I fished it out of a drain in the parking garage.
I think it came from the person killing the Whampoan Elders.
No kidding? That's a hell of a place to find a piece of high tech armor that's got a Renraku mark on it. Why would it have been in there?
I think the serial killer fought some cops in there.
{{GM}}Keita's expression turns dubious.{{/GM}}

I don't know much about the megas, but this seems like some pretty rare armor to find on a serial killer. I don't think off-the-shelf armor has this research mark, and it seems pretty high quality. You'd have to be well-connected to get something like this.
This dated door lock looks like it's recently been upgraded with a keycard scanner.
The door opens with a series of creaks and groans - clearly as old, if not older, than the keypad.
Ares High Explosive Grenade
The top of the line is Ares military spec high explosive grenade.
Benelli Raffaello (Smartlink)
Shotgun: A low-end, all-purpose shotgun, with an attached Smartlink system.
Dried blood and bulletholes pockmark the floor, pillars, and walls of the parking garage. Judging by the amount of blood staining the floor, multiple people died here. To call the scene "bloody" would be to do it a disservice - this was a massacre of tremendous proportions.
Look at this, $(l.name).

{{GM}}Duncan points to several scratches on the floor and in the pillar.{{/GM}}

These scratches look like they're from a long bladed weapon like a sword or machete.
That matches the wound on Tong's neck. Our killer must have fought the HKPF in here and cut them apart. With the number of bullet holes in the walls and cars around here, they must have just been spraying wildly.

{{GM}}Duncan checks the chamber on his assault rifle.{{/GM}}

I tell you what, I don't want to have to fight this maniac at close range.
With the number of bullet holes in the walls and cars around here, they must have just been spraying wildly. Our killer must have fought the HKPF in here and cut them apart. Since they never found a body, I've gotta assume the killer got away.

{{GM}}Duncan checks the chamber on his assault rifle.{{/GM}}

I tell you what, I don't want to have to fight this maniac at close range.
Look at this, $(l.name).

{{GM}}Racter points to several scratches on the floor and in the pillar.{{/GM}}

These scratches look like they're from a long bladed weapon like a sword or machete.
That matches the wound on Tong's neck. Our killer must have fought the HKPF in here and cut them apart. With the number of bullet holes in the walls and cars around here, they must have just been spraying wildly.

I don't relish the idea of fighting this killer in cramped quarters.
With the number of bullet holes in the walls and cars around here, they must have just been spraying wildly. Our killer must have fought the HKPF in here and cut them apart. Since they never found a body, I have assume the killer got away.
Look at this, $(l.name).

{{GM}}Gobbet points to several scratches on the floor and in the pillar.{{/GM}}

These scratches look like they're from a long bladed weapon like a sword or machete.
That matches the wound on Tong's neck. Our killer must have fought the HKPF in here and cut them apart. With the number of bullet holes in the walls and cars around here, they must have just been spraying wildly.

I tell you what, I don't want to have to fight this maniac at close range.
With the number of bullet holes in the walls and cars around here, they must have just been spraying wildly. Our killer must have fought the HKPF in here and cut them apart. Since they never found a body, I've gotta assume the killer got away.
Look at this, $(l.name).

{{GM}}Is0bel points to several scratches on the floor and in the pillar.{{/GM}}

These scratches look like they're from a long bladed weapon like a sword or machete.
You notice a series of long scratches on the concrete floor and across the pillar. They seem to be from a long bladed weapon like a sword or machete.
The depth and angle of the scratches matches the wound on Tong's neck. With the number of bullet holes in the walls and cars around here, the HKPF must have just been spraying wildly while he cut them apart.
With the number of bullet holes in the walls and cars around here, the HKPF must have just been spraying wildly while the killer cut them down.
Advanced Self Repair Protocol
The drone can preserve its basic systems at the cost of 1 AP. This replenishes 20 HP.
Magpie's desk is the kind of messy most people only associate with rat's nests, hoarders, and deckers. The surface of the desk is littered with cigarette butts, half-finished cans of soykaf, and scraps of electronics.

A towering pile of empty instant noodle bowls sits next to it; their sides are blazoned with "Honest Wang's Instant Old-Time Lamian", and depict a line of top hat wearing caterpillars, dancing with canes.
Hey, awesome! I didn't think anybody but me liked Honest Wang's noodles. Flavor like you've never tasted in a package of instant noodles, I promise.

{{GM}}Gobbet taps the side of one container.{{/GM}}

See? This one's cheese curry broccoli! I dunno why it never caught on, honestly.
{{GM}}Duncan shoots you a sidelong glance, mumbling sotto voce.{{/GM}}

Gee. Who could pass up the delicious taste of cheese, curry, and freeze-dried vegetables?
{{GM}}Gobbet seems oblivious to Duncan's sarcasm.{{/GM}}

I know, right?! People out there have no idea what kind of culinary delights they're missing!
I can smell that stuff across the entire boat when you cook it. It's a bit like old socks, with a side of vinegar.

The first time I smelled it, I thought you were fumigating.
Psh. Is0bel, your main problem is that you have no idea what's delicious and what isn't. Expand your horizons! There's a whole world of deliciousness waiting for you at every corner store!
{{GM}}Is0bel snorts derisively.{{/GM}}

My horizons are fine where they are, thanks. After all, I can still tell if I'm eating food or cardboard. That's one of those little things I'd like to hold on to.
{{GM}}Racter seems intrigued by the packaging. He tilts his head, peering at the long list of artificial flavors, colorings, and preservatives.{{/GM}}

I'm reasonably certain I could use these noodles as a precursor to some basic explosives. God only knows what it would do to your stomach.
{{GM}}Gobbet grins broadly, tilting her head back.{{/GM}}

It fills it with bliss. Pure pulpy noodle-bliss.
It might be bliss, but... Look, here.

{{GM}}Racter points at a particular line on the ingredient list.{{/GM}}

If you ate this along with some painkillers and that awful lemon soda you like so much, you might end up exploding. Be careful about physical activity if you ever mix those three. I don't want to mop your intestines off your cabin's ceiling.
Sweet mother of god...

{{GM}}Duncan recoils, a revolted expression spreading over his face.{{/GM}}

Deckers, man. I don't get it. Why the hell wouldn't you pick up after yourself, if this is where you work?
{{GM}}Is0bel shrugs indifferently.{{/GM}}

She was probably busy. When you get in the zone, you have to keep at it. That's just how it goes, when you're in the Matrix. She probably had a timer in her deck to remind her to toggle back to meatspace and eat.
{{GM}}Duncan looks at you, giving you a pointed glare.{{/GM}}

If I ever have to get in 'the zone' that bad, promise me you'll punch me in the head. This place is gross.
{{GM}}Is0bel smirks wryly.{{/GM}}

Yep. This is a decker's desk, all right. I know a lot of hot shit deckers that'll get on a marathon hacking tear, and won't even get up to eat. They have a toggle switch on their deck. They pop back to meatspace, pull a tab on some self-heating meal, scarf it down and go back to work.
I admit, the long term health implications of that kind of behavior worries me. Severely.

{{GM}}After a moment, Racter purses his lips.{{/GM}}

Although... With a neo-appendix and the right kind of nepheritic screen, most of the damage could be mitigated.
Hey, if you're that kind of decker, malnutrition is the least of your worries. You're a hell of a lot more likely to get brain-burned when you're diving into some nasty stack of IC than you are to make it to old age.
{{GM}}Racter's expression is one of wonderment as he surveys the desk.{{/GM}}

This desk could probably serve as a testbed for an alien planet's ecology. I shudder to think of the myriad molds and fungi that are growing here.
Magpie's desk is still just as messy as ever - the piles of cigarette butts, soykaf cans and instant noodle containers steadfastly sit impassively, as if taunting you to clean them up.
{{GM}}Search the desk.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Leave the desk alone.{{/GM}}
You gingerly root around in the desk, doing your best to avoid the more disgusting piles and spills. It isn't easy.

The desk's drawers are stuffed to overflowing with receipts, cigarette packs, optical chips, and cables. Most of the contents is boring, useless, and disgusting.
While searching one of the bottom drawers, however, a low-quality tin lockbox catches your eye. Someone has pried the latch off, leaving a ragged hole where a lock should be.

The interior of the box has several sleeves for storing keycards, all of which are empty. A small note is taped to the interior of the box.
Spare stockroom keys - the door is in the rear of Mrs. Yang's restaurant. DO NOT LOSE THESE.

Use only if I am not available to open the stockroom.
A stockroom, huh? So who broke the lockbox to get the keys out?
Maybe it was one of the Elders. They had the key for this place.
Probably whoever cleaned out Magpie's equipment.
I guess that's possible, but why would they leave the lockbox here? They could just pack it up and take it back to The Whampoa. Leaving it here is sloppy. And look at this...

{{GM}}Is0bel points at the broken latch.{{/GM}}

Most of the elders could crack a maglock. This was somebody in a hurry.
I'm thinking you're right. Whoever tore the latch off the box was in a hurry. Any of the Elders could have cracked the maglock without much trouble, and most regular Whampoans could too. This seems like somebody who was tossing the place and wanted to get in and out as fast as possible.

If someone was after Magpie's gear, her stockroom would be a gold mine.
Ahh, the plot thickens. A secret lockbox, the latch and lock torn out... And all the keys to Magpie's treasure trove missing. Who do you suppose stole them?
I don't think so. The Whampoans are technologically adept, and that lockbox's maglock was probably of the cheapest quality. It wouldn't present much difficulty for an Elder. And why would they leave the lockbox here? They could have simply taken it with them to work on it at their leisure.
That would make sense. The culprit would have been in a hurry - if these Whampoans are as tech-savvy as they seem, a cheap maglock wouldn't present much difficulty for them. And anyone looking to loot Magpie's shop wouldn't want to pass up her stockroom. It would be full of even more valuable gear.
Well, that's interesting. Looks like rather than bother with cracking the lock, somebody just ripped it out. There's some scratching around the latch that looks like they used a knife or a screwdriver for leverage.

Who do you suppose broke into the box?
I can't rule it out, but I'd be surprised if it was one of them. They could have taken the box back to their shop and cracked that crappy maglock at their leisure. I mean, who'd stop them and question them?

This seems more like someone who was in a hurry.
That would make sense. A treasure trove of chips and software would be too much to pass up, even for somebody in a hurry to get in and get out. Might be worth checking out, if we can find out who took the keycards.
Looks to me like whoever wanted into that box wasn't willing to take the time to crack that lock. That box is total crap, and I can't imagine the lock would be much better. They must have been in a real hurry to get it open.
You think? From everything I've heard, the Whampoans wouldn't have much of a problem cracking a maglock - especially a cheap one. It seems more likely to me that whoever did this was in a big rush. An Elder could have just taken it back to their cabin in The Whampoa and gone to work.

Who'd stop an Elder and ask them why they had a lockbox, anyway?
You're probably right. This is a messy job, and the Whampoans aren't generally messy when it comes to tech stuff. I'm betting somebody was in a hurry to get to Magpie's stash in her stockroom. More chips means more money - something the Elders don't seem to be hurting for.
Camouflaged Full Suit
Excellent protection and mobility. A favorite of 'discreet' CorpSec units. Grants +1 Close Combat, +1 Ranged Combat, and +1 Dodge.
A lithe ork with a prominent jaw stands here, growling. Her neck tattoos mark her as a Red Pole in the Yellow Lotus, and the patches on her vest call her out as a resident of the Lotus Den.
Watcha wanna bet that's Bao's replacement? Looks like the type.
A smaller, lankier man cowers before her, his hands clasped in supplication.

A group of Yellow Lotus 49ers stand clustered around them, smirking, their weapons drawn.
{{GM}}The triad ganger leans forward, puffing out her chest and flexing. Her muscles bulge.{{/GM}}

You heard me, dog. You wanna live, you give me the shit. Otherwise, I'm gonna rip off your fingers and shove 'em down your throat.
{{GM}}His eyes dart from ganger to ganger before coming back to rest on the Red Pole.{{/GM}}

Please, Song. I can't give you what you're looking for. There are plenty of people in the Walled City who have a lot more to steal than I--
{{GM}}She begins to stalk forward. With each step, she counts down.{{/GM}}

Five.

Four.

Three.
{{GM}}He raises his hands. Bows his head.{{/GM}}

Look, I don't want any trouble. I've got no quarrel with you. And I don't *have* any--
{{GM}}She takes another step.{{/GM}}

Two.
{{GM}}Step forward.{{/GM}} Leave the man alone.
{{GM}}Shout.{{/GM}} Hey! Back away from him!
{{GM}}Attack the triad ganger.{{/GM}} If I'm here to clean up the Walled City, I might as well start with you.
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}} Sorry, man. I can't stick my neck out for you.
{{GM}}The shaman calls out to you.{{/GM}}

Please, help me! I'll make it worth your while if you do!
{{GM}}Step.{{/GM}}

One.
{{GM}}Song sneers at you, her lips curling into an arrogant smile.{{/GM}}

You know what's good for you, you'll turn and run. Your call.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Shadowrunner{{/CC}} Take another look. I'm packing more heat than you are.
{{CC}}Body: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Hard){{/CC}} Go ahead, little man. Take a swing. See what happens.
Listen, how about I give you some scratch and you lay off the guy?
She stares at you for a long moment, and the sneer falls off of her face.

She raises her hands in a placating gesture.
All right, all right. You're right, we don't wanna pick a fight with you. Wouldn't do anybody any good to turn this block into a warzone.

But that asshole has something that I want, and I always get what I want.
If you're looking for easy meat, I've got a better target for you. There's a Tsang security guard just over there, alone and outgunned.
If you're itching for a fight, you fight me. Otherwise, back down.
Guard? That guy?

{{GM}}She jabs her thumb in the direction of the Tsang cordon.{{/GM}}

What makes you think I'd wanna tangle with him?
{{GM}}The street shaman cuts in.{{/GM}}

Why do you think? Gear, man. If you think that *I'm* worth robbing, just imagine what you can pull off of *him!*
All right, yeah... that's an interesting proposition. But what about the turret that he's standing beside? It'll cut my people in half!
I've already disabled it. You've got nothing to worry about.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Medium){{/CC}} {{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} I took care of that before I came over here. I wouldn't try to get you killed.
If I take care of it, will you take out the guard?
All right... okay. That's good, you came prepared.

{{GM}}She nods slowly. Licks her lips.{{/GM}}

Good. Good good good. We can handle one sad, lost corp guard. He don't know the Walled City, he's just a little pig stuffed into a ballistic cloth suit.
{{GM}}Song looks back at the gangers around her, smiling.{{/GM}}

C'mon, everybody. We're gonna do this one like we did the last.

I've got first dibs on his gun and his shoes.
Maybe. I'll consider it. But don't come back 'til you do.
{{GM}}Her lip curls, parting in the center.{{/GM}}

Yeah, we're backing down. For now. But you watch your back, $(l.man).
{{GM}}She stares at you for a long moment, and the sneer falls off of her face. Her voice falters.{{/GM}}

Hey, I'm not picking a fight with you. I'm picking a fight with *him.*

{{GM}}She thrusts a finger at the street shaman.{{/GM}}

It's none of your business, all right?
You think I want money? This place is falling apart all around us.

Nuyen ain't worth shit this deep in the wall.
{{CC}}¥1,000{{/CC}} {{GM}}Flash her your credstick.{{/GM}} You sure about that?
{{GM}}Her eyes go wide.{{/GM}}

That's... that's a lotta scratch. And you're gonna give it to us to leave this fool alone?
Yes. And you're also going to go attack that Tsang security guard over there.
{{GM}}Pay her.{{/GM}} That's right. All yours. But you never harass him again, or I'm coming back for you.
{{GM}}She raises her hands.{{/GM}}

Hey, no skin off my back. Consider him left alone.
Walk away, $(l.man). And don't let us see you here again!
{{GM}}Attack the Triad ganger.{{/GM}} I think I'll just put you in the ground instead.
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}} All right. I'm going.
{{GM}}Song looks up with a start, her focus broken. A moment later, the surprise on her face is replaced with an arrogant sneer.{{/GM}}

You're making a big mistake, $(l.man). Lucky for you I'm busy.

You know what's good for you, you'll turn and run, *right now.* Your call.
That's right! Run along now.
Five'll get you ten that we're looking at Bao's replacement.
That's Bao's replacement. Has to be.
{{GM}}She looks at you sternly.{{/GM}}

You get it done?
{{CC}}Charisma: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Medium){{/CC}} {{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} It's taken care of. You can waltz on over there whenever you want.
It's still up, but it'll fire only at the Tsangs.
Not a problem. It's down.
Not yet.
{{GM}}He nods slowly.{{/GM}}

Nice. Very nice. That'll make our job easier.
{{GM}}Song looks back at the gangers around him, smiling.{{/GM}}

C'mon, everybody. We're gonna do this one like we did the last.

I've got first dibs on his gun and his shoes.
Resourceful of you.

Remember, I keep the loot.
Then why are you wasting my time?

{{GM}}He bushes you away.{{/GM}}

Get out of my hair, $(l.man)!
Tsang Business Archive
Details on the shady dealing that the Tsang had when building the walled city. This is the smoking gun that Kindly is looking for.
The crew is silent as you lead your captive to the rooftop rendezvous you designated before the run.

Just as you planned, you find the others waiting there for you.
Lee Tai-lung's artificial features are molded into an expression of aloof intellect and mocking rigidity. The plastic that makes up his face is soft, flexing with the motion of his underlying musculature. Overlapping wafers of silver and bronze foil buried inside the material catch the light as he moves.

It's the work of a master craftsman. Cyberware as a form of modern art, likely commissioned at modern art prices. An ostentatious display of status and wealth.
The Plastic-Faced Man examines the zip ties that bind his wrists with an expression of detached amusement.

Is0bel runs a long cable from her PDA to the jack in the back of his head and nods at you.
Well. This is interesting, I must say.

{{GM}}He chuckles - an odd, hollow sound.{{/GM}}

I don't recall ever having been in this situation before. Usually I simply awaken to find myself in a strange new environment, wondering what happened.
Odd way to live, don't you think?
Not this time, Mr. Lee.
I guess there's a first time for everything, huh?
It's not hard to get used to, really. It's my business, after all.

It protects me and it protects my clients.
You know my name, too. Very impressive.
{{GM}}He surveys your crew with detached indifference.{{/GM}}

Looking at the lot of you, I think it's safe to assume that a violent extraction of information is the next order of business?
Oh, you can bank on that, asshole.

{{GM}}Wu focuses his attention on the Plastic-Faced Man's kneecaps.{{/GM}}
So... you grabbed me at a simsense theater. Target rich environment if you want civilian casualties but my security detail is thinnest at that time...

{{GM}}He considers.{{/GM}}

Clearly, self-preservation is a high priority for you.
So... you chose to grab me in an intimate moment. I suppose that's wise. Only moderate resistance... but the girl paid for it, didn't she?

{{GM}}He considers.{{/GM}}

Clearly, the preservation of metahuman life isn't a high priority for you.
So... you chose to take me in an empty parking garage surrounded by corporate security.

{{GM}}He considers.{{/GM}}

Low chance for civilian casualties... clearly, the safety of innocents is a priority for you.
$(l.name). We have a problem.

{{GM}}Is0bel stares down at her PDA.{{/GM}}

Dreamland's neural inhibitor software isn't interacting with this guy's cortical implant the same way it worked with her own. It's only going to *slow* the memory wipe process.
Anything you can do?
How long do I have?
We've come too far to lose this now. Do something about it.
To stop it? Nothing. This is way beyond me. We're talking about software I didn't write interacting with two different pieces of headware I've never seen before. We're lucky this works at all.

{{GM}}She begins a flurry of two-handed thumb-taps on her PDA.{{/GM}}

I'll try and key in some buffering routines or something to slow it as much as I can, but my confidence is low.
I don't know. We're talking about software I didn't write interacting with two different pieces of headware I've never seen before. We're lucky this works at all.

{{GM}}She begins a flurry of two-handed thumb-taps on her PDA.{{/GM}}

I'll try and key in some buffering routines or something to slow it as much as I can, but my confidence is low.
I would if I could but we're talking about software I didn't write interacting with two different pieces of headware I've never seen before. We're lucky this works at all.

{{GM}}She begins a flurry of two-handed thumb-taps on her PDA.{{/GM}}

I'll try and key in some buffering routines or something to slow it as much as I can, but my confidence is low.
{{GM}}Is0bel shakes her head at the PDA, her face pinched in frustration.{{/GM}}

This guy's memory is going to get wiped one way or another.

I'd start asking questions, $(l.name).
Tense. Verrry tense.

{{GM}}The silky plastic of his face slides into a smooth smile.{{/GM}}

I guess I'll answer your questions... rather... slowly.
I don't have time for bullshit. You're a professional. You know what's next. Just give us what we want.
{{GM}}Break one of his fingers.{{/GM}}
I wonder what's under that mask of yours?
Racter smiles and Koschei's servos whir, as if in anticipation.
I was joking. Of course I'm going to give you what you want.

My clients know I'm a professional and that I take extraordinary precautions to protect their secrets. If those precautions were compromised, it was due to an extreme circumstance.
Lee's finger breaks with a loud snap. His face remains rigid and expressionless, though his body tenses and his breathing hitches for a moment. Beyond that, he makes no sound.
That was extreme.
{{GM}}The Plastic-Faced Man's voice remains calm, removed.{{/GM}}

There was no need for that. I was joking.

Of course I'm going to give you what you want. Although this can be a dangerous profession, I have no intention of absorbing pain for a client if it can be avoided.
I was just wondering the same thing.

{{GM}}Koschei's servos whir, as if in anticipation.{{/GM}}
Don't bother looking - neither of us will enjoy it. I guarantee.

Besides, I was joking. We don't need to step through a process.

My clients know I'm a professional and that I take extraordinary precautions to protect their secrets. If those precautions were compromised, it was due to an extreme circumstance.
{{GM}}His chin lifts a bit and his tone becomes even more matter-of-fact.{{/GM}}

You ask your questions... $(l.name). I'll answer them as efficiently as I can.

When we're done, I'll shake hands with a stranger and walk away wondering what just happened.
What is Prosperity?
Why is Josephine Tsang trying to kill us?
Just a professional problem solver who's very very good at his job.

{{GM}}Disappointment sinks into his voice.{{/GM}}

Now, don't waste your time on me. There are bigger questions to answer, don't you think?
I'll decide what's important. Who are you?
You're right. Why is Josephine Tsang trying to kill us?
Fine. What is Prosperity?
{{GM}}He shakes his head slowly.{{/GM}}

My name is Lee Tai-lung. I was born in 2016 in a suburb of Changde - that's in the Hunan Province of old China. My parents were killed in a food riot around 2021. Or maybe it was 2022...
{{GM}}Is0bel makes a grunting noise. She doesn't sound happy.{{/GM}}

I'm... trying to spoof his headware... to make it think...

{{GM}}She exhales loudly.{{/GM}}

Nevermind. It didn't work. The bootup sequence is starting.
Time is the fire in which we burn. Time is the school in which we learn.

Good poem, you should learn it.
Shall we talk about something else? Something more salient?
No. I want to know more about you.
I don't advise it.
C'mon, $(l.name). We're running out of time. Forget this fool.
Fine. Why is Josephine Tsang trying to kill us?
Okay, what is Prosperity?
Prosperity Tower is Tsang Mechanical Engineering's corporate headquarters. *Prosperity* is also one of Josephine Tsang's pet projects.

Which one do you want to know about first?

{{GM}}His voice gets a sing-song tone.{{/GM}}

Tick-tock.
Tell us everything you know about Prosperity Tower.
I want to hear about the Prosperity project.
I'll tell you what - in the interest of time, I'm going to make you a little gift.
The Plastic-Faced Man's eyes roll back in his head and a moment later, a twitter emits from Is0bel's PDA.
A two terabyte file just downloaded onto my PDA.
That's everything I've got on Prosperity Tower - guard stations, jack-points, security protocols...

{{GM}}The makeshift streetlight gleams on his plastic face, reflecting you like a funhouse mirror.{{/GM}}
This is where you say, "Thank You."
I still want to hear about the Prosperity project.
You're welcome.
Now as to the Prosperity *project,* you're going to have a problem gathering much information.

You see, the Prosperity project is Jo Tsang's best kept secret. And the best way to *keep* secrets is to not tell anyone - even someone who's memory can be wiped.

All I know is that Prosperity is something built deep inside Kowloon Walled City. Some kind of experiment that her son was working on.
Of course you do.
Now the Prosperity *project* is something altogether different. That's Jo Tsang's best kept secret.

And the best way to *keep* secrets is to not tell anyone - even someone who's memory can be wiped.

All I know is that Prosperity is something that was built deep inside Kowloon Walled City years ago. Some kind of experiment her son was working on.
Well, that's going to be challenging.

You see, the Prosperity project is Jo Tsang's best kept secret. And the best way to *keep* secrets is to not tell anyone - even someone who's memory can be wiped.

All I know is that Prosperity is something built deep inside Kowloon Walled City. Some kind of experiment that her son was working on.
Edward Tsang. No wait... Raymond Black. My *father.*

{{GM}}Wu stands up tall, takes that amused tone he gets when someone's about to get hurt.{{/GM}}

Heyyy, Mr. Plastic... maybe you could settle a bet between me and my brother.
{{GM}}Wu puts his face close to Lee's, his breath fogging the while plastic.{{/GM}}

Now *I* think Raymond is still alive but my *brother* here isn't so sure.
Edward Tsang. No wait... Raymond Black. My *father.*

{{GM}}Wu stands up tall, takes that amused tone he gets when someone's about to get hurt.{{/GM}}

Heyyy, Mr. Plastic... maybe you could settle a bet between me and my sister.
{{GM}}Wu puts his face close to Lee's. His breath fogs the plastic.{{/GM}}

Now *I* think Raymond is still alive but my *sister* here isn't so sure.
{{GM}}Wu's voice drops to a stage whisper.{{/GM}}

Which is it, buddy? Raymond Black - dead or Alive?

I got twenty nuyen on this.
Guys, a status bar just popped up. It isn't moving yet but you never know when it might take a jump.

{{GM}}The little decker watches her screen for a moment.{{/GM}}

It's stuck at zero right now, but the process is starting and there's nothing I can do to stop it.
Here. Give me that.

{{GM}}Lee reaches out a perfectly manicured hand to Is0bel.{{/GM}}

I'll show you something.
Is0bel pulls away on instinct and looks at you.
This is a calculated gamble. You're running out of time and holding all the guns. I have information you want and betting that if I share it with you, you won't kill me when this is over.
Sorry buddy. I don't trust you.
Go on, Izz. Let him have it.
I can respect that. We'll go hands-free. It'll take a little longer but I believe in show-don't-tell.

{{GM}}His eyes become unfocused and he remains frozen nearly a full minute.{{/GM}}

There.
The Plastic-Faced Man takes the PDA from Is0bel and stares down at the screen. His eyes become unfocused and he stands like a statue.
A low-resolution video recording pops onto the screen. A small weathered man, possibly in his seventies, is strapped into a high-tech chair and connected to an elaborate scientific instrument behind him.

The recording is from the first-person perspective, presumably the Plastic-Faced Man's.
This is from when I first brought the asset... your father... to Prosperity Tower.

{{GM}}His eyes remain unfocused. Still as a statue.{{/GM}}

After I took him from the teahouse on the docks.
The video continues and a confident voice can be heard from off-screen - a woman's. You can't make out what she says. The point-of-view turns to the right and a graceful woman of indeterminate age steps into view.
She is clearly advanced in years but access to a nourishing diet and cutting-edge pharmaceuticals afford her the vitality of someone much younger. She speaks directly to the camera.

Her tone is hard.
I warned you to be gentle with him, Mr. Lee.

{{GM}}She looks over at the old man with genuine concern.{{/GM}}

He looks as if someone tased him.
{{GM}}The voice of the Plastic-Faced Man replies.{{/GM}}

I assure you, Mrs. Tsang, I was gentle. He walked out of the teahouse under his own power.
{{GM}}The old man speaks, his voice weary and hoarse.{{/GM}}

May I have some water, Mother? My throat feels like it's on fire.
{{GM}}She responds tenderly.{{/GM}}

Yes, of course Edward. I'll have someone bring you some ice chips.
{{GM}}The Plastic-Faced Man speaks again, his voice lowered.{{/GM}}

Your son has apparently been through some sort of ordeal. He appeared demented at times. And he's been mumbling about stopping something. Prosperity, I think.
Yes, well that won't be happening.

{{GM}}The woman addresses her son, speaking a bit too loudly, as if he is hard of hearing.{{/GM}}

We won't be stopping Prosperity, Edward. I want you to get that out of your mind. Do you understand?
I understand perfectly well, Mother. There's no need to shout.

But I won't give up. Prosperity must be stopped. All those poor people...
{{GM}}The woman's frowns and shakes her head.{{/GM}}

I know, Edward, I know. Those poor people. I've done a lot of good to make up for it since you left - shelters, hospitals, all sorts of good work.

And now it's time to do something for *you.* Something I should have done a long time ago, perhaps.
From the left side of the screen, a man enters in a white lab coat. The woman looks up and nods and the lab-coated man places a chrome apparatus on the old man's head.
{{GM}}Raymond speaks dreamily, as if a drug has started its work.{{/GM}}

What is this, Momma? What are you doing to me?
I'm fixing you, Edward.

{{GM}}She walks up close to the old man. Strokes his head tenderly. Leans forward to kiss it.{{/GM}}

All you can see is failure. You're incapable of seeing the good in what you've done.
The man in the white lab coat presses a button on Raymond's chair and a robotic arm swings into view. A cobalt blue light springs from its tip and the arm quickly circumnavigates the old man's head, bathing it in oscillating blue. A high-definition three-dimensional image of Raymond's brain appears on the wall behind.
I've been inspired by Mr. Lee here.

{{GM}}The woman turns and looks at the camera.{{/GM}}

We're going to do some editing of your memories. To relieve you of your burden.
{{GM}}Raymond mumbles dreamily, desperately fighting to get the words out.{{/GM}}

No, Momma, wait. I've figured out what to do...
And then he is asleep.
{{GM}}The woman moves closer to the camera.{{/GM}}

Your payment will be made according to our agreement.

{{GM}}She turns away, her voice cold.{{/GM}}

Once the rest of them are dead.
The video ends and the Plastic-Faced Man exhales slowly.
I've taken a big risk showing you that.
I don't give a rat's ass.

{{GM}}Wu turns to you.{{/GM}}

You see? I knew it! I told you, $(l.name), Raymond's alive! Tsang's holding him at Prosperity Tower.
He may be alive, but he isn't safe. It sounds like his mother's trying to erase part of his memory, like Johnny Plastic here.
He may be alive, but it looks like his mom's gonna erase part of his memory. Just like Johnny Plastic here... she's gonna try to *fix* him.
What kind of mother would do that?

{{GM}}Something catches her eye and she looks down suddenly.{{/GM}}
She believes you're here to destroy one of her special projects.
Why does she think that?
Prosperity?
Because that's why her son came back to Hong Kong.
Edward Tsang. No wait... Raymond Black.

My *father.*

{{GM}}Wu stands up tall, takes that amused tone he gets when someone's about to get hurt.{{/GM}}

Heyyy, Mr. Plastic... maybe you could settle a bet between me and my brother.
{{GM}}Wu puts his face close to Lee's. His breath fogs the plastic.{{/GM}}

Now *I* think Raymond is still alive but my *brother* here isn't so sure.
Edward Tsang. No wait... Raymond Black.

My *father.*

{{GM}}Wu stands up tall, takes that amused tone he gets when someone's about to get hurt.{{/GM}}

Heyyy, Mr. Plastic... maybe you could settle a bet between me and my sister.
{{GM}}Wu's voice drops to a stage whisper.{{/GM}}

Which is it, buddy? Raymond Black - dead or alive?

I got twenty nuyen on this.
Guys, a status bar just popped up. It isn't moving yet but you never know when it might take a jump.

{{GM}}The little decker watches her screen for a moment.{{/GM}}

It's stuck at zero right now, but the process is starting and there's nothing I can do to stop it.
Raymond Black is alive. I didn't kill your father.
How do we know he isn't lying?
I'm hoping that by giving you everything you want, you'll leave me alive when this is all over.

{{GM}}Lee reaches out his ziptied hands to Is0bel. He's perfectly manicured.{{/GM}}

Here. Give me that, PDA. I'll show you something.
You're running out of time and holding all the guns. I have information you want and I'm giving it to you willingly.
A low-resolution video recording pops onto the screen. A small weathered man, easily in his seventies, is strapped into a high-tech chair and connected to an elaborate scientific instrument behind him.

The recording is from the first-person perspective, presumably the Plastic-Faced Man's.
This is from when I first brought... your father... to Josephine Tsang.

{{GM}}His eyes remain unfocused. Still as a statue.{{/GM}}

After I took him from the teahouse on the docks.
The video continues and a voice can be heard from off-screen - a woman's. Her voice is muted and you can't make out what she says, but her tone is unambiguous - strong, confident, and mature.

In contrast, the man's voice is gravelly, weary. His head lolls to the side.
May I have some water, Mother? My throat feels like it's on fire.
The point-of-view turns to the right and a graceful woman of indeterminate age steps into view. She is clearly advanced in years but access to a nourishing diet and cutting-edge pharmaceuticals give her the vitality of someone much younger.
Yes, of course Edward. I'll have someone bring you some ice chips.

{{GM}}There is genuine concern in her voice. She turns to the camera and her tone hardens.{{/GM}}

I warned you to be gentle with him.
I assure you, I was gentle. He's apparently been through some sort of ordeal. Appeared demented at times. He's been mumbling about stopping prosperity.
Yes, well that won't be happening.

{{GM}}The woman turns back to her son, who appears older than she. She speaks a bit too loudly, as if he is hard of hearing.{{/GM}}

We won't be stopping prosperity, Edward. I want you to get that out of your mind. Do you understand?
She walks up close to the old man, strokes his head tenderly, leans forward to kiss it. As she does, from the left side of the screen, a man enters in a white lab coat. The woman looks up and nods and the lab-coated man places a chrome apparatus on the old man's head.
{{GM}}He speaks dreamily as if a drug has started its work.{{/GM}}

What is this, Momma? What are you doing to me?
Looked to me like his mother was going to try and rewire his brain or something. To *fix* him.
What kind of a mother would *do* that?
The bad kind.

{{GM}}Wu turns to you.{{/GM}}

You see? I knew it! I told you, $(l.name), Raymond's alive!
What is prosperity?
Prosperity Tower - Tsang Mechanical Engineering's corporate headquarters.
That's prosperity? Josephine Tsang's office building?
Not exactly. Prosperity *Tower* is Tsang Mechanical Engineering's corporate headquarters. *Prosperity* is also the secret project her son Edward was working on.

Which one do you want to know about first?

{{GM}}His voice takes a sing-song tone.{{/GM}}

Tick-tock.
I want everything you know about Prosperity Tower.
Well, that's going to be challenging.

You see, the Prosperity project is Jo Tsang's best kept secret. And the best way to *keep* secrets is to not tell anyone - even someone who's memory can be wiped.

All I know is that Prosperity is something built deep inside Kowloon Walled City. Some kind of experiment that her son Edward was working on.
And now his mother is trying to rewire his brain or something. To *fix* her son.

{{GM}}Something catches her eye and she looks down suddenly.{{/GM}}
Shit, shit, shit!

{{GM}}Is0bel thumbs her PDA furiously but it's no use.{{/GM}}

That's it. He's wiping.

{{GM}}She pulls the cable from her PDA and drops it to the ground in aggravation.{{/GM}}
Oh, hello.

{{GM}}The Plastic-Faced Man looks down at his zip tied hands and then slowly surveys his surroundings.{{/GM}}

Well... isn't *this* awkward.
What do you want to do with this guy? He's got no memory so it's probably safe to let him go, but Auntie said he should take a dirt nap.

{{GM}}Wu raises his rifle.{{/GM}}

All the same to me.
Clock's ticking.
Gimme what know about Prosperity Tower, fast!
That's everything I've got on Prosperity Tower - guard stations, jack-points, security protocols...

{{GM}}The streetlight gleams on his plastic face, reflecting you like a funhouse mirror.{{/GM}}
Screw you.
Prosperity Tower is Tsang Mechanical Engineering's corporate headquarters. It's where Josephine is holding your father. Prosperity is *also* the secret project Edward was working on.

Which one do you want to know about first?

{{GM}}His voice takes a sing-song tone.{{/GM}}

Tick-tock.
Oh, hello.

{{GM}}The Plastic-Faced Man looks down at his zip tied hands and then slowly surveys his surroundings.{{/GM}}

Well, isn't *this* awkward.
End him. What Auntie wants, Auntie gets.
Let him go. I think we're safe.
But he gave us everything we asked for and more.
He's seen our faces.
But I have nothing to connect them with.

If it's all the same with you, I'd prefer to just walk away.
Yeah, you're right. Cut the cuffs.
No loose ends. End him, Gun Show.
My pleasure.
I do appreciate it... whoever you are.

{{GM}}The Plastic-Faced Man gives you a little bow and leaves without another word.{{/GM}}
What are you going to tell Kindly? She said to kill him.
I'll tell her the truth.
I'll make something up.
I don't know yet.
Yes. Although technically, there's more than one prosperity.
Racing Fulmination
Melee: A Chinese sword imbued with shamanic magic. When an enemy is killed with this sword, the wielder gains +1 AP on their next turn. May do AP DMG on a critical hit.
Is0bel's Gear
The sun dips below the horizon. Mist coalesces, coating the rooftop in dew.

Ku Feng and her cohorts appear.
Are you prepared to become my servant, $(l.race)? You must not resist, or I'll be forced to kill you. Should it come to that, I'll endeavor to make it swift and painless... but no promises.
Not gonna happen.
Let's see what you've got.
I'm ready if you are.
This will be entertaining. Kill $(l.him)!
You step from the churning of the water taxi to the ponderous rocking of the docks, your stomach lurching at the transition.

As soon as you're clear, the captain nods once and steers the small craft back into the harbor. The man never said a word. Just handed you a worn brown duffel bag when you stepped on board filled with gear, some stiff new body armor, and a note: "Better safe than sorry. - D."		 Vous descendez du bateau-bus remuant pour rejoindre le bercement lourd des quais, votre estomac vacillant lors de la transition.

Dès vos esprits retrouvés, le capitaine hoche la tête et ramène l'embarcation vers le port. Cet homme n'a pas décroché un mot. Il vous a juste remis un vieu sac polochon brun usé lorsque vous êtes monté à bord, rempli avec de l'équipement, une nouvelle armure corporelle rigide, et une note: "Mieux vaut prévenir que guérir. - D."
Above, smog-thick clouds hang low in the sky, reflecting the lights of the city in a nauseating swirl. The wind changes direction more than once, creating a heady stew of aromas: diesel, sea salt, street food, and filth.

It's all you can do to keep your in-flight meal where it belongs.		 Au dessus de vous, les nuages de smog épais flottent bas dans le ciel, reflétant les lumières de la ville dans un tourbillon nauséabond. Le vent change de direction plus d'une fois, entrainant un mélange d'arômes capiteux: diesel, sel de mer, bouffe de rue, et immondices.


Vous faites tout ce qu'il est possible pour garder votre repas là où il se trouve.
Two figures stand waiting in the dim light of the pier. The first is an ork, lean, with in-your-face muscles and a jaw made to break fists. The second is an elf, one hand resting casually against her hip.

Raymond Black is nowhere to be seen.		 Deux silhouettes patientent dans la pénombre de la jetée. La première est un ork, maigre, avec des muscles saillants et une mâchoire faite pour briser des poings. La seconde est une elfe, une main posée nonchalamment contre sa hanche.

Raymond Black n'est visible nulle part.
Well, don't *you* look like shit.

{{GM}}Duncan Wu. The closest thing you have to a brother. You haven't seen the man in eight years. Still as charming as ever.{{/GM}}		 Eh bien, *tu* ressembles à une merde.

{{GM}}Duncan Wu. La chose la plus proche d'un frère pour vous. Vous n'avez pas vu ce type depuis huit ans. Toujours aussi charmant{{/GM}}
{{GM}}He grins.{{/GM}}

Green's not really your color, $(l.firstname). Doesn't go with that nice new armor I got you.

{{GM}}As you open your mouth to respond, something shifts alarmingly in your stomach. A liquid, bubbling sensation.{{/GM}}		 {{GM}}Il sourit.{{/GM}}

Le vert ne te va pas, $(l.firstname). Il jure avec cette belle armure que je t'ai donné.

{{GM}}Alors que vous ouvrez la bouche pour répondre, quelque chose se déplace de façon alarmante dans votre estomac. Une sensation de liquide bouillonnant.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Body: 3{{/CC}} {{GM}}Tough it out.{{/GM}} Don't know what you're talking about. Must be the harbor lights messing with you. {{CC}}Body: 3{{/CC}} {{GM}}Tenir bon.{{/GM}} Je ne vois pas de quoi tu parles. Ca doit être les lumières du port qui te font cet effet la.
Nice to see -- Content de voir --
Look, I -- Ecoute, je --
At least I'm not -- Au moins, je ne suis pas --
Must be. Guess you've still got some of your old fortitude, at least.

{{GM}}He laughs.{{/GM}}

Considering how much synthohol we used to put down... I'd be surprised if you couldn't handle a little chop. 		Ca doit être ça. Je suppose qu'il te reste un peu de ton ancienne détermination, au moins.

{{GM}}Il rit.{{/GM}}

Considérant la tonne de synthohol que nous utilisions pour nous saouler... Je serai surpris que tu ne puisses pas gérer à un petit mal de mer.
Anyway. We gotta go find Raymond. Quoi qu'il en soit. Nous devons retrouver Raymond.
Find Raymond? I thought he'd be here. Retrouver Raymond? Je pensais qu'il serait là.
Where's the old man? Ou est le vieil homme?
Your stomach lurches again as another wave crashes against the pier. The taste of bile fills your mouth. Votre estomac vacille de nouveau alors qu'une autre vague s'écrase contre la jetée. Le gout de la bile emplie votre bouche.
Listen, if you're gonna hurl, get it over with now. We gotta go find Raymond. Ecoute, si tu dois gerber, fais le maintenant. Nous devons retrouver Raymond.
Stand still. You make a great target.
Never showed up.

{{GM}}He's still got that same baritone rasp. Had it since he was twelve - Wu developed early.{{/GM}}		 Jamais venue.

{{GM}}Il a toujours la même voix de baryton. Celle qu'il a depuis ses douze ans - Wu s'est développé rapidement.{{/GM}}
Did you try him on comm? Tu as essayé de le joindre par comm?
No clue where he might be? Aucune idée de où il pourrait être?
When was the last time you saw him? Ca remonte à quand la dernière fois que tu l'as vu?
No sense standing around, then. Where's the meeting place? Aucun intérêt de trainer ici, alors. Ou est le lieu de rencontre?
Nah. Just been walking around the docks shouting his name.

{{GM}}He says it as a joke, but there's a note of concern in his voice.{{/GM}}

I've been trying him for the last hour. No answer. 		Nan. Je me suis juste baladé sur les quais en hurlant son nom.

{{GM}}Il dit ça sur le ton de l'humour, mais l'inquiétude perce dans sa voix.{{/GM}}

J'essaye de le contacter depuis une heure. Aucune réponse.
You worried? Tu es inquiet?
You should have waited there and called me. Tu aurais du attendre ici et m'appeler.
What do you want to do now? Que veux tu faire maintenant?
You seem kinda tense. You eating enough fiber? Tu sembles assez tendu. Tu manges assez de fibres?
Yeah, I'm worried.

{{GM}}Wu rubs his head.{{/GM}}

He's an old man, and he's out there alone somewhere.		 Ouais, je suis inquiet.

{{GM}}Wu se frotte la tête.{{/GM}}

C'est un vieil homme, et il est là dehors, quelque part, seul.
Ray's a smart guy. He can take care of himself. Ray est un type intelligent. Il sait prendre soin de lui.
Sixty-five isn't that old, Duncan. Soixante-cinq ans c'est pas si vieux, Duncan.
Okay, now I'm worried. Bon, maintenant je suis inquiet.
Of course not, but... Bien sur que non, mais...
I'm not sure you do. Je ne suis pas sûr de ça.
I think you should be. Je pense que tu peux l'être.
{{GM}}Wu stares at you, his goggles reflecting the harbor lights.{{/GM}}

I don't have your commlink code, $(l.firstname).

Remember? It's been a while.		 {{GM}}Wu vous regarde, ses lunettes reflétant les lumières du port.{{/GM}}

Je n'ai pas ton numéro de commlink, $(l.firstname).

Tu te souviens? Ca fait un bail.
I'm not sure.

{{GM}}Wu rubs his head.{{/GM}}

He's an old man, and he's out there alone somewhere.		 Je ne sais pas trop.

{{GM}}Wu se frotte la tête.{{/GM}}

C'est un vieil homme, et il est seul, dehors, quelque part.
My colon's fine, thanks.

{{GM}}Wu rubs his head.{{/GM}}

He's an old man, and he's out there alone somewhere.		 Mon colon va très bien, merci.

{{GM}}Wu se frotte la tête.{{/GM}}

C'est un vieil homme, et il est dehors, quelque part, seul.
No.

{{GM}}Wu rubs his head.{{/GM}}

But I just checked in with the local PD and morgue. If he's dead, his body hasn't turned up yet. That's a good sign, I guess.		 Non.

{{GM}}Wu se gratte la tête.{{/GM}}

Mais je viens de vérifier avec les autorités locales et les morgues. S'il est mort, son corps n'a pas encore été retrouvé. C'est un bon point, je suppose.
A few weeks ago. Before I got his message telling us to meet him here. I'd been working a lot, so I hadn't been by the house in a while. Il y a quelques semaines. Avant qu'il ne nous envoi son message nous demandant de nous retrouver ici. J'ai beaucoup travaillé, alors je ne suis pas passé à la maison depuis un moment.
How was he? Comment était il?
Any idea what's going on? Aucune idée de ce qu'il se passe?
House still the same? Is Mrs. Malony still cleaning up a trail of pipe tobacco in his wake? La maison a changé? C'est toujours Mlle Malony qui nettoie les trainées de tabac de pipe dans son sillage?
{{GM}}The ork bows his head. His voice sounds far away.{{/GM}}

He's not the same, $(l.firstname). Raymond hasn't been himself in a long time. 		{{GM}}L'ork incline sa tête. Sa voix semble lointaine.{{/GM}}

Il n'était plus lui même, $(l.firstname). Raymond n'était plus lui même depuis longtemps.
The Raymond that I remember was a bit distant to begin with. Le Raymond dont je me souviens a toujours été un peu distant de base.
He's been restless. Staying in his study, inside his own head a lot. And he barely sleeps anymore.

I've been worried about him, but I haven't figured out what to do about it.		 Il était agité. Cloitré dans son bureau, perdu dans ses pensées. Et il ne dormait quasiment plus.

J'étais inquiet pour lui, mais je ne savais pas quoi faire à son sujet.
{{GM}}He looks up at you and shrugs.{{/GM}}

And I didn't have a sister to turn to. Hell - wasn't too sure you were even alive still, until Raymond managed to track down your number.		 {{GM}}Il lève les yeux vers vous et hausse les épaules.{{/GM}}

Et je n'avais pas de sœur vers qui me tourner. Merde - je n'étais pas sûr que tu étais toujours en vie, avant que Raymond ne réussisse à retrouver ton numéro.
{{GM}}He looks up at you and shrugs.{{/GM}}

And I didn't have a brother to turn to. Hell - wasn't too sure you were even alive still, until Raymond managed to track down your number.		 {{GM}}Il lève les yeux vers vous et hausse les épaules.{{/GM}}

Et je n'avais pas de frère vers qui me tourner. Merde - je n'étais pas sûr que tu étais toujours en vie, avant que Raymond ne réussisse à retrouver ton numéro.
This is different. He's been restless. Staying in his study, inside his own head a lot. And he barely sleeps anymore.

I've been worried about him, but I haven't figured out what to do about it.		 C'est différent. Il était agité. Cloitré dans sono bureau, perdu dans ses pensées. Et il ne dormait quasiment plus.

J'étais inquiet pour lui, mais je ne savais pas quoi faire à son sujet.
{{GM}}The ork bows his head. His voice sounds far away.{{/GM}}

No clue. All I know is that Raymond hasn't been himself in a long time. 		{{GM}}L'ork incline sa tête. Sa voix semble lointaine.{{/GM}}

Aucune idée. Tout ce que je sais c'est que Raymond n'était plus lui même depuis un certain temps.
{{GM}}The ork bows his head.{{/GM}}

Mrs. Malony's dead, $(l.firstname). Three years ago. Bad ticker.

He couldn't hire another housekeeper after that. He kinda creeped them out.		 {{GM}}L'ork incline la tête.{{/GM}}

Mlle Malony est morte, $(l.firstname). Il y a trois ans. Problèmes cardiaque.

Il ne pouvait pas embaucher une autre femme de ménage après çà. Il était trop étrange pour elles.
Creeped them out? Trop étrange pour elles?
But he's just a little old man. Mais il n'était qu'un petit vieux.
{{GM}}His voice sounds far away.{{/GM}}

Raymond hasn't been himself in a long time. 		{{GM}}Sa voix se fait lointaine.{{/GM}}

Raymond n'était plus lui même depuis un certain temps.
{{GM}}The ork bows his head. His voice sounds far away.{{/GM}}

I know. But Raymond hasn't been himself in a long time. 		{{GM}}L'ork incline la tête. Sa voix se faisant lointaine.{{/GM}}

Je sais. Mais Raymond n'était plus lui même depuis un certain temps.
Not far. Just on the other side of the pier here.

{{GM}}He jabs a thumb behind him.{{/GM}}		 Pas loin. Juste de l'autre coté de la jetée.

{{GM}}Il lève le pouce derrière lui.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The woman standing beside him breaks in.{{/GM}}

We should get going, Duncan. Head back to the meeting point in case your dad shows up.		 {{GM}}La femme à ses cotés l'interrompt.{{/GM}}

Nous devrions y aller, Duncan. Retournons au lieu de rencontre au cas où votre père s'y montrerait.
Copy that, sarge.

{{GM}}They're wearing Lone Star body armor. Looks like Duncan Wu's gone private police.{{/GM}}		 Bien reçu, Sergent.

{{GM}}Ils portent une armure corporelle de la Lone Star. On dirait que Duncan Wu a rejoint la police privée.{{/GM}}
Sarge? Sergent?
You his girlfriend or something? Tu es sa petite amie ou un truc du genre?
You his partner? Tu es sa coéquipière?
{{GM}}The woman taps her chest with an armored finger.{{/GM}}

Carter, Seattle Lone Star. I'm Duncan's partner.		 {{GM}}La femme indique sa poitrine de son doigt blindé.{{/GM}}

Carter, Lone Star de Seattle. Je suis la coéquipière de Duncan.
And superior officer.

{{GM}}She grins.{{/GM}}

I let him carry my coffee for me sometimes... write my parking tickets... that kinda thing.		 Et son officier supérieur.

{{GM}}Elle sourit.{{/GM}}

Je le laisse porter mon café parfois... gérer mes tickets de parking... ce genre de choses.
Oh, hell no.

{{GM}}The corner of her mouth flicks upward in amusement.{{/GM}}

I'm his partner. 		Oh, mon dieu non.

{{GM}}Le coin de sa bouche se relève en signe d'amusement.{{/GM}}

Je suis sa coéquipière.
Unfortunately, yes - although partner's not the right word for it, exactly. I like "superior officer" better.

{{GM}}She grins.{{/GM}}

I let him carry my coffee for me... write my parking tickets... that kinda thing.		 Malheureusement, oui - bien que coéquipière ne soit pas le bon terme. Je préfère "officier supérieur".

{{GM}}Elle sourit.{{/GM}}

Je le laisse porter mon café parfois... gérer mes tickets de parking... ce genre de choses.
{{GM}}The woman taps her chest with an armored finger.{{/GM}}

Carter.		 {{GM}}La femme indique sa poitrine de son doigt blindé.{{/GM}}

Carter.
I figured I could use some backup. Didn't know what Ray'd gotten himself into, and I wasn't sure you were gonna show up.

{{GM}}It's a tossed-off remark, but there's an undercurrent of resentment in it.{{/GM}}		 J'ai pensé que je pourrais avoir besoin de renfort. Je ne savais pas trop dans quoi Ray trempait, et je n'étais pas sûr que tu serais là.

{{GM}}C'est une simple remarque, mais il y a un fond de ressentiment en elle.{{/GM}}
You got something you want to say? Tu as quelque chose à dire?
Well, surprise. Here I am. Eh bien, surprise. Je suis là.
Of course I showed up. Bien sur que je suis venu.
Nope.

{{GM}}He shakes his head.{{/GM}}

Hey, look, I'm glad you're here, $(l.firstname). Seriously. But I'm gonna need some time to get used to having you around again.

Been a while since I heard from you, know what I mean?		 Nan.

{{GM}}Il secoue la tête.{{/GM}}

Hé, écoute, je suis content que tu sois revenu, $(l.firstname). Sérieusement. Mais je vais avoir besoin d'un peu de temps pour me faire à l'idée que tu es de retour.

Ca fait un moment qu'on ne s'est pas vu, tu vois ce que je veux dire?
Yeah, well, I wasn't so sure, y'know?

{{GM}}He shakes his head.{{/GM}}

Hey, look, I'm glad you're here, $(l.firstname). Seriously. But I'm gonna need some time to get used to having you around again.

Been a while since I heard from you, know what I mean?		 Ouais, eh bien, j'en étais pas si certain, tu vois?

{{GM}}Il secoue la tête.{{/GM}}

Hé, écoute, je suis content que tu sois revenu, $(l.firstname). Sérieusement. Mais je vais avoir besoin d'un peu de temps pour me faire à l'idée que tu es de retour.

Ca fait un moment qu'on ne s'est pas vu, tu vois ce que je veux dire?
Memories of sleepless nights in lock-up flash by. Wondering if you’d ever see Duncan or Raymond again.

Wondering if you even wanted to.		 Le souvenir de nuits blanches en huis clos vous reviennent par flash. Vous vous demandiez si vous n'auriez jamais revu Duncan ou Raymond à nouveau.

Vous demandant même si vous le vouliez vraiment.
And then, stepping out into the daylight. Suddenly free, the fallout of some obscure corporate restructuring. A few hundred nuyen worth of apology from your former jailors, and a decision to start a new life. To leave the past behind... all of it.

Until now.		 Et puis, sortant dans la lumière du jour. Soudainement libre de certaines retombées d'obscure restructurations d'entreprises. Une centaine de nuyens en guise d'excuses de la part de vos anciens geôliers, et la décision de commencer une nouvelle vie. Pour laisser le passé derrière...

Jusqu'à maintenant.
I know I've been out of touch. Je sais que j'étais injoignable.
Yeah. We'll talk about it later, okay? Ouais. On en parlera plus tard, okay?
I had my reasons. Can we leave it at that for now? J'avais mes raisons. On peut laisser ça de coté pour le moment?
{{GM}}Wu stares at you, his goggles reflecting the harbor lights.{{/GM}}

You could say that, yeah.		 {{GM}}Wu vous regarde, ses lunettes reflétant les lumières du port..{{/GM}}

On peut dire ça, ouais.
{{GM}}Wu stares at you, his goggles reflecting the harbor lights.{{/GM}}

Yeah. Okay. 		{{GM}}Wu vous regarde, ses lunettes reflétant les lumières du port..{{/GM}}

Ouais. Okay.
{{GM}}Wu stares at you, his goggles reflecting the harbor lights.{{/GM}}

Sure.		 {{GM}}Wu vous regarde, ses lunettes reflétant les lumières du port..{{/GM}}

Bien sur.
{{GM}}He scans the waterfront, frowning.{{/GM}}

Let's just find Raymond. He was supposed to meet us in the plaza on the other side of this pier.		 {{GM}}Il fixe le front de mer, les sourcils froncés.{{/GM}}

Retrouvons juste Raymond. Il était supposé nous retrouver sur la place de l'autre coté de cette jetée.
The sooner we find him, the sooner you all can have a big happy family reunion over dinner.

{{GM}}Carter grins.{{/GM}}

And the sooner I can find a place to get a drink around here.		 Plus tôt nous le trouverons, plus tôt vous pourrez tous avoir une grande réunion de famille heureuse au cours d'un diner.

{{GM}}Carter sourit.{{/GM}}

Et plus tôt je pourrais trouver un endroit pour boire un verre dans le coin.
Ahead of you, Hong Kong rises serpent-like from the sea - government and megacorp coiled together, writhing in their basket of institutionalized corruption. No one can tell where the snake’s body ends and its tail begins - that's what Raymond used to say.

Duncan turns, and starts down the pier. Carter follows.		 Devant vous, Hong Kong se dresse comme un serpent de mer - le gouvernement et les megacorpo enroulés ensemble, se tordant dans le panier de la corruption institutionnalisée. Personne ne peut dire où le corps du serpent se termine et où sa queue commence - c'est ce que Raymond aimait dire.

Duncan se tourne et commence à descendre la jetée. Carter suit.
I'll find you some ginger ale or something after we figure out where he is.

{{GM}}He's still got that same baritone rasp. Had it since he was twelve - Wu developed early.{{/GM}}
He never showed up, $(l.firstname). It's not like him.
I'll pass.

{{GM}}He's still got that same baritone rasp. Had it since he was twelve - Wu developed early.{{/GM}}
The terminal is powered off.
This is the one. Flip the switch on the bottom right, then plug in my datachip. The script will doctor the security logs so we can sneak you out.
{{GM}}Turn on the terminal and plug in Drake's datachip.{{/GM}}
It's executing now.

{{GM}}There's a pause. You can hear him clicking his tongue like a metronome.{{/GM}}

And... done. Get out of there.
Cast Petrify
Can't Move or use AP
Surging Volcano
The final attack in the Heaven Stance chain. Pierces 1 Armor. Critical chance and critical DMG are increased.
Killer Lvl 3
A powerful attack program directed at one target.
A scrawny woman in ill-fitting clothing stares at you, sizing you up. She clutches a bulging plastic grocery bag to her chest.
You got nuyen? Need meds?

{{GM}}She squeezes her grocery bag tighter.{{/GM}}

I've got drugs and need nuyen. Maybe we can make a deal.
All right, show me what you've got.
You should probably get out of here. Bad things are going down, and it's gonna get dangerous.
I gotta go.
{{GM}}She closes her bag and hugs it to her chest.{{/GM}}

You need anything else?
{{GM}}Her brow furrows.{{/GM}}

That isn't news. It's always dangerous in the Walled City.
It's gotten worse. The Yama Kings are real, and one of them is here.
Listen to me. The Yama Kings are real, and one of them is here. She's already driving people insane.

You have to get out, and you have to do it now.
I can't leave. I have nowhere else to go. Even if I did go wandering around outside, I'd probably either get sent back or killed... outsiders don't like us much.

{{GM}}She licks her lips. Looks down at her bag.{{/GM}}

I know the Walled City. I know how to lay low. I'm gonna hang right here, and I'm gonna be fine.
You're making a huge mistake.
Have it your way, but don't say that I didn't warn you.
Look, you want meds, or not? It's quality stuff, straight from the Lotus Den!

I got jabs, I got inhalers, I got pills. Everything you could need, all right here in m'bag.

If you don't want anything, piss off.
I won't. Now, you want meds, or not? It's quality stuff, straight from the Lotus Den!

I got jabs, I got inhalers, I got pills...
I do. Now, you want meds, or not? It's quality stuff, straight from the Lotus Den!

I got jabs, I got inhalers, I got pills...
If you're smart, you'll walk out of here right now. Come back in a couple of days if you want, but trust me - you need to clear out for the time being.
It's gotten a lot worse. There's a bona fide demon god in town, and she's driving people nuts.

Leaving would be a really good idea, lady. I'm just sayin'.
A predator is on the loose in your community. A rabid god-thing. And she is hungry.

But you are also correct - this is where you belong. If you choose to stay in the face of what's happening here, then I honor you for it.
There's no sense in arguing with such people, my friend. Let her stay - we need to be on our way.

{{GM}}He smiles at the drug peddler. Turns on the charm.{{/GM}}

Besides, you'll be fine here, won't you?
You're back. Need some meds?
Dark Flame (Astral)
Universal Omnitech Cyberleg (Alpha)
This alpha-grade leg replacement was designed for military applications, and carries a Restricted security rating on the street. Passive: +8 HP, +1 Quickness, +1 Dodge.
Shamanic Fetish
Possession of this fetish grants a benefit of +1 Charisma.
Renraku made suit that's a street favorite.
You rifle through the console. A few interesting folders catch your eye.
{{GM}}Research Journal{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Containment-Breach Response Plan{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Lab Controls{{/GM}}
Most of the entries are dated, containing information on the various experiments performed on Tsang's subject. But one stands out: a newer entry regarding the health of the subject, which appears unnamed. For unknown reasons, it's getting sicker and sicker. No amount of Tsang efforts has been able to reverse the ailment.
The response plan is several pages in length, but the summary at the top provides enough information to understand the remaining content.

"Should a breach occur, all containment doors will close and the emergency door control will be routed to this terminal. Additionally, if the subject escapes this floor, a rapid-response unit is on call for immediate for deployment."
Within this folder is a list of commands.
{{GM}}Open containment.{{/GM}}
With a metallic grind, the shutters open to reveal a massive, nightmarish beast. Yet, despite its daunting size and presence, its body is wasting away. It looks sickly. Frail. From once-strong limbs hangs loose flesh, with eyes sunken into its gaunt face.

A thin fluid drips from its eyes and nose, into its mouth, and off its chin. Around the cell are small puddles of the same substance, some even splattered across the walls. A putrid prison.
WARNING LEVEL BLUE: unsealing the holding chamber will allow detained subjects to pass through the containment barrier.

Do you wish to proceed?
{{GM}}Yes.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}No.{{/GM}}
WARNING LEVEL GREEN: subjects may be hostile to surrounding environments and organisms.

Do you wish to proceed?
WARNING LEVEL YELLOW: subjects may incur massive financial and lethal damages, emergency measures notwithstanding.

Do you wish to proceed?
WARNING LEVEL RED: SECONDARY SEAL HAS BEEN RELEASED. CONTAINMENT DOOR TWO IS OPEN.

Locking down floor entrances and exits. Activating emergency plan vermilion... Emergency door override is now available.

ADVISORY: releasing the primary seal will open containment door one. All efforts should be made to contain subjects.
{{GM}}Release primary seal, and open the head of research's office door.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Release primary seal, and open the laboratory door.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Release primary seal, and open the elevator door.{{/GM}}
SCANNING...

Hostiles detected. Terminal locked.
Tiffani Self-Defender
Feint Attack
Pierces up to 1 Armor. May do AP DMG.
Dragon's Breath Round
-5% accuracy. Target is ignited and takes 4 ongoing DMG for 2 RNDs. Strips 1 Armor from the target. Cannot hit adjacent targets.
{{GM}}Captain Jomo is busily playing some kind of gambling game on his commlink. It beeps and flashes as he taps away.{{/GM}}

Come on, Jomo. Win, not lose! Maybe buy yourself that new hat!

{{GM}}He doesn't appear to have noticed you at all.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The game makes a sad, defeated noise. Jomo curses under his breath, nose wrinkling in disgust. Finally, he seems to notice you.{{/GM}}

Stupid game. Always, it cheats me! Never a good hand...

Now! Kindly Cheng sends you, lah? You need Captain Jomo to take you to play pirate?
{{GM}}Head to the MV Nalchi.{{/GM}} That's right.
We can do that later. Right now, I need a favor.
{{GM}}Jomo stands at the edge of the dock, smoking a hand-rolled cigarette as he stares out over the river. As you approach, he lifts a hand in greeting.{{/GM}}

Ho there! Come to admire the river with Jomo? I have a bottle of baiju we can share.
Not right now, Jomo. I need a favor.
Ahh, best choice!

{{GM}}The ork pirate grins from ear to ear and produces a bottle half-full of clear liquid. There is no label, and the cork appears to be hand-carved.{{/GM}}

It is the best my meager money can buy. Not many ships worth raiding, lately. God damned weather!
{{GM}}Take a small sip.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Take a large swig.{{/GM}}
Actually, never mind.
{{GM}}A small sip was probably the better choice - the taste is like unto acetone, kerosene, and old tires. It burns in your mouth, a pile of tiny liquid coals, and you stifle a cough. Jomo claps you on the back, still grinning.{{/GM}}

See? This is how Kindly stays looking so young! Chinese elixir of life!
What favor can Jomo do for you? You need a body dumped at sea? I can do it fast, no one will see. Maybe you need to hide some cargo on a beach, make a map with 'X marks the spot'?

{{GM}}Captain Jomo bursts into hearty laughter, slapping his side in mirth.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Travel to the Sinking Ship.{{/GM}} I need you to take me to the Sinking Ship.
Actually, I have to do some things first.
Ahh! Easy, lah. I know exactly where that heap of junk is.
Lead the way, then.
{{GM}}A smaller drink may have been a better idea. Your eyes begin to water as the baiju fills your mouth with the flavor of kerosene and old tires. Your throat feels like someone's poured molten glass down it. Stifling a cough, you hand the bottle back to Jomo. He's still grinning.{{/GM}}

With this, you are ready to conquer the world!
Suit yourself, my friend!

{{GM}}Raising the bottle to his lips, Jomo takes a long pull. When he finishes, he coughs a few times.{{/GM}}

Woosh! Rocket fuel!
{{GM}}Jomo raises a hand in greeting as you approach.{{/GM}}

All done now? I take you to your ship now? Faster than you can blink, lah!
{{GM}}Jomo raises a hand in greeting as you approach.{{/GM}}

Welcome back, friend. Maybe now you tell me what favor you need from me? Jomo is a good friend to all in Heoi.
Napalm Ball
A fiery explosion that also does ongoing -8 HP for 2 RNDS.
As you creep down onto D Deck, the ship is eerily quiet. The sound of the withering storm is muted to low moans of wind and shuddering vibrations when lightning strikes. Collecting yourself, you listen carefully for any other sounds.

Nothing. Your presence on the ship appears to be as yet unnoticed.
{{GM}}Squeezing water out of her ropes of hair, Gobbet nods in satisfaction.{{/GM}}

Nicely done. We're almost to the goods, and the rest of the ship's got no idea we're here. Fighting down here will definitely get their attention, though. Let's play it smart.

We get the goods, radio our pickup, and get out.
Exactly. Let's wrap this job.
Let's take it slow. No mistakes this far in.
Keep your eyes open, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). We've gotten this far by being careful - no reason to change that now. I'd like to get home without any extra lead in my body.
{{GM}}Duncan cocks his head, listening intently.{{/GM}}

That's the kind of thing I like to hear, $(l.name) - nothing but the weather. As long as we don't get into a fight down here, we'll stay clear of trouble. Any gunfire will get their attention, and fast.

Let's get the data and samples and get the hell out of here.
Stay low and keep your eyes and ears open. No reason to cause a fuss if we can avoid it.
{{GM}}Is0bel plants a hand on her hip, consulting her commlink.{{/GM}}

I'm not picking up any radio chatter. We should be in the clear as long as we can avoid getting into any fights. The storm's noise is muffled enough down here that they'll definitely notice if we start something.
Let's get the goods and get out. Minimal fuss.
Don't be afraid to defend yourself.
{{GM}}Is0bel hefts her rifle and nods.{{/GM}}

You're the boss, $(l.name). Lead the way.
{{GM}}Glancing at his bracer, Racter nods with satisfaction.{{/GM}}

No alarms, no guards with guns, and no lockdown on the doors. Not bad. A word of warning, though: I doubt the storm's noise is loud enough down here to cover any fighting. If we get spotted, we'll have to dig in for a brawl.
We'll deal with that if it happens.
Let's try to keep things quiet.
If we raise the alarm, I'll be prepared. Koschei is always anxious to prove itself.
I can hear no sounds to indicate they're aware of us, $(l.name). Gunfire belowdecks will surely alert them, however. We should be careful, lest we tip our hand.
Be ready for resistance.
Stay quiet and strike fast if you have to.
{{GM}}Gaichu adjusts his sword, nodding.{{/GM}}

Any who oppose us will die, don't worry. We've made it this far - they can't stop us now.
Alarm klaxons ring throughout the ship as you arrive on D Deck. While the ship security certainly knows intruders are aboard, they don't seem to know which specific deck you're on. Closing the hatch behind you, you slam an elbow into the delicate electronics panel which controls its' locking. Glass and plastic splinters, sealing the door behind you.

Even if your pursuers know which deck you're on, they won't be getting in through that door.
{{GM}}Glancing at his bracer, Racter nods with satisfaction.{{/GM}}

I don't think they know which deck we're on. We should be able to move freely about the ship until we're spotted. After that... Well. That's the nature of our profession, yes?
Pity we couldn't make it in quietly.
Keep Koschei running hot and be ready for anything.
{{GM}}Koschei whirrs and flexes its legs.{{/GM}}

We'll be ready. There's plenty of security, but they're not up to our standards. I expect no significant difficulty.
{{GM}}Gaichu wipes off his sword with an old rag, studying the blade in the dim light.{{/GM}}

That was bloody business. And I think we will see more before the night is out. Let's see this done.
Stick to the job. No extra bloodshed if we can avoid it.
Keep your sword ready. We'll be done soon.
Lead the way. As long as we keep them off-balance it should be swift from here on.
{{GM}}Is0bel checks the chamber on her rifle, looking at you somberly as she closes the bolt.{{/GM}}

Ready for more resistance? I think they're searching for us, but don't know which deck we're on. But they'll definitely be guarding the cargo.
Let's go give 'em a fight, then.
If we're spotted, all options are on the table.
After you, then. You know me... I'll hang back and cover the entrances. Anybody peeks out, they're catching lead.
{{GM}}Duncan rapidly reloads his assault rifle, tucking the old magazine away in his vest.{{/GM}}

That was a lot noisier than I'd like. Maybe if I'd been faster back there...

Well, what's done is done.
You feel bad about the bloodshed?
Keep up the pressure and don't let them regroup. We're almost clear.
The security on board knew the risks when they took the contract. So did we. If it's choice between us or them, I'm picking us every time.
{{GM}}Gobbet shifts back and forth on her feet, ropes of hair flying as she looks left and right.{{/GM}}

Shit, shit, shit... This isn't my idea of a good time, $(l.name). We're too exposed on this run. Alarms make me nervous.
Keep it together. I'll get you out in one piece.
Once we get the data, the fat paycheck will make it worth it.
I'm holding you to that, you know. And if I don't make it out of this, I'm coming back and haunting your ass.
Gaichu is in the process of cleaning his cabin as you enter. Using a small hand broom, he sweeps dust and debris about into small piles.

Sensing your arrival, however, he pauses.
$(l.name). It is not every day that one can say they fought an ancient god - and won.

{{GM}}The ghoul folds his arms across his chest as a thin smile graces his lips.{{/GM}}

It is an unbelievable story.
I have a hard time believing it myself. It all seems like a dream.
I wish we'd had a chance to take care of Josephine Tsang, too.
God, I'd hate to live in a world where that kind of thing is a mundane occurrence.
{{GM}}Gaichu nods in understanding.{{/GM}}

I feel somewhat the same. Perhaps it is the supernatural nature of the Yama Kings, or the mind's own tendency to compartmentalize. Regardless, it *did* happen, and we survived. A challenge worthy of legend.

How do you feel about being part of that?
I'd rather not do anything like that again.
I feel like I could take on the world.
I think I need a nap, honestly.
I do not blame you. Once in a lifetime is quite enough for me, as well. I am quite content to let the hoary old gods stay on their side of the veil, playing whatever inscrutable games amuse them.

For any other manner of combat, however, there is no one I would rather stand with.
Given what I have seen, the world might not win. You have a singular level of drive and focus. The kind of intensity rarely seen.

{{GM}}Gaichu grins crookedly.{{/GM}}

Just let me know when you decide to topple the Corporate Court. I suspect I will need to prepare myself, if I am to keep up.
{{GM}}Gaichu laughs, slapping a palm against his leg.{{/GM}}

Well, that is a simple request, easily accommodated. I'm sure no one would begrudge you some rest and relaxation after all of this.
{{GM}}Gaichu cocks his head.{{/GM}}

Do you suppose that would have made a difference, in the long run? So long as there are are humans, there will be the powerful and those they exploit. I'm certain that Josephine's death would please you on a personal level, but someone else would simply fill the void she left.
Maybe you're right.
I don't care about that. I just know she needs to get what's coming to her.
Yeah, you're right. I just figure that woman is owed some payback.
The things we accomplished in the Walled City, with Qian Ya... These are the important things that people will remember. They will never know who saved them, why, or where they disappeared to - but they will remember what we did long after Josephine Tsang's name is a forgotten gasp in a rotting book.

There is a poetic beauty in that, I think.
Gaichu looks slowly around the room, sightless eyes focusing on nothing in particular. After a moment, he looks back at you.
I'm afraid this cabin will need a lot of work because I can call it truly 'livable'. But I suppose I have to do it, or learn to love living in filth.

{{GM}}Gaichu suddenly looks toward you, as if realizing something.{{/GM}}

That is, if I am still considered part of the team. Your affairs here are done, so I was unsure...
I'm glad you're part of the team, Gaichu.
I'm not leaving any time soon.
I'll let you know when we've got more work.
Excellent.

Then I think I will get to cleaning, and if you need me for anything...

Well. You know where to find me.
Some day, $(l.name). But not today. For now, let us rest and allow the mighty of Hong Kong to wrestle with each other.
Destiny moves in mysterious ways. Josephine's fortunes may have begun to shift, based on your actions. Should the Corporate Court catch wind of Tsang's weakness, they will assuredly devour the corporation.

It isn't as satisfying as a bullet to the head, but such is the way of life.
The sixth world is full of wonders. Every day brings new discoveries - or, perhaps, awakenings of ancient truths and beings. Some day, such events may become mundane. But I would echo your sentiment: let us hope that they do not.

What will you do now, hmm? Are there further mountains for you to climb?
No, thanks. Only a quiet sandy beaches, please.
I figure I'll stick around in Hong Kong, and see where life takes me.
No plans, at the moment. I figure something out, eventually.
I would do the same, were I not certain to terrify all the swimmers away from the beach.

Maybe if I went at midnight, to an isolated area in Sai Kung...
Gaichu, the surfing ghoul. There's a thought.
Nobody wants to see you in a bathing suit, Gaichu.
I'd rather be preparing for the next job.
No stranger than 'Gaichu, the ghoul who helped slay an ancient god of death.'

How does it feel, to be a part of such a thing?
{{GM}}Gaichu laughs loudly.{{/GM}}

Point taken. And it's better to be known as the ghoul who helped slay an ancient god of death.

How do *you* feel, having been part of such a momentous occasion?
Really? I'd expect you'd want a rest.

How do you really feel, about having put down a Yama King?
A good plan - one that echoes my own.

I have to ask, how do you feel about being part of killing an ancient god of death?
Ah! A very zen way of looking at the world.

{{GM}}Gaichu crosses his arms, smiling.{{/GM}}

This is the nature of ronin - the name means 'wave man', you know.
Follow the currents of life, finding your fortune where you may.

No laws. No masters. Only yourself, your work, and what few allies you can call upon.
I will do the same. And when you need my assistance, I will be here. Do not hesitate to call upon me.

Until that hour, my friend. Goodnight.
You realize that should we ever try to tell the story of what has happened here tonight, no one will believe us, yes?

Then again, they may not believe you anyway - you took in a ghoul, gave him a room in your home, and then left him to his own devices.
I don't care what people think. I just did what I had to.
Yes. Yes you did.

{{GM}}Gaichu cradles his chin one hand.{{/GM}}

Push a man to the edge, and then you will see what he is truly capable of.
I confess, I am confused as to why you invited me into your home, yet never came to speak to me - at least in any meaningful fashion.

Do not mistake me - I am grateful for all that you have given me, but I suspect most people would have been more concerned by a ghoul in their hold.
I guess I always had other things on my mind.
I wanted to respect your privacy.
{{GM}}Gaichu bows respectfully.{{/GM}}

Ahh. Well, take this as a request to speak with me more in the future, then. I would very much like to get to know you, and it has been a long time since I have had a friend.

For now, however, I will need to keep cleaning this cabin, or I will need to learn to live in filth.
See you later, Gaichu.
And yet I suspect that should circumstances conspire to place you in a similar position in the future, you would fight rather than submit. I confess, I do not know you very well, but you do not seem the sort to take threats lying down.
The storage room that functions as Gaichu's cabin is a cramped, overheated mess. Piles of old ship parts share space with tarnished cookware, flats of instant noodles, a collection of cast-off clothes, and reams of diagnostic manuals for obsolete computer hardware.

To top it all off, there is barely any light whatsoever - all of the bulbs in this room are missing.
Gaichu is busily moving boxes around, apparently in an effort to carve out some personal space amid the junk that he shares his cabin with. As you enter, he cocks his head and turns around.
Welcome to my sanctuary, $(l.name). I apologize for the lack of light, but as I did not need it, Gobbet took the bulbs for use elsewhere.

{{GM}}Gaichu puts down the box that he's in the process of moving and politely bows his head toward you.{{/GM}}

How can I be of assistance?
I just wanted to see how you were settling in.
Don't you worry about bumping into things? It's cramped in here.
What do you think of the $(story.Global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName)?
{{GM}}Gaichu rolls his shoulders in a diffident shrug.{{/GM}}

I live. I am among those who can make use of my services and who are not attempting to claim the bounty on my head.

Is that not enough, for now?
I need to talk about your condition. Being a ghoul.
Why did you pick the name Gaichu, anyway?
Your armor is heavier than what most shadowrunners wear. And more distinctive, too.
How did you end up running the shadows?
How did you end up in Hong Kong?
Did you grow up in a corporation?
{{GM}}Gaichu clicks his tongue and sharply dips his head.{{/GM}}

Yes. I have indeed. I had thought that I was alone in this.
No, you're definitely not alone.
I saw a vision of shadowy shapes, rows upon rows of sharp teeth, and the stench of sulphur. My initial assumption was that I was simply dreaming of my fear of becoming what so many assume of me: a monster without a mind.

{{GM}}Gaichu considers this, cradling his chin between two fingers.{{/GM}}

Does this coincide with a dream you had?
Yeah. The very same.
Curious. A shared hallucination, perhaps? Flows in the Hong Kong ley lines?

It is interesting that I had the same dream as you while I was in Whampoa Garden and you were here. Were that not the case, I would call this boat haunted.
Do you think it means anything?
It's probably just coincidence.
I have no idea, and frankly, I do not care.

Omens and portents are powerful inducements to behave foolishly. I would suggest leaving the interpretation of dreams to soothsayers and priests.
Yes. An interesting coincidence, but hardly one that warrants losing sleep over.

Spending your time interpreting dreams is a good way to lose many hours and gain nothing.
{{GM}}Gaichu inclines his head.{{/GM}}

As you wish. You are my benefactor, and as such, I yield to you.

Ask, then. I will do my best to answer.
How do I know that the team is safe from you?
Aside from being blind, how has it affected you?
I thought ghouls were all animalistic predators.
It seems like your condition has stabilized.
Because I give you my word that I will not harm you or anyone else on the team.

{{GM}}Gaichu squares his shoulders, expression stony.{{/GM}}

I am a man with a disease, not a mindless beast. My word is my bond.
But you're a cannibal!
Well, I'd prefer it if you remained in your quarters just the same.
I can accept that.
And you kill people. Does that mean you will kill me? The rest of the team? I think not.

I do not eat human flesh because I enjoy it, I do it of necessity. Tigers hunt because it is in their nature; so too it is with me.
Is there a cure for the strain of HMHVV you have?
What happens if you stop eating human flesh?
{{GM}}Gaichu snorts harshly, shaking his head with a grimace.{{/GM}}

If there is, it has eluded the best doctors in Shanghai and Hong Kong. The rest of the world has fared no better - if they had, there would not be substantial bounties upon ghouls in every major nation.
From what the doctors tell me, the disease will not kill me. I will live with it until I die of some other cause, but I will remain a blind cannibal until that day comes.

They say that strong-willed individuals can hold off mental degradation indefinitely. If that is true, I pray that I am strong enough.
I will die. I tried, at first, to resist. Eating ordinary food only causes me to vomit it back up. I began to waste away until I finally decided that I would rather live with my dietary peculiarity than die because it revolted me.

It was the first of many bridges I have had to cross.
If you think that to be necessary, I will acquiesce.

{{GM}}Gaichu gestures toward a small refrigerator in the corner of the room.{{/GM}}

I have all of the foodstuffs that I require in here.
Good. I would hate to think there is lingering distrust between us.
Aside from my heightened senses of smell and hearing, I am stronger, tougher, and more resilient than any mundane human. I can achieve feats of physicality that are normally restricted to adepts and those with extensive enhancements.

{{GM}}Gaichu lifts one hand, fingers crooked to show off his elongated nails - claws, really.{{/GM}}
These, as well. As sharp as any small knife. I prefer my sword, but in a grapple they come in extremely handy.

{{GM}}He draws one nail over the surface of his shoulder plates. A hair-fine spiral of armor peels off in the nail's wake.{{/GM}}
Do you still need to sleep?
Can you turn into mist or anything?
{{GM}}Gaichu chuckles, his laughter rasping out over his lips.{{/GM}}

Unfortunately I do. I am not an undead creature of legend. If I manage to unlock the secret of rest without sleep, I will be certain to inform you.
{{GM}}Gaichu cuts loose with a loud, rasping laugh. After a moment, the laughter turns to a cough, and he doubles over.{{/GM}}

If I could, believe me, you would be the first to know. Unfortunately not... my condition has enhanced my body, but it has not granted me any mystical powers thus far.
Most are. In the vast majority of cases, the infected become the crazed predators everyone sees on the nightly trid news.

{{GM}}Gaichu bares his jagged teeth, running his tongue across the tips of them as he tilts his head back.{{/GM}}

I bear the physical signs, but not the mental ones. A few escape that fate.
There are others, though. In Africa, there is a nation of ghouls - it is called Asamando. The intelligent ghouls in Asamando care for the ones whose higher faculties have been ravaged by the disease.

Still, it not a safe place to visit.
What makes you different?
You're lucky to still have your mind.
I am willful. Those with a strong sense of self - a chip on their shoulder, if you will - are always those that survive the infection with their minds intact.

I suppose I am selfish enough to have retained a passable semblance of my former humanity.
Am I? I suppose luck has something to do with it, but so does will.

Those with a strong sense of self - a chip on their shoulder, so to speak - are always those that survive the infection with their minds intact.
For now, it has. I will not suddenly become a ravenous beast lurking in the hold of your ship - at least, no more so than I already am.

{{GM}}Gaichu bears his teeth in a wry grin, dipping his head a little.{{/GM}}
It was given to me. This is what the Japanese call ghouls, for the most part. I am vermin - a thing shunned by polite society, to be hunted and slain for a bounty.

My old life is gone. It seemed as apt a name for the streets as any other that I could choose.
Usually shadowrunners pick something more impressive.
Don't you worry that people will think it's a little silly?
I like that attitude. It turns the tables of power.
{{GM}}Gaichu leans back against the boxes behind him.{{/GM}}

Once I establish myself as a shadowrunner of quality, the name will *become* impressive. Until then, I am unconcerned with what common people think of it.
What common people think of my name is of little consequence.

Besides, you run with a woman named "Gobbet." I feel that I have the advantage in this regard.
{{GM}}Gaichu dips his head in agreement.{{/GM}}

One does not defeat the enemy solely by strength of arms. One must turn one's own weaknesses into strengths.

It is an old and valuable lesson, too often forgotten.
{{GM}}Gaichu nods, growling his assent.{{/GM}}

That is correct. It is the armor worn by the elite soldiers of the Renraku corporate military - the Red Samurai.
What are the Red Samurai?
{{CC}}Etiquette: Corporate{{/CC}} Those are the Renraku special forces, aren't they?
Those are the elite Renraku soldiers. Like Ares Firewatch.
The Renraku military's special operations division. The most elite that the corporation has to offer, on par with Ares Firewatch or Tir Tairngire's Ghosts.

Red Samurai are world-class soldiers, assigned to only the most difficult and important missions.
How'd you manage to steal a suit of their armor?
That armor's a rare thing for a shadowrunner to have.
Aren't they going to come looking for your armor?
{{GM}}The corner of Gaichu's mouth curls up into the smallest of grins.{{/GM}}

I did not steal it. It is mine.
You were a Red Samurai?
You don't strike me as a corporate soldier.
Indeed. For the entirety of my adult life, I was a member of the Renraku military - specifically, the Red Samurai.

That changed relatively recently. I feel the reasons are abundantly clear.
Hence, I still possess my armor, my sword, my training...

They have served me well in both my previous life and in this one.
Circumstances change, and with them, perspective.

I was a member of the Renraku military for my entire adult life - until my current affliction, anyway.
That is true.

It is considerably less rare for a Red Samurai to have a suit of it, however. Even if he goes rogue.
{{GM}}Cocking his head back, Gaichu smiles grimly.{{/GM}}

Of course they are. But not for the reasons that you assume.
If it's a danger to the team, I need to know about it.
I mean to say that they will come looking for me because I was bound by duty to commit seppuku rather than flee.

Obviously, I have failed in my duty. And that is a grave insult and embarrassment to the team.
Correct. The most elite soldiers that the corporation can muster, trained to the highest and most exacting level possible.

They are assigned only the most dangerous, difficult, and important missions. Things other units would balk at even discussing.
{{GM}}Gaichu rasps out a coughing laugh that reverberates through the cramped room.{{/GM}}

What other employment is appropriate for a cannibal whose only previous experience is in military operations? There are not many things I know how to do. This is one of them.
That doesn't explain why you fled your old unit.
You weren't always a ghoul, though.
But why not ask Renraku for medical help?
In theory, Red Samurai who are wounded are given the best in medical treatment and cybernetics. If these are insufficient to return them to active duty, they are given a pension and retired.

In practice, this is never the case.
Red Samurai teams do everything together - eat, sleep, train, play. We learn to think for each other, move as a single entity. When part of that team is broken, it affects everyone.

{{GM}}Gaichu runs his claws over his scalp, sighing.{{/GM}}

The other members of the unit would be distracted, thinking about a wounded comrade, and would resent a new member for usurping the old member's place.
So the wounded invariably take the same course of action, for the good of the team: ritual suicide. Seppuku.
That's completely insane.
An interesting way to ensure unit cohesion.
I can understand the logic behind that.
{{GM}}Gaichu chuckles softly, shaking his head.{{/GM}}

I believe that it is effective in most cases, but I also believe I am worth more alive than dead.
In my case, I became infected while on a sabotage mission against Shiawase, in Osaka. The unit was exfiltrating on foot from Naniwa Ward, through the Airin-chiku slums.

We had not anticipated a ghoul nest on our route. My surprise got the better of me, and I was bitten.
Understand that since the passage of the Yamato Act, Japan is a "pure" country. Metahumans are deported, and to be infected with HMHVV is to be less than an animal. You will be killed on sight.

Since this was, in effect, the same as being permanently crippled in the eyes of the team, it was expected that I would kill myself.
Why didn't you?
That sounds pretty fascist.
Because I was still capable of fighting, I questioned the necessity of suicide. Why should I die, if I was still as effective as before? Was I not worth having, simply because my diet changed?

One does not discard a quality tool, simply because the surface is stained.
I made the decision to leave while the unit was allowing me time to prepare for my expected suicide. I took nothing but my weapons, armor, and a small number of personal mementos.

I knew that the unit would hunt me down and kill me. Ghouls are considered vermin, in Japan. To have a Red Samurai become one and refuse to die? Unconscionable.
How long did it take them to find you?
It sounds like the Red Samurai take honor very seriously.
They found me two weeks after I ran. I was careless as I fled south, and they caught up with me in Fukuoka. But I escaped, barely.

It was at that point I decided that I should leave Japan. I knew they would not stop hunting me, but I could make it more difficult for them.
They do, to an anachronistic degree. Political and ideological indoctrination is as much a part of the training as physical fitness and weapons practice. In order to use this...

{{GM}}Gaichu raps several knuckles on the hilt of his sword.{{/GM}}

...They make certain you will only turn it on enemies of the company and the nation.
{{GM}}Gaichu bares his teeth in a vicious grin.{{/GM}}

When I was younger, I would have argued that you simply did not understand what it means to be Japanese. I think now, however, that you are correct. The Yamato Act is a convenient way to encourage nationalistic fervor, while avoiding the racial problems of other nations by simply removing non-humans.
Perhaps in the UCAS or other Western counties, it would not be necessary. But for us, the laws of etiquette are different. Some call it extreme, but it is always done willingly.

Or almost always, I should say.
Can you? Then you are more open-minded than most who learn of the practice.

Most believe it to be excessive and anachronistic. But it has served the Red Samurai well, for the most part.
I was searching for a cure. I needed a place where I could disappear into the shadows, find work, and evade capture if a cure did not materialize. The Yamato Act meant that it was even more dangerous to be in Japan than anywhere else.

{{GM}}Gaichu smiles thinly, leaning back on his heels.{{/GM}}

I went to China, primarily because I still hoped to be able to return home. It felt less final if I fled to somewhere nearby.
I went first to Shanghai, but Renraku's presence there is significantly more robust than in Hong Kong. I learned that my previous unit had not stopped hunting me after I left Japan, so I decided to move further afield.

{{GM}}Gaichu unfurls his hands, claws pointing toward the ceiling.{{/GM}}

Hence, Hong Kong. Where else can anyone arrive and disappear without the city caring one whit?
Seattle comes to mind.
Lagos, maybe?
Berlin seems a good spot.
If Renraku were not building that towering arcology to dominate the skyline, I would agree with you. Since it clearly has that kind of influence in the city, it seemed unwise to make my residence there.

{{GM}}Gaichu runs his nails over his chin.{{/GM}}

Besides, I have always liked Hong Kong. It has more character than the UCAS.
Since arriving here, I've drifted between neighborhoods, selling my services to those who are unafraid of my appearance and condition.

{{GM}}Gaichu frowns deeply.{{/GM}}

It has not been as profitable as I'd hoped.
Definitely. I considered it, in fact - if for no other reason than its proximity to Asamando. But I was not yet ready to give up on a cure. Lagos lacks the infrastructure and medical care of better-maintained cities.

{{GM}}Gaichu shrugs.{{/GM}}

Perhaps when we part ways, I will relocate there.
Perhaps five years ago. But the recent upheavals and the newly iron-fisted Saeder-Krupp influence filled me with trepidation.

The Flux State is no more. Long live the corporate Berlin of the future.
Yes, in Keihanshin. The Kyoto-Osaka-Kobe sprawl. It is less populated than Neo-Tokyo, but not by much. I grew up in east Kobe, where my father was posted in a Renraku complex.

{{GM}}Gaichu roots around in a nearby box, running his fingertips over several chips before deciding on one. He slots it into his PDA, and a trid photo flickers to life in the space between you.{{/GM}}
A young man - obviously Gaichu - leans against a railing which overlooks a sprawling harbor complex of skyscrapers and cranes. His school uniform is ripped, and the beginnings of a black eye are forming. Abrasions cover his knuckles, and blood dots his pants.

Despite this, he's grinning like he's just won the lottery. Vibrant. Fierce.
You look a little beat up.
That's not what I expected to see.
You look like you haven't changed much.
Ahh. That must be on Mount Maya.

If I remember right, I gave better than I got in that fight. Three against one, but they were out of shape and cocky.
I used to cause a lot of trouble when I was in school. My father was constantly raging that I had no sense of responsibility, and that I needed to take life more seriously.

{{GM}}A cackle erupts from Gaichu, sudden mirth spreading across his face.{{/GM}}

The final straw was when he bailed me out of jail.
I've been in jail a few times. What did you do?
That would have tried Raymond's patience, too.
My friends and I stole a delivery van. It had a shipment of Shiawase simsense decks - brand new, very expensive. We were going to fence them and use the money to take a trip to Okinawa.

{{GM}}Gaichu pauses, cocking his head.{{/GM}}

Are you familiar with what it's like to grow up in a corporate family?
{{CC}}Etiquette: Corporate{{/CC}} I know a thing or two about it, yeah.
Then you understand how it is: children are encouraged to participate in acts of vandalism against rival corporations.

Unfortunately, we were caught by Shiawase security, not Renraku.
You think your father approved, even secretly?
What did your father do next?
I doubt it very much. For him, the activity was not the issue - it was that I was caught and embarrassed both the company and him.

He is very much a man who believes that there is a proper way to do things, and I had once again cut corners.
{{GM}}Gaichu clicks his tongue a few times. He seems reluctant to continue.{{/GM}}

That is a story for another time, unfortunately. I still have a lot of arranging to do, and I doubt anyone else will be willing to be alone with me in a darkened room.

Come back later, we can discuss it further.
Okay, if that's what you want.
Come on, can't you tell me anything more?
{{GM}}Gaichu bows politely.{{/GM}}

It is. And thank you again for your hospitality.
If you come back later, perhaps I can. For now, I have to hew a livable space from this junk heap.

As you can see, that will take some time.
You have to understand, children are trained to hate rival corporations. We did not regard a theft of Shiawase goods as illegal - we were simply doing our part to ensure Renraku's supremacy. This kind of behavior is ignored and even tacitly encouraged by company media.

Unfortunately, we were caught by Shiawase security, not Renraku.
That is the curse of fathers everywhere: to have their children give them ulcers. Especially true for high-strung, authoritarian ones like Yasujiro.
What picture is it? Obviously, I am not able to see the image.
You're standing by a railing, overlooking a city.
You look like you just got beat up.
How do you mean? I am unable to see which picture is being displayed.
You look like you got in a fight.
You're looking down at a city.
Please, come by whenever you like.
No. Light and darkness have no meaning for me. I see, after a fashion, but only the astral shadows of the world. You, for instance, are as clear to me as the sky on a clear day. But inanimate objects are only dim shadows.

This is why I cannot use a rifle - I simply cannot aim at any significant range.
{{GM}}Gaichu waves a hand around the room, fingers uncurling as if to offer the contents to you.{{/GM}}

For everything that is not living, my hearing and sense of smell are more than enough to keep me aware of where things are. For instance, I can hear Gobbet frying oysters on a hot plate.

They smell like she fished them out of a dumpster.
{{GM}}Gaichu glances toward the ceiling. After a moment, he extends a hand, palm up. A single drop of leaking oil falls into it.{{/GM}}

I am shocked that it has not sunk and drowned us all, to be perfectly honest. But it is as much of a home than anywhere else I have stayed in Hong Kong, and I am certain fewer people will stumble upon me and try to kill me.

For now, it will suffice.
{{GM}}Gaichu dips his head in greeting as you enter.{{/GM}}

Hello again. How may I help you?
The cabin is in a far better state than it was previously. The heat has been adjusted down and the ventilation restored.

The boxes of junk and parts have been stacked and neatly arranged, and Gaichu's small amount of personal gear is tucked away in a corner. There is a small mat in the center of the cabin that looks like it doubles as both a rug and a sleeping pad.
{{GM}}Gaichu is seated in the lotus position, eyes closed. His fingertips rest on a braille reader that is plugged into his PDA; the device fills the room with a soft clicking from the pin combinations. As you approach, he lifts his hands from the reader's surface.{{/GM}}

Hello again, $(l.name). Is there something I can assist you with?
Looks like you've carved out a nice little spot here.
I was hoping we could talk some more. Got a minute?
Checking your email?
If you say so. I doubt it would be suitable for others. But I do not require much by way of space, and have few possessions.

So long as I have a quiet area in which I can sit and relax, I am happy.
Now...

What is it that you wished to discuss?
What were you reading?
I want to know more about what it's like to be a ghoul.
We were talking about your father bailing you out of jail.
So how did you end up joining the Renraku military?
Tell me about the members of your unit.
{{GM}}Gaichu draws himself up, folding his palms in his lap. With one toe, he pushes the braille reader away.{{/GM}}

It is called "Hagakure" - "Hidden Leaves." Written by Yamamoto Tsunetomo, as a treatise on what it means to be a samurai, and how one should best serve one's lord.

Required reading for the Red Samurai, unsurprisingly.
Reliving old memories?
Looking for hidden meaning?
{{CC}}Etiquette: Academic{{/CC}} Wasn't he forbidden from killing himself when his lord died?
Not so much old memories as old lessons.

{{GM}}Gaichu smiles sharply, running a claw across the line of his jaw.{{/GM}}

I have many scars to remember my mistakes by, and each one seems to evoke a passage from the book.
The author has a central thesis: when there is a question of life or death, always choose death. Throw oneself into the fray with no resignations, and act on instinct alone.

My current state of affairs speaks the truth of this more robustly than any lesson in a dojo.
What's the rest of the book about?
That sounds a little crazy, honestly.
That doesn't sound too different from life in the Redmond Barrens.
{{GM}}Gaichu ticks off the points by unfurling successive fingers.{{/GM}}

It is partly a manual for proper behavior toward one's lord, partly a rumination on the mindset required to be victorious in combat, and partly a collection of stories.
Tsunetomo believed that to truly embody the virtues of a samurai, adherents should be mindful of their path at all times. Never stop training. Always question how one's actions reflect on their lord.

Above all, be prepared to do your duty instinctively at any time, no matter what the cost.
Instinct seems better suited to a ghoul than a man, honestly.
That sounds like a dangerous path to walk.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Academic{{/CC}} If I recall correctly, the author was a bureaucrat who never fought anyone.
{{GM}}Spreading his palms, Gaichu bows his head in assent.{{/GM}}

Some might take offense at that assessment, but I am inclined to agree. I do not plan with the same efficacy as I once did. But I would not curse the tiger for relying on its instincts - why should I not make use of mine?
That's a fair point.
Aren't you worried that you'll lose more of yourself?
I am glad that you feel that way. I suspect many would be worried about a ghoul choosing to embrace his instincts, given the connotations of such a choice. But I am certain that I can maintain my sense of self regardless.
What does he say about masterless samurai like you?
What would he say about your refusal to kill yourself?
"Seven times down, eight times up."

{{GM}}Gaichu smiles thinly, rapping a claw on the hilt of his sword.{{/GM}}

More specifically, if a samurai has not been a ronin at least seven times, then he has not truly lived as a samurai.
Those were different times, however. It was common for samurai to fall out of favor with their lord and be turned loose to wander. For company men like myself, the choice is serve or die.
Is there anything else you would like to discuss?
I suspect he would not approve of my decision. For him, a commandment to take one's own life was sacrosanct. But he also had a strong belief in lords treating their retainers justly, and with kindness.

In practice, this was not always the case.
I have considered it. But I do not think it likely. How can I lose a self that no longer exists?

If I refuse to accept what I have become, I limit myself to remaining a damaged remnant of the man I was. But if I embrace my new nature, I can grow and become more than a mere man.
I am certain it is, but what choice do I have? Without a cure for my condition, all that I am able to do is embrace the reality of what I have become.

It does not seem like much of a choice at all, to me.
{{GM}}Gaichu's lips curl into a slight scowl, but he nods in agreement.{{/GM}}

That is true. Tsunetomo never fought anyone, and some have criticized him for trying to speak of being a warrior without ever lifting a sword. But I believe that he has many things of value to say. He cared a great deal about the deeper meaning of being a samurai.

If lived experience is the only path to truth, then all philosophers are fools.
I would tend to agree with that, actually.
I respect him for trying to elevate the philosophy.
He sounds a bit like an armchair general to me.
{{GM}}Barking out a sharp, solitary laugh, Gaichu smiles.{{/GM}}

If that is your attitude, then I fear there is precious little I can do to change your mind on the subject.
As do I. No one is perfect, but we should all strive as diligently as he to elevate our way of being. Most walk through life blind, never understanding their own desires or the effects of their actions.

If more of us meditated as deeply as Tsunetomo on our lot in life, I suspect there would be less misery in the world.
The generations of Japanese soldiers who have read and found enlightenment in his writings would disagree, myself included.

Would you criticize a teacher for teaching, and not doing? It is the same in this case: I cannot devalue his words simply because he lived in a time of peace.
So it seems to most in Japan as well. Most are unprepared to live by the code of Bushido.

Like any special forces unit, the Red Samurai are elite. Those that cannot meet the stringent requirements are not looked down upon - they are simply not exceptional.
And you are?
I don't think you have to "choose death" to be exceptional.
Obviously. I am not only a Red Samurai, but one who managed to live when his unit tried to kill him. I have survived and even begun to prosper.

What is that, if not exceptional?
Of course not. But it is the center of what the Red Samurai are.

Other elite units live by their own codes. For us, it is the code of Bushido. And Bushido demands that we make that choice.
Truly?

{{GM}}Gaichu considers this, leaning over to rest his arm on one knee.{{/GM}}

I have fought a few shadowrunners in my time, and I admit, they have always proven more tenacious opponents than corporate soldiers have.
On the street, it's always life or death. You get a lot of practice.
When you've got nothing left to lose, you're the most dangerous.
That's because the weak ones have been weeded out.
Then I am not surprised at the prowess of those that I have encountered.

Soldiers train, but rarely against real opposition.
And this is why I am unconcerned with appearing dangerous.

I appear dangerous because I am. What is left for me to lose but my life?
It must be a harsh trial by fire, then. The ones that I battled thought nothing of throwing themselves upon my sword for a chance to protect their team.
I have it memorized, but sometimes I have found that reading the words reveals new meanings, yes.

I may have left my old life behind, but old habits are the hardest to shake.
{{GM}}Gaichu blinks, obviously surprised. A wide grin spreads across his face.{{/GM}}

You know of him, then? Yes, that is Tsunetomo.

He was eager to die and show his loyalty, but Lord Mitsushige had always found that custom to be wasteful.
{{GM}}Gaichu cocks his head at you, his milky eyes narrowing mirthfully.{{/GM}}

Preparing for the eventuality of killing me and collecting the bounty? Make sure you leave my face intact - I would prefer to be a well-preserved trophy.
Don't worry, I'll have it stuffed and mounted on my wall.
Who'd want such an ugly trophy anyway?
Maybe I can sell your body to an herb shop - one of the stodgy, traditional ones.
{{GM}}Gaichu bares his teeth in a rictus grin. You can hear a faint chuckle rumble in the back of his throat.{{/GM}}

Now that would be an illustrious end to my career. A severed head, decorating a leaking wreck of a boat, home to extremely private individuals who will never show me off.

Couldn't you sell it to a museum, or something of that sort?
{{GM}}Gaichu grows serious, leaning back.{{/GM}}

If you wish to know about what it is like to be me, ask away. I see no reason to conceal the details of my condition.
So you eat people. What's that like?
Most ghouls smell like rotting meat. Why don't you?
Are you immortal?
What's the deal with your teeth?
{{GM}}Gaichu blinks a few times, and cocks his head as if to stare at the ceiling.{{/GM}}

What is it like to eat anything else? Or for a diabetic to take insulin? It is like that: a fact of life. I have found that most people are revolted by the *concept* of eating the flesh of humans, rather than the act itself.
Taken in isolation of social concerns, humans are no more or less edible than most mammals. The flesh can be of poor or high quality, depending on all the factors you would expect: diet, lifestyle, et cetera.

I prefer to prepare my meals as I would sashimi - light garnish and flavoring, but with an emphasis on the taste of the base meat.
Do I enjoy it? No, not especially. Some Japanese are fond of pork and chicken sashimi, but I have never been one of them.

{{GM}}Gaichu shrugs helplessly.{{/GM}}

But it is a fact I must accept. And if it is how things will be, I will make the best of it.
Do you feel bad about having to eat people?
No. But I was never a vegetarian, so why should I?

{{GM}}Gaichu seems puzzled by the question, as if he's missing nuances of meaning.{{/GM}}

It does not matter where the meat comes from - someone who died in a car accident is as viable as someone I kill.
I admit, I have eaten people that I have killed, but that was of necessity. I was going to kill them anyway; why let their bodies go to waste?
Diet and cleanliness. Most ghouls eat rotting flesh, and do not bathe.

I eat fresh meat, and bathe regularly.
{{GM}}Considering this, Gaichu leans over onto one elbow.{{/GM}}

I have no idea. I do not believe there have been any organized studies of ghoul longevity. Most strains of the Human-Metahuman Vampiric Virus impart a semblance of extended life, but I do not believe that the Krieger strain is one.

Somehow, I think it is more likely that I will die in combat than of old age - no matter how long I live.
It might be interesting to ask a doctor.
Well, you don't look tremendously healthy.
To what end? I live by the sword, and I will die by it. I have no illusions about my chances of growing old.

{{GM}}Gaichu shakes his head in dismissal.{{/GM}}

How would I live out my days? In a rural country village, eating people who happened to expire on nearby roads? That will not be my fate.
Are you referring to these?

{{GM}}Gaichu gestures to some of the discolorations and nodules around his neck and scalp.{{/GM}}

They look gruesome, but they seem to be as much a part of ghoul physiology as horns and dermal deposits are for trolls.
What "deal" are you referring to?
Did you file them down into those points?
No. They are actually new teeth, created by the infection.

I suppose it is a natural advantage to have teeth better suited for carnivorous pursuits.
As you wish. What is on your mind?
{{GM}}Gaichu grins broadly, leaning toward you. He gestures at his face, drawing the backs of his claws down one cheek.{{/GM}}

Surely you are joking. Look at this fearsome visage! Why, mount this over your front door, and you can be certain no unwanted guests will ever stop by.

Probably not any wanted ones, either!
{{GM}}Gaichu bursts out laughing, slapping his knee.{{/GM}}

I can see it now! Eight thousand nuyen an ounce for powdered ghoul bones! Guaranteed to cure rheumatism and arthritis, and to balance the flow of blood in your liver.
Ahh. Yes. I do recall you asking about that.

{{GM}}Gaichu's reticence is palpable in the long silence that follows. He does not continue.{{/GM}}
Is something the matter?
You said that if I came back later, you'd tell me what happened.
If you don't want to talk about it, we don't have to.
No, I...

{{GM}}Gaichu purses his lips and sighs heavily.{{/GM}}

No, everything is fine. I will tell you what you wish to know. I simply have not spoken of my family in a long time.
Are you close?
Bad memories?
Sounds like you may not have gotten along.
Not any longer. I have not seen my father for many years now. Nor my mother or sister.

I wish I could say that I missed them, but I feel that I hardly know them, after so many years apart.
Yasujiro gave me an ultimatum after my run-in with Shiawase security. He told me that he had cut a backroom deal with a rival in Shiawase, to keep me out of prison. The charges would be suspended if I finished high school and studied at Kyoto University, with the intent of joining Renraku.

If I did not, Shiawase would take me into custody, and I would spend time in prison.
What did that cost him?
I'm surprised he cut a deal at all.
Typical corporate politics at work. The rich protecting each other.
I have no idea. He refused to reveal what he had been forced to do in exchange, but I cannot imagine it was cheap.

Insider information, perhaps? A deliberately botched contract? Yasujiro was a manager in the water and power division, so the deal would have been lucrative but not secret.
I had always taken my family for granted. Raised in a Renraku family, going to Renraku schools, I always had a sense of *place.* Of belonging where I was. The thought of all of that vanishing... I simply could not imagine it.

Suddenly, the reality of my actions became clear.
{{GM}}Gaichu runs his fingers over his bald scalp, smiling distantly.{{/GM}}

From then on, I tried to be the son he wanted, and he seemed glad of it. We grew much closer over the next few years.

He took time off to visit me, when I was living in Kyoto.
Why would that be unusual?
He was a very busy man, in those days. A lot of responsibility, and very little time for himself. I was impressed that he could carve off as much time as he did, just to go camping with his son.
Camping doesn't seem like a very Japanese pastime.
A lot of nice wilderness in that part of Japan, I bet.
I hate camping. All those bugs and dirt.
It is more popular than you would think. There is less open physical space in Japan than in North American nations, but most of Japan is still undeveloped.

The steep mountains and valleys make construction outside of the flatlands prohibitively expensive, and the area around Kyoto is protected from development.
We made several trips to the area between Kyoto and Nara, around the village of Ide. We camped in the mountains above it.

We would hunt wild deer and boar there, using my family's antique arquebus.
That's a strange choice of weapon.
Wouldn't something more modern be better?
It is a choice of expediency. It is nearly impossible for a private citizen to own a firearm in Japan, which is why you may so often read of yakuza attacks involving swords and cleavers.

As the tanegashima that my family owns is from the 18th century, it is exempt from ordinary regulations.
{{GM}}Gaichu chuckles softly to himself.{{/GM}}

Perhaps ironically, hunting with my father is how I learned to prepare raw meat. Strange to think that this inadvertently prepared me for my current state of affairs.
So how do you do prepare it?
I really don't want to hear about that.
Soak the meat in brined water, and simmer it at a low heat for several hours. Let it cool, and repeat the process over several days. It cannot get too hot, or I am unable to eat it. This process brings out the collagen in the meat.

When it is done, I spice it with ginger and sansho pepper. Again, not too much: mundane food is anathema to me.
{{GM}}Sighing happily, Gaichu stares off into the distance. When he looks back, he smiles broadly at you.{{/GM}}

Those were good days. I am sorry I cannot go back to those times. When one joins the Red Samurai, one must give up all attachments of one's previous life. The company, the code, and the unit become the entirety of your world.
Even your family ties have to be cut?
That's an incredible amount of focus.
Especially those. Anything that could distract you from a mission must be purged. Commitment to the unit and the company must be total.
Applicants must be human, Japanese, and utterly devoted to Renraku. Your unit becomes your family - your commander is your father and mother, your teammates your siblings.

Red Samurai are not allowed to reveal our identities and position to anyone outside the special operations group. Even if we wanted friends outside the unit, we could not have them.
It is. That is why the selection process is so rigorous, and so many fail. There is no shame in failing - simply being allowed to participate in the test is a mark of excellence.
{{GM}}Gaichu laughs, slapping one knee in amusement.{{/GM}}

I will not bore you with the details, if you are uninterested in how it is done.
Definitely, but the law still prohibits firearms ownership by private individuals. The tanegashima has been in my family's possession since the 18th century, and it is exempt from the law due to special classification.
Very much so. The land around Kyoto is protected from development, due to historical and cultural significance. Most of the mountains are considered sacred, so the Diet declared them a national preserve.
{{GM}}Gaichu smiles, waving an open hand in your direction.{{/GM}}

To each their own. While I have lived in cities all my life, it is only because that is where work has forced me to be. Given a choice, I would much prefer to settle in a rural area. It gives one space to breathe.
On some level, I am as well. Those sorts of deals are made all the time between middle managers who compete across corporations, but they are always frowned upon. Usually, they are also illegal.

I think I took him for granted, before that day.
That is one perspective. I prefer to think of it as a man protecting the son that he loved, because his son was stupid and thoughtless. This was the act of a man harming his company to protect his family.

I do not think that is a common quality, in these times.
No. Quite good ones, actually. I haven't seen Yasujiro in many years, but that is my fault. We may not have seen eye to eye when I was young, but we came to an understanding.

Eventually.
Not when I was younger, no. But we came to an understanding, eventually.

It simply took some time to get there. Longer than he would have liked, I suspect.
{{GM}}Gaichu sighs heavily, nodding.{{/GM}}

I have given you my word, and I intend to keep it. Do not be concerned. I simply have not spoken of my family in a long time.
Ahh. A fair question, given my youthful indiscretions.

{{GM}}Gaichu leans back, his blind eyes turned toward the ceiling.{{/GM}}

Are you familiar with the Kempeitai?
No. What's that?
{{CC}}Etiquette: Academic{{/CC}} Aren't they the Japanese political police?
The Kempeitai are the political arm of the Japanese military. Much like the commissars of the Soviet Union, they are responsible for enforcing political and social orthodoxy.

This is not just within the army, mind you. They also enforce certain laws with regards to the general populace.
When I was enrolled at Kyoto University, I studied global security and political science. It is the major generally used as a gateway to private security postings with both government and corporate militaries. I knew I wanted to fight - I was a young man, and my blood was always up.

One of the requirements was that students join the Youth Brigade Kempeitai.
The Youth Brigade is a bit like the ROTC in North America, the Young Falcons in the Sioux Nation, or the District Officer program in the Republic of Korea. Members learn to be soldiers without actually joining an army. They perform community service and promote civic pride.

Performance and prestige in the Kempeitai used to dictate later job opportunities, a bit like a good internship.
Did you enjoy it?
You have to be a good fascist to get a good job?
Seems like the kind of thing Renraku would look favorably upon.
Not at first. Later, it became... pleasant. Power is a heady thing, especially for a youth who has few superiors to answer to.

We developed a sense of superiority over others and began to abuse our power. I believe that may have been part of the point.
Surely they wanted you to use your power responsibly?
Did they want you to feel superior?
Quite the opposite. They wanted to engender those feelings of superiority, and to encourage the Youth Brigade to see themselves as above the common citizens.

The state is above the individual, and as instruments of the state, we were taught that we were, as well.
We did as we were taught. Such is the way of authority on the young.

{{GM}}Gaichu shrugs indifferently.{{/GM}}
What kind of things did you do?
Do you regret getting involved with the Youth Brigade?
What's done is done. It's in the past.
The details do not matter overmuch. Forced our way into homes under false pretenses to intimidate families. We encouraged children to inform on their parents. Accepted bribes to look the other way, if we were in the mood - or had people arrested for said bribery, if we were not.

Petty behavior, but such things were encouraged.
{{GM}}Gaichu cocks his head quizzically.{{/GM}}

No, why? It was a necessary step in my plans for my future, even if some of the behaviors that we were involved in were distasteful. The state of the nation was such that those kinds of behaviors were legal, and condoned.
I think I read about some Germans who tried to use that defense, once.
Are you saying that the ends justify the means?
You had a goal, and had to do things to achieve it. Makes sense.
I believe I have read that story as well. But I think you misapply the lesson.

In Nuremberg, those on trial had perpetrated crimes against other nations. The Youth Brigade act only internally to Japan.
That's an awfully thin defense.
Is it that really any better?
Perhaps. History will exonerate or condemn me. But for now, all I know is that I did what I had to.
If it is not, be prepared to condemn any nation that has ever existed. This world is propped up by a million invisible tyrannies, from the overt crimes of the megacorporations to the casual bigotry of the corner store owner.

I do not have time or energy to tilt at all of those windmills.
No. I am saying that it is very difficult for outsiders to judge a society's peculiarities objectively, unless they know what it is like to live in that society.

History can condemn or exonerate me, but all I know for certain is that I did what was required of me.
Yes, precisely so.

The road to what one desires is rarely straight and narrow.
{{GM}}Gaichu inclines his head toward you.{{/GM}}

This is my feeling as well. At the time, behaving in that way was appropriate. Now, it is not.
Yes. I believe that the purpose of the Youth Brigade is to teach students to glorify the group over the individual - already a strong concept in Japanese culture.

In so doing, the students are prepared for the realities of their future relationship with a corporation.
That is an indelicate way to put it, but... yes.

I believe the purpose of the Youth Brigade is to teach students to glorify the state over the self.
When I was in school, the megacorporations looked favorably on Youth Brigade service. At the time, the interests of the Emperor and the corporations were aligned - a grand drive to return Japanese industry to the forefront of the world economy.

Good marks from your Youth Brigade commander were a sure sign that you would be offered a good position with corporate security. And I wanted to be the best.
Were you?
That seems like a natural desire for a student.
Boring. I'd rather have fun than be the best.
These days, the megacorporations have begun to resist that kind of nationalism in favor of corporate pride. Youth Brigade service is becoming a black mark, rather than a positive.

{{GM}}Gaichu shifts, resting his elbows on his knees as he leans forward.{{/GM}}

I do not know if the alternative is any better, though.
When I was nearing graduation, I was approached by a recruiter with Renraku security. She told me I came from a good family, and could have a promising career with the company.

She offered to fast-track my application toward a potential Red Samurai position - three years with the Renraku military as a junior officer, and guaranteed placement in a Red Samurai training billet of my choosing.
The pay was good, and the excitement of being an elite was an attractive proposition. I accepted, but I did not truly understand what I was signing up for. As I told you before, they force you to give up everything except the company and unit.

That was made clear to me, but I did not truly *understand* it.
So what happened?
Did you regret your decision?
Exactly what you would expect happened. I signed the contract, and became a soldier in Renraku's army. I was physically fit, at the top of my class, and it seemed inevitable I would see my desires fulfilled.

{{GM}}Gaichu raps two knuckles on his breastplate.{{/GM}}

Obviously, I succeeded.
The training was extremely difficult, both mentally and physically. I knew that I would be isolated from my old life, but I did not anticipate the full extent of that isolation.

All Red Samurai recruits report to a facility called the Forge, in Chiba. You are assigned a unit - you and four other recruits - and for the next two years, the Forge will be your home and prison.
{{GM}}Shaking his head wistfully, Gaichu snorts.{{/GM}}

It seems ridiculous, in retrospect - we were all so young. None of us had any idea what we were doing, except trying to become the best soldiers in the world. And yet those strangers became my new family, in the absence of the old.
On the whole? No. I do not know who I would have been, had I not joined. Perhaps there are things that I miss, but regret is perpetual. One is always tempted to ask "what if," but that is a trap.

{{GM}}Gaichu raps two knuckles on his breastplate.{{/GM}}

This is who I became. The armor was my protection and my identity.
{{GM}}He rolls his shoulders indifferently.{{/GM}}

Not at the time, but I was very close. I focused on my studies and my physical training to the exclusion of a social life. But I knew if I kept working, I would be good enough to get a post of my choosing.
Every child who grows up in a Renraku family hears stories of the Red Samurai. They were the "heroic" cartoons and toy lines we were exposed to from childhood. They protected the families and interests of loyal Renraku citizens.

{{GM}}Gaichu grins crookedly, shaking his head.{{/GM}}

Propaganda, of course. But effective propaganda.
Of course. I had a chance to apply myself in a field I enjoyed. And if I did not succeed, Shiawase would have me back in a prison cell before I could snap my fingers.
{{GM}}Gaichu inclines his head politely.{{/GM}}

Of course. As I said before, the path of the elite warrior is not for everyone.
Mmm, yes. Much like the commissars of the Soviet Union, they are responsible for enforcing political and social orthodoxy.

Not only concerned with the army, the Kempeitai also enforce certain laws with regards to the general populace.
It's my understanding that they're a gestapo.
Seems like a useful thing to have, to ensure national pride.
That is not entirely accurate, but it is more correct than not. It is an organization with little oversight, broad powers, and simple recruitment methods.

As such, power tends to get the better of most members.
That is exactly what the Emperor told the nation when they were reactivated in 2036. He said, "In uncertain times and an era of great change, we must remember what it is to be Japanese."

In practice, they are usually petty thugs.
{{GM}}Gaichu wrinkles his nose as if smelling something foul.{{/GM}}

That chapter of my life is over and done with, and they are no longer part of my world. Why would you care about any of that?
If they're still hunting you, I need to know about them.
If I understand how you were trained, I can make better use of your skills.
You said they became your surrogate family. That's important.
{{GM}}He stares at you for a long, silent moment. Finally, he grunts.{{/GM}}

Very well. That is a fair point.
{{GM}}Gaichu looks down at his hands, picking something out from beneath one claw. He continues to look at his hands while he speaks.{{/GM}}

When I was younger, I would have more readily cut off my fingers than tell you what you ask. You must understand that secrecy is absolute, among the Red Samurai.
Your identity becomes secret, erased from any database that might connect you to the Red Samurai. You use only your code name when in the field, and your given name is known only to your commanders and your unit.

Even other Red Samurai units have no idea who you really are.
{{GM}}Finally looking up from his hands, Gaichu leans back against the boxes.{{/GM}}

Contact with the outside world is cut off completely. Even once training is over, your communications are restricted. Maintaining relationships outside of those you work with is frowned upon.
That sounds horribly isolating.
Why do they do that?
That's a lot of stress. What if a recruit can't take it?
By design, it is. It forces recruits to bond with their unit, and transfer every emotion they have for their old friends and family to the unit that they must work with.

If there is a tighter bond among any other special forces units, I would be surprised.
Red Samurai units are always five members, one of whom is a spellcaster. During training, each member takes turns being commander; the most competent is given the billet permanently upon graduation.
Why don't they assign a more seasoned commander?
That seems like a good way to ensure everybody has a fair shot at it.
The way I have heard it, they worried that it would lead to the commander thinking of the unit as an asset to be used, rather than a family to protect. That they would see themselves as "above" the team.

I have no idea if that is true or not, but that is what I have heard.
Ishida was our commander. He came from a rich family in Saitama - the kind of family where he was given every advantage possible, with the expectation that he would keep the family name prestigious.

He was older than the rest of us, as he'd already spent six years in the army. A very severe man, rarely given to humor.
Takagawa was usually the second in command. As our designated marksman, he tended to have a better tactical view of how an operation should be run, simply because he needed to study the terrain more.

He loved to get us laughing. Without him, I think I would have gone crazy in the first few months.
Our mage's name was Sasaki. She had been in training as a miko - an apprentice priestess - when her magic began to manifest. She was in the unit for the challenge, and for the money. Her family had always been poor, and they had always told her she would never amount to anything.

I think she had joined the Red Samurai just to prove to them that she could do anything she wanted.
My kind of attitude, I admit.
Sounds like she may have been overcompensating.
Was she hard to work with?
{{GM}}Gaichu cocks his head, amused.{{/GM}}

I am unsurprised to hear it. You and Sasaki share similar attitudes: neither of you stops to consider *if* your goals are attainable. You simply know that they *are.*
Our heavy gunner's name was Aomori. He kept the team honest with itself - he never had a disparaging word for anyone, but would not hesitate to call someone out for their behavior. Sasaki loved that about him - really, she loved all of him. The two were discreet, but discretion only goes so far in such a small team.

Still, we respected their privacy where possible.
Is that kind of thing allowed?
That seems like a recipe for disaster.
If the unit commander allows it, yes. We were given incredibly wide leeway in what to allow or forbid in our unit, the belief being that results were the only thing that mattered. If the unit failed, it would fail as a whole.

Sasaki and Aomori were crazy about each other, and it would have done more harm to keep them apart.
Lastly, there was me. I was the close quarters and breaching expert - the first man in the door when we had to clear a room. I was the perfectionist on the team.

Aomori could get us to do anything, but I was the one who made certain we did it *well.* With *style.*
What, you made them practice harder or something?
If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing well. If that thing is also your duty, it is worth doing perfectly. Many times, we would perform a drill or exercise "well enough" - but that was not good enough, if I had to trust my life to it.

That was why we became one of the best teams in the organization's history.
It sounds like you miss them.
That's a thing to be proud of.
{{GM}}Gaichu growls, his tone annoyed.{{/GM}}

Of course I do! They were my family for eight years. Who wouldn't miss that? That sense of belonging and shared values?
Even if I were to be cured, I could never go back. They have been disgraced, and I have done unforgivable things.

I have been cast out for good.
Are you sure? Maybe it's not as final as you think.
{{GM}}Gaichu closes his eyes, sighing through his nose.{{/GM}}

When they ambushed me in Fukuoka, it was fight or die. I killed two of them before I escaped.

I will not be returning to the unit, no matter what.
{{GM}}He opens his eyes after a moment, shoulders slumping.{{/GM}}

It is not an easy memory to grapple with.
Why not now?
That's fine, Gaichu. Take your time.
I need to process the emotions. It was nearly a year ago, but... it still feels as raw as if it were yesterday.

I am tired. Come back later, and we can talk more.
Thank you, $(l.name). I am sorry I cannot talk about it now, but... I need to process the emotions. They are still raw.

I am tired. Come back later, and we can talk more.
Of course it is! Do you think I do not know that?

{{GM}}Gaichu sighs heavily.{{/GM}}

I apologize. It is just that those feelings are still raw, sometimes.
Under ordinary circumstances, it could have. But Red Samurai unit commanders are given incredible leeway in what to allow or forbid. The belief is that the unit should fail or succeed as a whole. To that end, "whatever works" is the guiding principle.

Aomori and Sasaki would have been miserable if we kept them apart, and it would have hurt the team.
If she was, it was for the good of the team. I have never met anyone so focused on their goals, or so certain that they would achieve them. She was a remarkable woman.
{{GM}}Gaichu smiles distantly.{{/GM}}

No, actually. Quite the opposite. She was excellent at encouraging us to go above and beyond what we thought ourselves capable of. I think part of her secret was that she never actually questioned if she could accomplish any of her goals. She simply assumed that it was inevitable.
{{GM}}Gaichu nods, propping himself up on one knee.{{/GM}}

It is. By rotating who has command duties, we were able to see very quickly who had the mind and personality to lead the team, and who was more comfortable following.
It forces new recruits to bond more tightly than in any other military unit. Every emotion a recruit has for their old friends and family is transferred to the unit.

In a very real way, you are required to love your teammates.
Very few recruits get to this point if they cannot handle it. We all underwent stringent psychological tests prior to this point.

If a recruit cannot handle it, he and the rest of his unit are failed out of the program. The rationale is simple: if one member cannot take the training and his unit cannot carry him through, they have all failed.
I can see you will not be dissuaded.

{{GM}}He shrugs in acceptance.{{/GM}}

Very well. I suppose it is a small thing to tell you.
Hrm. You make a wise point. Commanders should know their soldiers as well as they know themselves.

Very well.
If there is anything else I can do for you, please let me know.
Certainly.

{{GM}}Gaichu folds his hands in his lap, nodding his head toward a nearby pile of boxes.{{/GM}}

I would offer you a place to sit, but I fear I only have boxes.
Reading a book, actually. The pins press up from the reader, each syllable or character scrolling from cell to cell on the surface. It takes some practice, but once you get the knack down, it is simple.

I suppose I could have the book read to me, but I prefer reading it this way.
{{GM}}Gaichu has returned to reading, but plucks his fingers from the braille board as you enter.{{/GM}}

Welcome back. What may I do for you?
The cabin is silent aside from the occasional swish of air as Gaichu steps through sword forms. He holds each stance for a few seconds, practicing a given swing a few times before switching to the next.
Hello, $(l.name).

{{GM}}A single bead of sweat rolls down Gaichu's temple as he holds his position. After a few moments, he shifts to a relaxed stance, starting the form again.{{/GM}}

Pardon me for continuing my exercises. I feel that I have been letting them slip, of late.
Don't you ever stop practicing?
You worried you're getting rusty?
No. I aim to achieve perfection, and I must work against my current handicap to regain the level of control that I once possessed.

I am stronger and faster than I once was, but I need to learn to use my new senses more effectively in order to bring those advantages to bear.
{{GM}}Gaichu lifts his sword, offering it edge first toward you.{{/GM}}

Do you see that edge? Forged by one of the finest swordsmiths in modern Japan. Diamond-coated edge, capable of cutting even the most hardened ceramic armors. But what good is a sharpened edge without the precision to apply it?
When I was still a man, I could have cut a single pea in half with my eyes closed. Oddly, after becoming blind, I cannot replicate this feat.

{{GM}}Running the back of a claw along the blade's surface, Gaichu smiles thinly.{{/GM}}

I think soon I will be able to perform this feat again. I simply have to train my body to ignore the senses that it no longer has, and pay attention to the new ones.
Now...

What is it that you would like to discuss?
Has it been difficult to learn to fight while blind?
Tell me about when your old unit ambushed you.
If you killed two of them, why are they still hunting you?
What does "perfecting yourself" mean to you, anyway?
So what will you do about your unit when they come looking for you in Hong Kong?
That's all I need right now, Gaichu.
It is not the easiest thing I have attempted, but neither is it the hardest.

{{GM}}Placing his sword off to one side, Gaichu turns to face you.{{/GM}}

"Emptiness is form" is one of the great lessons of the "Hagakure." Train sufficiently, and both swordsmanship and obedience will come instinctively. That is the closest to perfection a man can attain.
I don't put a whole lot of stock in being obedient.
Does that mean that in a perfect world, you would have killed yourself when you got infected?
{{GM}}Gaichu feigns surprise.{{/GM}}

A lawless shadowrunner, have problems with authority? My goodness. I never would have guessed such a thing to be the case.
When I was new to the unit, I thought that to be a good samurai was the ultimate goal. That to serve justly with dedication was the greatest honor a warrior could have.

We were all young and foolish once, I suppose.
There's probably a place for that kind of obedience, somewhere.
That kind of ideology only serves the powerful.
So what changed your mind?
Certainly. Those that join the Red Samurai are universally the sort to seek a rigid hierarchy to live within. If I had not become infected, I never would have questioned it.

As it was, I still did not question it until my unit ambushed me in Fukuoka.
We were taught that we were superior to everyone - that since we were pure humans, and Japanese, we would always win. I believe that most never question the validity of this claim, even when confronted with direct evidence to the contrary.
There are those that require a rigid structure and hierarchy, in order to prosper. For them, that kind of regimented life is for the best - and it is no surprise that they serve the powerful. What are the Red Samurai, if not an organization pledged to serve the elite?

I had thought it was such for me as well, until the ambush in Fukuoka.
Beyond my disease?

There was a fight in Fukuoka; my former team ambushed me. It had a singular effect on my worldview.
If an order should be unjust or foolish, it should not be followed. To waste a skilled warrior, as they would have by killing me... it is unacceptable.

Obedience without a thought is to be cultivated, but so is the moral fortitude to know when to disagree.
Very well.

{{GM}}Gaichu draws his nails over his scalp, sighing.{{/GM}}

My time in Fukuoka was tense. Since leaving Keihanshin, I had been careful to stay out of sight by moving on foot or in the back of automated delivery vans. I was running out of food, however, and needed to be in a city for that.
Fukuoka is just big enough to get lost in, but not so large that a ghoul sighting could go unnoticed. I hid in abandoned buildings and storm drainage systems, and for two weeks I managed to stay hidden.

The strain of having to constantly move was wearing on me, however. I made a mistake.
I had to get out of Japan, but all of my contacts in Fukuoka had come up empty-handed when I asked for a way to China. I was running low on money, and I could feel the team catching up with me.

A contact of mine in Kumamoto owed me a favor, and arranged passage for me if I could reach the city in forty-eight hours.
{{GM}}Gaichu closes his eyes, resting his face in one palm.{{/GM}}

If I had taken my time, I could have made it to Kumamoto without incident. But I let caution slip when I got his email. I thought that if I disguised myself, I could take the train there - get out before my unit got any closer to finding me.
I still don't know how they found me. Magical tracking, perhaps - or simply a well-developed spy network.

Regardless, they found me. They were waiting for me at Hakata Station. It was an ambush.
What did they do?
That's a very public place for an ambush.
I had taken steps to disguise myself as best I could, relying on the sheer number of people to conceal my presence. I suspected that the team might attack while I was in public, but I did not realize just how expendable the civilians were.

When they blew the C-4 charges over the station's western entrance just to box me in, I realized how much I had underestimated them.
I assumed that a train had derailed, honestly. But then I smelled the telltale acrid vapor of the explosives.

{{GM}}Gaichu wrinkles his nose at the memory.{{/GM}}

Once you smell it, you never forget. The plastic explosive that we used has a particularly sharp odor, like old cheese. Something to do with an olfactory taggant added to help track it if it is stolen.
I remember stumbling through the dust and debris, trying to find my way to the rail platforms. They attacked from all sides, using the confusion to strike at once. I could hear Ishida and Takagawa behind me.

Aomori and Sasaki charged out of an access corridor just ahead of where I had been standing. Sasaki threw a fire wall down behind me, cutting off retreat while Aomori started firing.
Sounds like you didn't have much choice but to defend yourself.
That's a nasty situation to be caught in.
{{GM}}Gaichu nods, lips pursed.{{/GM}}

Yes. That is so.

Training took over - I knew I had to survive, and I was not thinking of anything but survival. So I charged Sasaki and Aomori.
They were only fifteen meters away from me. The only advantage I had was that they were as blinded by the dust as I was - but I could still hear and smell them. Sasaki threw a lightning bolt at me, but I managed to roll under it. As I came up, Aomori's light machine gun was swivelling down.

I felt time stretch out as I stared down the barrel.
I caught Aomori in the throat with the tip of my sword. It was a maneuver I'd practiced hundreds of times before. There was no resistance as I cut through his trachea, and he fell as I rolled to the side. I could hear him choking for breath as he dropped.

{{GM}}Gaichu exhales a humorless laugh, and shakes his head.{{/GM}}

It is strange to think how clear that memory is, even now.
He was your friend. That kind of thing will stick with you.
When the adrenaline is pumping, you form memories with more clarity.
What's done is done. You survived. That's what matters.
{{GM}}Gaichu snorts, waving a hand dismissively.{{/GM}}

Spare me the two-nuyen psychiatry. Obviously, what you say is true... But the memory sticks with me so strongly for another reason. It was in that strike that I realized who I truly was.
My whole time with the Red Samurai, I had focused on ensuring that I was worthy of the team. Everyone felt that way, but I felt it more acutely than most. I have always wanted to be the best. The fastest. The most precise.

In the Red Samurai, I felt that to be less than perfect would be to let the team down. We were always told how lucky we were, to have been accepted into the unit.
The moment my sword struck Aomori, I knew that I would survive the fight. They attacked me as they would an animal - they seemed to be counting on herding me into Takagawa and Ishida. Aomori didn't even try to get out of the way of my sword strike.

I recall his eyes going wide. He looked surprised that I was using a weapon and not my claws.
They underestimated you.
That's a fatal mistake.
{{GM}}Gaichu nods sharply.{{/GM}}

They thought they were fighting a beast. I would never had underestimated them as they did me. All the lessons I taught them about close combat, thrown out the window as soon as their preconceptions entered the battlefield. Disgraceful.

As I killed Aomori, I realized that it was not that I was unworthy of the Red Samurai... but that they were unworthy of me.
What did it mean that I, an infected monster that was less than a beast, could still defeat the finest soldiers in the world? Red Samurai doctrine taught Aomori and the others not to fear me, and this overconfidence would be their death.

I realized I had progressed beyond their ability to understand. My sword was as accurate as ever, but they could not account for it due to ideological blindness.
That's the danger of letting ideology overrule facts.
You think becoming a ghoul made you a better warrior?
Other units wouldn't have made that mistake.
Precisely. All those years, I was worried I was not good enough to be a member of the Red Samurai - that somehow they had been pulling my weight. But I had been blind to all of the ways in which we were not training, or had avoided the harsh truths about our own abilities.

We were so often told of our own excellence that I wondered if we had ever truly been tested.
Sasaki was the next to fall. As I turned away from Aomori, I realized she must have seen me strike him. Her eyes were wide, and I could feel her fear and anger as she tried to summon another spell.

She seemed caught between healing Aomori and attacking me.
{{GM}}Gaichu taps himself on the forehead, just above his right eye.{{/GM}}

It was there, on Sasaki. A downward stroke, from jodan stance. She had hesitated, just as Aomori had.

I felt the breath go out of her, like someone had deflated a tire. She just slid down into a pile. I think she was trying to ask me how, when I ran.
What about Ishida and Takagawa?
Did you stay and fight?
My goal was survival, not victory. Takagawa was too far away, and I did not see Ishida - I only smelled him. So I ran. The trains had been shut down due to the explosion, but as long as I could get out of Hakata Station, I knew I could escape.
They did not follow me out into the city proper. From what I heard via the Matrix, the event was reported as a terrorist attack that was thwarted by brave Renraku soldiers.

{{GM}}Gaichu snorts, lips curling downward.{{/GM}}

Brave, foolish soldiers.
Can you deny it? I could fight as well as when I was a man, but with eyes that had been opened to the hypocrisy of what Renraku had taught us.

They taught us the lessons that made us useful tools. They do not want independent soldiers, but obedient ones.
Perhaps not. But that is what I mean: Renraku told us so often of our excellence, yet also taught us to discount the strength and cunning of non-humans.

I could no longer define myself by my association with them, as it was apparent that I had surpassed them. This was not a mistake I would have made.
Certainly, that is true. But I remember that strike so clearly for an entirely different reason.

It was in that strike that I realized who I truly was.
{{GM}}Gaichu leans toward you, expression intense.{{/GM}}

Exactly. In that strike, I learned that lesson - and realized who I truly was, as well.
One of the worst. Confined space, facing a mage and a heavy gunner? Those are losing odds, even if the attackers are ordinary mercenaries.

I did the only thing I could think of: I charged Aomori and Sasaki.
It is. I suspect their orders were clear, however: do whatever it takes to kill me. Civilians expendable.

For units like the Red Samurai, ordinary laws do not apply. The mission's success is the only concern.
"Dangerous" does not express even half of it. It was during rush hour - the station was packed with civilians, but my teammates did not care. For a Red Samurai, success is the only criterion that matters. If I was dead, it would not matter how that came to pass.
{{GM}}Gaichu does not answer immediately. He seems uneasy with the question, fidgeting with his fingers.{{/GM}}

I am unsure why that would make a difference. Can you explain what you are driving at?
The unit's down three members. Why not give up on you?
If you train with your unit so extensively, won't it be impossible to replace the ones you killed?
Ahh. I see. I think your mistake is in seeing this from a practical perspective. The problem is emotional, not mechanical.

{{GM}}Folding his arms over his chest, Gaichu continues to explain.{{/GM}}
The nature of Red Samurai assignments is such that losses are generally zero, or the entire team. In those rare cases when Red Samurai teams suffer partial losses, the remnants of the impacted teams are shuffled together and undergo re-training.

Sasaki and Aomori will undoubtedly be replaced. The problem is that *I* cannot be replaced.
Simply put, I am not dead. Ordinarily, a missing Red Samurai would be considered "dead" for purposes of reorganizing teams - but Renraku knows precisely what has happened to me.

What's more, my failure to do my duty reflects badly on the unit. Others will undoubtedly resist joining my former squad, as it has been "tainted."
That's a strange way to organize a military unit.
So until they kill you, nobody wants to join their club?
Now I see why they won't stop hunting you.
{{GM}}Gaichu inclines his head, expression impassive.{{/GM}}

I can see how it might seem that way from the outside. Part of what makes the Red Samurai fearsome is that they do not believe they can lose. Establishing a strong "esprit de corps" through this kind of unusual organization is part of the mystique.
They have hunted me in Japan, Shanghai, and Beijing, and now I am certain they hunt me here in Hong Kong. The cycle will continue endlessly for the foreseeable future.

Such is the way of things.
You sound as trapped in the past as they are.
Wouldn't it be easier if you faced them down, rather than run?
That's an awfully passive way of handling it.
What do you mean by that? They have been hunting *me* - I am simply trying to make a new life for myself.

I fail to see how this is my doing.
You're capable of striking back at them. Why aren't more of them dead?
You're simply letting them come after you. Take the fight to them.
One way or another, this will end with either you or them dead. You've got to take action.
{{GM}}Gaichu's expression darkens, and he folds his arms over his chest.{{/GM}}

You think our battles have not been in earnest? You believe that I should have been more efficient in defending myself?
If you're as good as you claim, you should have been able to finish this by now.
You define yourself by your opposition to your old life.
I think sentimentality has left you unable to finish them off.
Oh, of course. Because combat is a binary - you are either capable of defeating all opponents, or none of them.

{{GM}}Gaichu sneers, baring his teeth in scorn.{{/GM}}

Rank foolishness. I have done my utmost to end their lives.
In Fukuoka, you had a chance to finish them. You chose to run.
You know their skills and training. You have the advantage over them.
{{GM}}Gaichu looks about to retort in anger, but holds his tongue. With a deep breath, he purses his lips.{{/GM}}

You are not incorrect about this. At the time, however, I thought it was safer to run.
I seek to perfect myself, my skills, and my abilities in combat. Perhaps this is not the path I would have walked when I was younger, but I have been a soldier for so long that I cannot imagine devoting myself to any other trade.

This does not mean I am tied inextricably to my unit - it simply means I am shaped by my history. As are we all.
I appreciate your concern about my history and my unit, but I assure you, I am doing all right. I must learn to adapt to my new condition and lifestyle on my own.

The time will come when they find me in Hong Kong
Hrm. What you say is true. They can track me down, but I always have the advantage of knowing the terrain. I can, in a general way, set the terms of the engagement.

{{GM}}Narrowing his eyes, Gaichu seems to consider this in earnest.{{/GM}}
What...?

{{GM}}Blinking a few times, Gaichu leans closer to you.{{/GM}}

I am unsure that I clearly understand your meaning. Can you explain yourself more clearly?
Think about it. You get to live as the ronin Red Samurai, unfairly cast out by his unit.
Ahh. And you believe that absent that opposition, I would have little to define myself?

That is very cheap philosophy, $(l.name), and unworthy of you.
Prove me wrong. Who are you, without your unit?
What have you accomplished, other than simply surviving?
{{GM}}Drawing himself up and puffing out his chest, Gaichu glares at you.{{/GM}}

You tell me. What do you see? I am the creature that stands in front of you - what is it that I am, in your opinion?
That's a cop-out answer and you know it.
A free man, who can choose to live as he pleases.
A shadowrunner. Just like the rest of us.
And your insistence upon labels is a weakness. Why must you name a thing in order to understand it?

You claim I am nothing without my unit, yet you cannot answer a simple question.
I am. I exist. That is the truth and sum total of meaning in it. There exists no objective, external force to impose meaning and value upon our lives.

How I choose to survive is a facet of my life, but it is not the totality of it.
Yes. That is what I am.

So why is it that you do not accept that this is what I am doing?
I suppose that is a facet of who I am, yes. I sell my services for money, and they are of a particularly niche nature.

Why, then, do you insist that I am trapped in the past?
Shadowrunners defend themselves against threats, rather than run away.
In this business, you either cut off an enemy's ability to hurt you, or you get killed.
That is sometimes true. Yet shadowrunners also know when a threat is overwhelming, and refuse to engage in battle on the enemy's terms.

If this were not true, you would not be here on this boat.
I can understand that line of reasoning, yes. But by the same token, if an enemy is an overwhelming threat, you are always certain to retreat.

Some fights cannot - should not - be fought in the open.
Ahh, yes. Because I am such a weak-willed soldier of fortune that I cannot bear the idea of killing the last vestiges of my old life.

{{GM}}His tone is mocking as he spits his next words.{{/GM}}

Certainly, that is more likely than the battles simply not going in my favor.
It doesn't have to be a conscious decision. You're avoiding an all-or-nothing confrontation.
So after killing Sasaki and Aomori, why didn't you finish the others on the team?
{{GM}}Gaichu is halfway through pointing an accusatory finger at you, but stops short as you speak.{{/GM}}

There may be... some truth to what you say. I had not considered that my instinct to flee may be subconscious.
I told you, my goal was to survive, not to destroy the team. Your insistence on not remembering things that I have told you can be tiresome, $(l.name).
You've always chosen short-term survival over ending the threat. You wouldn't treat any other enemy that way.
{{GM}}Gaichu narrows his eyes, inhaling sharply through his nose. There is a long pause before he speaks.{{/GM}}

There is some truth to what you say.

Were they members of an Ares Firewatch team, I would have attempted to eliminate them some time ago.
{{GM}}Gaichu pulls back as if you've slapped him.{{/GM}}

What do you suggest, that I hunt them down while they sleep and murder them in cold blood?
What do you believe I have been doing?

{{GM}}Gaichu's face twists in annoyance.{{/GM}}

Certainly, I have not been allowing them to attack me out of good will.
How do you mean? I have faced them several times in the past - in Fukuoka, and in Shanghai. Unless you have a deeper meaning I am unaware of, I have already done as you suggest.
I am unsure of your meaning. Yes, they are hunting me - but they are steadfast in their attempts.

I can hardly convince them to give up.
{{GM}}Gaichu nods his assent.{{/GM}}

Yes. That is the case. They cannot move forward and rebuild the core of the unit unless I die, both because of their own expectations and the stain on their honor. Even if they accepted my decision, the rest of the Red Samurai would not.
Exactly. Until they can remove the stain on their honor, they are unable to move forward. I have trapped them in the past, and they feel that the only recourse is to take my life.

{{GM}}Gaichu spreads his hands helplessly.{{/GM}}

This is the trap of their duty.
I do not know. I am certain that sounds like an evasion, but it is not.

There is no road map for being a ghoul who is also a freelance killer. I only know that my instincts are stronger now than they were when I was an ordinary man.
Because of this, I must learn to make my own way in this world. There is no older teaching for me to reach for.

{{GM}}Gaichu suddenly cocks his head.{{/GM}}

Is this why you are concerned about my history with the Red Samurai?
It's hard to break old training, especially in times of crisis.
I just want to make sure nobody comes gunning for us while our attention is elsewhere.
Of course. I want you to make the most of your new life.
Hrm. True.

The entire purpose of extensive training is to have something to fall back upon when reason and logic fail, or one would be too slow.
I am no longer simply a man. This is a fact of my life. I am beyond that. I do not know if I am better for it, but I know that I am different for it.

The fact that I am different, however, cannot be denied.
I put a question to you, then...

If you had been changed into a ghoul, what would you do? How would you improve yourself and learn to live with your condition?
I wouldn't forget what it means to be human.
I'd make the best use of my new abilities. Change is power.
I have no idea. That's a road I can't even consider - I've never been in your position.
But I am not human - not any longer. To be a ghoul is to be as different from a human as it is to be a troll - more so, in fact, as trolls are closer to men than I am.
The changes are not only physical, as I mentioned before. My mind is more instinctive now, and reasoning is more difficult.

I tend to react quickly, without thought, but that also generally will turn the tide in my favor.
{{GM}}Gaichu squares himself, nodding several times as if agreeing with his own internal dialog.{{/GM}}

Warriors must learn to push their body and soul to the utmost limit. So too it is with me, but my body and soul are no longer that of a man. I must learn to use these differences as an advantage, rather than a handicap.
Perfection is not a destination. It is a journey. One must strive to become the purest form of oneself that one can be.
This is how I see things, as well. If I am to exceed my previous abilities, I must learn to make use of my new body, and understand its limitations.

Without that, I will simply be a shadow of who I once was.
A fair point. This is why I struggle with it. I know what I must eat, how I must live.
A fair concern, I admit.

I will take this under advisement. I do not wish this team to be harmed by my actions, or lack therein.
{{GM}}Gaichu blinks several times, his surprise evident.{{/GM}}

That is remarkably kind of you, $(l.name). Were this a year or more ago, I would not believe you. After having seen how you handled the Whampoans, however, I do.
I am unsure. You have given me a great deal to consider, and I do not mean that lightly.

There are several actions and possible outcomes I foresee.
I could, as I have before, relocate to another city. Flee Hong Kong, travel to somewhere further afield. Lagos, perhaps, or Montreal. It would have to be some place where Renraku's influence was minimal, and where the unit's presence would be immediately noticeable.

This has been my plan of action in the past.
I could also keep a low profile, staying here. Hope that they are unable to find precisely where I am hiding. Undoubtedly, Ishida would command the team to keep looking. I believe it would only be a matter of time before they found me, but if it were a sufficiently long time, they might be recalled.
I could also confront them. Draw them out into the open at a time and place of my choosing - they are nothing if not predictable in their efforts to follow Red Samurai operational doctrine.

That plan could succeed, but it could also put you and civilians at risk. And I am unsure how I would draw them out in the first place.
You need to find a way to fight them.
There's nothing wrong with hiding out.
Bide your time, and get out of Hong Kong after they get complacent.
{{GM}}Gaichu sighs, shoulders slumping a little.{{/GM}}

I am unsure if that is the wisest course of action. I am going to need to think about this a great deal.

Please, let me think on this. I will have an answer later.
Sure thing. I'll talk to you later.
Until later, my friend. Keep yourself safe.
No. That is not quite it.

Rather, I wish to learn to bring my enhanced strength and speed to bear. In order to do so, I must ensure that my blindness does not hinder me. Perfection is a journey, not a destination.
{{GM}}Gaichu pauses suddenly, turning to face you.{{/GM}}

I have just realized you do not know my real name.

Do you wish to?
What you do matters, not what name you were given.
It's safer if I don't.
Hello. Welcome back.
In the darkness of the cabin, Gaichu is hunched over a pile of keepsakes. He has unpacked most of his box, and the contents are lying strewn about the floor in a disorganized mass.

The ghoul gingerly picks through them, turning each one over in his fingers as he feels their shapes.

He addresses you without looking up.
Please mind your step, $(l.name). I fear I have made a mess, and many of my possessions are quite delicate. I would be rather upset if you were to accidentally crush any under your feet.

{{GM}}After a moment, he places the one he holds - a small ceramic statuette of Daruma - to one side. Lifting his face, he touches his brow in salute.{{/GM}}

I apologize for the mess.
Why have you got all this out on the floor?
I'll try not to step on anything.
Feeling homesick?
{{GM}}Gaichu gingerly begins collecting his things and arranging them back in the box.{{/GM}}

I am simply thinking about the chain of events that have brought me to Hong Kong.
I've been considering our talk about my former unit. About what my plans are, with regard to their incessant hunt and need for closure.

I began to think that I, too, need closure. An end not only to the hunt, but to our dance around the core issue: one of us must die, that the other might live. As it is, we are locked in stasis.
How do you plan to accomplish that?
I don't know. I still think you can hide here.
You're not going to run off to a new city?
That is the question that I have bent my mind to answering since last we spoke. It is not an easy question to answer.

My initial thought was to strike at a secure Renraku holding - something valuable enough to draw the attention of the Red Samurai - and ensure that Renraku reported that a ghoul was involved in the mission.

It turns out that was not necessary.
I began searching the Shadowland BBS for any jobs against Renraku holdings here in Hong Kong.

{{GM}}Gaichu taps his braille reader with one toe.{{/GM}}

It is surprisingly easy to use the Matrix, when you can read postings with your fingers. Slower than direct interface, but certainly possible.
I also began to offer a reward for information on Red Samurai teams known to be in the city. A modest reward - nothing that would attract too much attention, but enough to keep people interested.

{{GM}}Gaichu grins thinly, cradling his chin in one hand.{{/GM}}

This bore fruit. A Red Samurai team arrived here a short time ago, smaller than normal size.
Sounds like it could be them.
Are you sure it's not just another team?
It is definitely them. My contact described Ishida and Takagawa perfectly, as well as a new heavy gunner - most likely from another disgraced squad. What's more, he described a woman who looked exactly like Sasaki, but with a scar here, on her forehead.

{{GM}}Gaichu draws a finger down across his brow, over his right eye.{{/GM}}

Precisely where I cut her.
How are you going to draw them out?
Is this going to be a stand-up fight, then?
I expect you want to catch them off guard.
Simply put, I intend to lure the team into responding to an action they believe to be perpetrated by an ordinary shadowrunner - and ambush them.

Then, I will kill them. All of them.

Once that is done, I can be free.
I have found a job I am certain will draw a Red Samurai response. Renraku is moving a prototype drone through Hong Kong, on the way to a research facility in Chiba. It is of a new design, implementing machine learning and pseudo-intelligence.

{{GM}}Gaichu stands, smiling wryly.{{/GM}}

Something that advanced would certainly attract a Red Samurai team, should someone attempt to steal it.
How can you be certain?
What if another team responds?
Red Samurai are primarily proactive. The majority remain at the Forge until dispatched across the world. Those that are not are assigned to guard high-value locations - black laboratories, secure research facilities, and major complexes. Hong Kong has none of these, as Renraku's facilities of that type are primarily located in Taiwan.

My former unit will be the only one close enough to respond to the threat.
The Johnson for this run is a Renraku scientist escorting the drone. He wishes to leave Renraku's employ, but is unwilling to risk reprisal should he escape on his own. To put it simply, he wishes to make it look like he was killed during a robbery - hence, why he wishes the experimental drone stolen.

If there is no body, there will be no investigation into his whereabouts.
So we can kill two birds with one stone?
{{GM}}Gaichu inclines his head in agreement.{{/GM}}

Precisely.

I can rid myself of my pursuers, and he can be free of their yoke. While I owe this man no loyalty, I think I understand his sentiment. Besides, we will be receiving payment for a job.
Let me ask you some questions about the run before I agree to anything.
Sounds good to me. When do we leave?
I don't have time for this right now.
Very well.

{{GM}}Gaichu leans back on his heels, lifting his chin.{{/GM}}

What would you like to know?
How do you know it's not a trap?
How do you know the drone would rate a Red Samurai response?
Are you certain you can take them all on yourself?
All right. I know enough.
A fair question, but one with a simple answer.

Red Samurai are very risk-averse. Part of our training is to always put our lives on the line in *defense* of the company. Risking this drone in their quest for vengeance would be unthinkable.
{{GM}}Gaichu gestures at a stack of chips laying nearby.{{/GM}}

I did my own digging. The shipping schedules line up perfectly to place the drone in Hong Kong - and Red Samurai would not have the authority to fake such records, unless ordered to by their superiors.

As I am the unit's private shame, this would not become a larger corporate matter. There is no profit in killing me, for the company. Only for the unit.
Before I was infected, we escorted and guarded similar projects in the drone division. While I am unsure whether this one belongs to precisely the same research division, they are close enough to make Red Samurai involvement a certainty, in my opinion.
Drone research is one of Renraku's main advantages over larger megacorporations. Ares controls military hardware, Saeder-Krupp has their heavy industry, but Renraku is the foremost drone development company in the world. No one else even comes close.

Renraku will deploy Red Samurai to protect that advantage. Rely on it.
{{GM}}Gaichu shifts, running a hand over his bald head. He looks away, embarrassed.{{/GM}}

Well, I... Uh...

I was hoping you would help me. You and the rest of the team.
I may be able to kill them all myself. It is possible. But as I said before, I intend to give myself every possible advantage.

That includes you, Wu, Gobbet, and the rest of the team. More guns mean a higher chance of victory - and that is the proper way to lay a trap.
Good.

{{GM}}Gaichu shifts uneasily. He seems to be sniffing the air in anticipation.{{/GM}}

What, may I ask, is your decision?
As soon as you are ready. I will message Mr. Johnson and let him know that we are prepared to fake his murder, and to be ready for our arrival.

I suggest you prepare as well. The Red Samurai are excellent combatants, not to be taken lightly.
{{GM}}Gaichu's head falls, but after a moment he nods.{{/GM}}

I understand. I will forward the details to your mission computer, should you change your mind.

This opportunity will not be present forever, though. I would caution haste, if you think you would like to pursue this run.
That would be impossible. Red Samurai are stationed at research facilities, black laboratories, and other high-security areas. Renraku has no such facilities in Hong Kong at the moment, as most of their holdings of that type are in Taiwan.

My former unit will be the only one close enough to respond to the threat.
{{GM}}Gaichu cocks his head, giving you a look of confused disdain.{{/GM}}

Of course not. Why would I be interested in a fight where I did not stack the odds in my favor? I have no intention of allowing them even the slightest chance at victory.

I will set an ambush, spring it, and eliminate them. All of them.

{{GM}}Gaichu nods firmly, his expression grim.{{/GM}}

Surprise is the husband of victory. This is an essential law of combat - there is no such thing as a "fair fight." Only a fight you win, or lose.

I have no intention of allowing them to set the terms of the fight.
Yes. My contact described Ishida and Takagawa perfectly, as well as a new heavy gunner - most likely from another disgraced squad. What's more, he described a woman who looked exactly like Sasaki, but with a scar here, on her forehead.

{{GM}}Gaichu draws a finger down across his brow, over his right eye.{{/GM}}

Precisely where I cut her.
Perhaps. But would that be a satisfying life? And would *you* truly be safe? Should they kill you, that would be because of my own inaction. I am unwilling to carry that weight.

No. I think I must end this, one way or another.
No.

While I may follow that course of action later, it will *not* be because I am forced to. I am tired of being obligated to live on their terms.

So they will die on mine.
For that, I thank you.

{{GM}}Gaichu gingerly begins collecting his things and arranging them back in the box.{{/GM}}

I am simply thinking about the chain of events that brought me to Hong Kong.
{{GM}}Gaichu gingerly begins collecting his things and arranging them back in the box.{{/GM}}

No. I am remembering my home, and obviously I would like to return to it. Long ago, however, I came to terms with the impossibility of that desire.

Today, I am simply thinking about the chain of events that brought me to Hong Kong.
{{GM}}Gaichu is examining his armor and gear, looking for defects.{{/GM}}

$(l.name). I am ready to go when you are - but it doesn't hurt to do a last minute inspection.

Message me from the MTR station when you are ready.
{{GM}}Gaichu runs his fingertips over his gear and armor, checking for defects and weak points.{{/GM}}

$(l.name). Have you changed your mind about the run I proposed?
Before we get into that, what did you think of that last run?
No. Still no time for that right now.
I have, actually. When can we leave?
Unfortunate. Still - your mission computer contains all the relevant data.
The dim cabin's air is thick with the pungency of incense. A a small, rudely constructed altar sits near Gaichu's box of mementos. It consists of a wooden box, a few trinkets, and a bowl for burning incense.

Gaichu himself is polishing his sword again. He runs a claw along the length of the blade, feeling and listening for nicks and dents.
Good evening, $(l.name). A fine evening, isn't it?

{{GM}}He puts the sword aside and smiles in your general direction.{{/GM}}

What can I do for you?
I sort of assumed you'd want to talk about what happened with your team.
You don't have anything to say about what happened to Ishida?
Of course I have thoughts about it, but why would I burden you - or anyone else - with them? If *you* would like to talk about it, then we may, by all means.

I am a private person by nature, however. This is why I did not seek you out, to speak on it.
Of course I want to talk about it. Are you okay?
We can discuss it later.
A curious question. Am *I* all right - I, the one who survived? Who has now sheds old life entirely? Who no longer need worry about assassins on his heels?

Yes. I am more than all right. I am free.
The team is all dead, save for Ishida. He will know what it's like to feel the disease burn through his brain, stripping logic and artistry and leaving only hunger in its wake.

When it is done, I am certain he will be an animal, while I remain...whatever it is that I am. Gaichu, but one that may speak and act as a free being.
{{GM}}Gaichu grins thinly, cradling his chin in one hand.{{/GM}}

There is some poetic justice in this, I feel. His claims of my weakness, mirrored by his own descent into feral madness - and yet here I am. One with enough willpower to survive and prosper despite my ill fortune.
You don't think it was a step too far?
You did the right thing. He had it coming.
It was your choice. So long as you stand by it, that's what matters.
No, I do not.

Understand, Ishida was a product of the same training that shaped me. But unlike me, he has never had the training proven wrong - he always believed he was the strongest, the best, and that he was unbeatable by 'lesser' creatures.
He would never have learned. His xenophobia and arrogance would have ruled him his entire life.

Men like Ishida are the reason that Japan refuses to accept that the Awakening was a natural affair, and ships metahumans to Yomi Island. I was taught that people like Duncan, Gobbet, and Is0bel are subhuman. Yet I have seen what they can accomplish, and I am impressed.
What did you think of that last mission?
Has killing your old unit changed your outlook on life?
Do you regret having to kill your unit?
Have a good night, Gaichu.
Yes. Yes, I think it has.

My lesson to Ishida should not end with him. If becoming a ghoul has allowed me to prosper and become stronger, surely I should hone my instincts just as my training honed my swordsmanship?
If I can apply the same focus to my new nature as I did to my skills in combat, I am certain I can prove that to be a ghoul is only to be different, not lesser. I knew this before - logically - but I did not *feel* it.

To know and feel are different things entirely.
Regardless, Ishida's sword is now mine. It is a newer blade than my own, and appears to be made with some manner of enhance dikote process along the tungsten carbide egde.

{{GM}}He lifts the katana, running one claw down the back of the blade.{{/GM}}

I have noticed a marked improvement in my speed when using it, particularly with follow-through moves. Should an enemy fall to this sword, I will be able to reposition much more rapidly.
Yes. Yes, I think it has.

I had thought that embracing my nature as a ghoul would be enough to allow me to survive - become the thing you have been cursed with, so to speak. But I do not think that is true any more.
Instinct has to be tempered with forethought and logic, or the hunger and rage could overwhelm me. I must be careful not to let emotion rule over my self-control.

But this shows the synergy of how a strong soul can survive this disease, if they take care and are mindful. Perhaps I can show others that we are not all mindless beasts.
{{GM}}Gaichu cocks his head as he ponders this. After a long moment, he shakes his head.{{/GM}}

No. I do not believe I do.
We were locked in a dance that could only end with my death or theirs. We chose that path, consciously or not - and I am unwilling to die so that they could live.

I value my life, even changed as it is. Their insistence on following the strictures of their duty ensured this end, just as surely as my refusal to die did.
I regret only that circumstance and training lead us to this point. They were still family to me, even at the end.

But if your family turned on you and tried to kill you, you would still defend yourself.
{{GM}}Gaichu recoils, expression one of rank incredulity.{{/GM}}

Surely you are joking with me. I will stay here, and aid you in your endeavors. I have no other life to turn to, nor anyone else to call friend. As you have aided me, so too will I aid you.
This life in the shadows is the most free and open I have ever felt.

I have no desire to go or do anything else. Perhaps later I will, but not any time soon.
And the same to you, my friend.
Thank you for understanding. It was not an easy decision to make, but I felt that I had no choice.

Understand, Ishida was a product of the same training that shaped me. But unlike me, he has never had the training proven wrong - he always believed he was the strongest, the best, and that he was unbeatable by 'lesser' creatures.
Thank you for understanding that. The ability to choose, consciously, is what sets me apart from other ghouls.

Understand, Ishida was a product of the same training that shaped me. But unlike me, he has never had the training proven wrong - he always believed he was the strongest, the best, and that he was unbeatable by 'lesser' creatures.
Allow me to thank you again for interceding on Ishida's behalf.

{{GM}}Gaichu bows very low, holding it for an almost uncomfortable amount of time.{{/GM}}

I had blinded myself to the possibility of ending his life without attempting to avenge my suffering upon him.
I could not let him live, but I could forgive him for his blindness and arrogance. The ability to forgive is one of the hallmarks of humanity, and without that, I fear I would have embraced my inhuman nature a little too much.

You guided me away from that darkness, and that is a debt I cannot easily repay.
Why couldn't you have let him live?
You had to be free. That's what mattered.
You're welcome. I stand by my friends.
Men like Ishida are the reason that Japan refuses to accept that the Awakening was a natural affair, and ships metahumans to Yomi Island. I was taught that people like Duncan, Gobbet, and Is0bel are subhuman.

I have seen what they can accomplish, and I am impressed.
But to condemn him to a tormented existence as a crippled, mindless beast?

How would I have been any better than he, if I had done so. Your influence guided me away from that, and becoming the monster he suspected I was.
Yes, but freedom without restraint is mere anarchy loosed upon the unsuspecting world. I have my code, and I fear I would have lost it were you not so attentive a friend.

It is only right that I repay your kindness by aiding you where I can.
{{GM}}Gaichu nods sharply, smiling.{{/GM}}

And I stand by mine, as well. I do not mean in any stereotypical "bushido says my sword is yours" fashion, either. In the shadows, your allies are your life - and you have proven to be the strongest ally I could ask for. It is only right that I return the favor.
{{GM}}Gaichu inclines his head respectfully.{{/GM}}

Very well. Let me know when you would like to discuss it.
Welcome back. What can I do for you, $(l.name)?
Please, come back later. I must get this storage room made into a semblance of a livable space.

Once that is done, we can speak more.
{{GM}}Gaichu does not open his eyes as you approach, but simply continues to meditate.{{/GM}}

Come back another time, $(l.name). I am still pondering our last conversation.
{{GM}}Gaichu is busily polishing his sword. His fingers tap a small ball of oil along the length, and he proceeds to slide a smooth stone gingerly over the gleaming edge.{{/GM}}

If you don't mind, I'd like to speak later. I have to buff out some nicks in my sword.
{{GM}}Gaichu is rummaging through his box of mementos, searching for a particular object by touch alone.{{/GM}}

Could we speak later, $(l.name)? I am feeling a little distracted at the moment.
A curious affair. I wish we had more time to study the nature of the mummies we found in the catacombs, as I am unaware of any spirit or paranormal phenomenon which could explain their existence.

Bound spirits? A strain of HMHVV? Perhaps something else entirely... Their nature is unclear to me.
I should very much like to know how the mummy's trinket came to be. It may well be that we have discovered a new form of immortality or manner of spiritual being. To store one's essence in an object - what a concept!

Such an opportunity is one that should be studied in depth.
It is unfortunate that will be unable to study them any further. I doubt any remain within the catacombs, and even if they do, it seems unlikely we will ever return there.

At least we retrieved a fine blade in the process, though.
{{GM}}Gaichu shakes his head, running a hand over his scalp.{{/GM}}

Vampires. Trid producers. Fancy parties.

This is not the sort of affair I assumed I would be participating in, as a shadowrunner.
It seems strange, this rivalry between Shenyang and Ma. Most professional rivals don't hire augmented killers or freelance mages to solve their problems, yet Shenyang was insistent that only outside help could solve his problem. Why not simply kill Ma?

Social mores in this city elude me, I confess.
I am also unsure why you chose to let Ku Feng stay with Neville Ma. I suppose it did not matter for our pay - since Wong will be fired, Dr. Shenyang will undoubtedly be happy with the outcome.

But a vampire, running loose in Repulse Bay? I am certain that some day she will become too cocky for her own good.
Say what you will of ghouls, but at least our appetites are not so deep or permanently damaging as a vampire's.
You were right to chase Ku Feng off. This way, her influence over Ma is ended, Wong will be fired, and we stand to make quite a bit of nuyen.

People may find ghouls repulsive, but vampires *kill* their victims. I can subsist on corpses, but Ku Feng requires the living: to have left her in public would have condemned many more to die. In hiding, she may run afoul of a greater predator, at least.
It seems that we might have been a bit hasty - perhaps Dr. Shenyang would have been more pleased if we had convinced Ku Feng to get Penelope Wong fired. That said, you were right to chase her off.

A free and relatively careless vampire is dangerous indeed.
Vampires *kill* their victims. I can subsist on corpses, but Ku Feng requires the living: to have left her in public would have condemned many more to die.

In hiding, she may run afoul of a greater predator, at least.
It seems that we might have been a bit hasty - perhaps Dr. Shenyang would have been more pleased if we had convinced Ku Feng to get Penelope Wong fired. That said, you were right to see her dead.

Vampires *kill* their victims. I can subsist on corpses, but Ku Feng requires the living: to have left her in public would have condemned many more to die.
{{GM}}Gaichu chuckles quietly, baring his teeth as he leans back.{{/GM}}

Ku Feng. What an incredible waste of space. I should hope that she takes my lessons and philosophy to heart - the life of a vampire is more perilous than my own, as her appetite is greater.

Who knows. Perhaps we will not have seen the last of her.
{{GM}}Gaichu snorts, teeth bared in amusement.{{/GM}}

It was a wonderful affair - I had not previously had a chance to go on a run like that. Descending on an elite restaurant, kidnapping a triad Red Pole, escaping by boat...

What is there to be displeased about?
I suppose I could complain that The Talon was left alive, and that he may come after us in revenge... But somehow I doubt he will make much headway against Kindly Cheng's forces.

Ultimately, even if he does bear a grudge, I doubt he will be able to effectively act on it.
I doubt the triads will shed any tears over Talon's death. He was a blunt instrument - a thug, easily replaced and rarely mourned. We have done this city a service by killing him.

It seems unlikely that the 289s will seek revenge. Even if they wanted to, which I doubt, they are too weakened to attack us here.
A good run, I think. Unexpected complications, perhaps, but all told we were quite successful.

With any luck, the Red Dragon will be paid a visit by Knight Errant security - and soon. Despite the other team, we sowed enough chaos that I doubt that Ares will realize our deception.
I think giving the other shadowrunners the laser may have been the wisest course of action, in the long run. The shadows do not forget favors like that - and help in a time of difficulty is often the difference between life and death.

Besides, I doubt we needed another weapon. We are quite effective as is.
What's more, we managed to acquire a powerful and unique weapon! While a single weapon is unlikely to give us an overwhelming advantage, I will gladly take any edge I can on future runs.

Few would expect a team of shadowrunners to be so well equipped as to have an experimental high-energy laser.
I confess, the purpose of our little adventure in Wuxing Skytower eludes me. While in Japan we have a notion 'onmyodo' - a method of controlling qi - it relies on ritual and incantation to banish unruly spirits.

Feng shui, on the other hand, seems more akin to extremely fussy interior decorating.
The very idea that tipping over a potted plant or moving the orientation of a desk could have affects on a corporation's stock price is insane - yet as we were working, I could *see* the flow of magic change.

Perhaps this manner of luck manipulation is unique to China. It certainly would not work in Osaka.
{{GM}}Gaichu snorts, expression turning sour.{{/GM}}

As much as I hate being double-crossed by a client, I hate failing to deliver on a contract just as much. The entire job was a no-win situation - do we break our word, making ourselves look bad? Or do we execute a client, branding ourselves dangerous to future Johnsons?
I suppose that protecting one's reputation is important. I can understand your point of view.

{{GM}}Gaichu knits his fingers together, sighing.{{/GM}}

Still, I would like to have devoured that smug elf's face. Treachery must be punished - there are nuances to protecting one's name on the street.
I am perfectly fine with having given the data to Hwang. The man was a bit of a toad, but I would rather make an ally in the underworld than allow a backstabbing spy to betray us and live.

It was good that we killed him. Good riddance - he'll never betray another runner again.
I confess, I did not expect you to kill both parties. Still, an unorthodox solution to a complicated problem - as Alexander did in Gordium, you used your sword to untangle a stiff knot. And now we are free of both of them, and can sell the data on our own.

Despite the bloodshed, I feel this was an elegant solution. Well done.
The entire cultural phenomenon of conventions - particularly those open to the public - eludes me. Why you brought me, I have no idea. I could tell you far more about gardening, drones, or even Gobbet's dubious 'cooking' than I could about decking.

Even so, there was something fascinating about it. From an anthropological point of view.
For instance, the spat between Is0bel and Rhombus. Not only were they squabbling like fussy children, the entire squabble began because of unsolicited advice? And for this, Is0bel killed his cat?!

I may devour human flesh, my friend, but even I am not that kind of monster. Deckers are strange people, and I am glad not to be one.
A strange affair. I confess, when Xiaozhi betrayed us, I was concerned. It seemed that your quarry would slip from your grasp once more, and that the puppetmaster - Josephine Tsang - would remain in the shadows.

Josephine's oversight in allowing Xiaozhi to live was a terrible mistake.
I find it especially interesting that after all of this, you allowed the Plastic-Faced Man to live. Your understanding of the realities of shadow life surpasses any others that I have met. Your restraint is admirable - and reflects how you see your own place in the world.

He is a man doing a job, just as we are. We are not enemies - the great and powerful are, safe in their steel towers.
I am surprised you chose to kill him. At first, I assumed it was due to loyalty to Kindly Cheng. Then I thought it must have been for your father. And then I realized it does not matter.

We are alone in darkness, and we will die in it. All we can do is eliminate any threat we face - and the Plastic-Faced Man was assuredly a threat.
(Talk about the Tsang Tower Run)
{{GM}}Cocking his head, Gaichu laughs.{{/GM}}

That is what we are already talking about, is it not?
{{GM}}Gaichu shrugs, blinking a few times in surprise.{{/GM}}

What do you expect me to say? You have allowed me to live, invited me into your home - or boat, if you prefer - and have given me a means to earn an income and use my particular set of talents. I am pleased with this.
In addition, you allowed me to extract vengeance on those that had wronged me. To me, that says that you understand the nature of reputation and fear in the shadows.

I look forward to working with you.
While I understand you desire to keep the Elders alive to preserve whatever good will exists between you and the Whampoans, I worry that such softness sends the wrong message to those in the underworld.

There is a time for truth, but there is also a time for sending a message.
I am not certain what insight I could grant you - I was not present for that mission, so my understanding of it is purely secondhand.
Is there anything else I can do for you?
Mr. Drake's Datachip
According to Drake, he'll tell you when you need to use this.
Lets others know that your totem is power. Grants +1 Charisma, +1 Spirit Summoning, and +1 Spirit Control.
Aztechnology Cyberleg (Basic)
Aztechnology's cyberlimbs carry a variety of tailored enhancements. This model boosts the agility of the user and is popular among performance athletes. Passive: +6 HP, +1 Quickness.
1915
Killer Lvl 2
Enemies within a range of 3 squares have their action costs go up by 1 AP. Lasts 3 RNDS.
Accident: All Actions AP Cost +1
Execute Exploder ESP
Creates an Exploder Expert System Program.
Laser Designator
Uses the Ranged Combat skill for accuracy. When triggered, grants an ability that paints a target with a laser, making it easier for your team to hit. Cost: 0 AP. Cooldown: 2.
Pain Amplification I
The target takes 3 additional HP DMG from all attacks. Lasts for 2 RNDs.
Pain Amplification: Incoming DMG +3
Long Swipe
"Sandblaster"
Shotgun: This custom made implement was designed for protracted engagements against armored targets. Each hit reduces the target's armor by 1.
Spell Focus: Fireball II
Additional magic has been channeled into this spell, causing the effect radius to increase. Its explosion does ongoing 7 HP DMG for 2 RNDS. Shares a cooldown with other Fireball spells.
Water Stance
The Water stance offers no positive or negative effects. This stance cycles through three attacks in sequence.
Stance: Water
As the final Knight-Errant guard falls, you glance around and realize that the last of the second team of runners has also died.

Retrieving the MP Laser IV prototype from the body, you afford them one last glance. They won't be needing the prototype any more.
Lab Twelve smells of shiny new computer equipment, and the entire room hums with quiet efficiency. Monitors ping occasionally, broadcasting quiet alerts. The whole environment breathes high-tech serenity.
The centerpiece of the scene is a cockpit-like capsule containing the unconscious form of Raymond Black, reclining peacefully on what looks to be some form of surgical couch.

Wires run from myriad ASIST devices to the back of his head.
{{GM}}Unhook Raymond from the machine.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}He takes in the scene.{{/GM}}

This is the largest array of ASIST equipment I have ever witnessed. It's quite impressive.
{{GM}}Duncan's eyes are fixed on Raymond's unmoving body. His voice lowers to a whisper.{{/GM}}

Holy shit. Raymond.
Let's get him out of there.
Find a way to open that thing. Now.
All at once, alarm klaxons begin to blare. The door that you entered through slides shut, and you can hear the latching mechanisms engage - it's locked tight.

The pounding sound of heavy footsteps resonates from the other side. Bodies approaching, and moving at a rapid clip.
Whatever we're gonna do, we'd better do it fast. We're about to have company.
If you're gonna get him out of there, do it fast. We're about to have company.
{{GM}}She takes in the scene.{{/GM}}

Impressive setup. Josephine Tsang must've spent a fortune on this.
{{GM}}Gobbet takes in the scene, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, hugging herself tightly. This is clearly not her environment.{{/GM}}

That must be him.
{{GM}}Gaichu sniffs the air, then lets out a grunt of approval.{{/GM}}

I believe that we have located Raymond Black.
Lightning Bolt
Lightning Bolt! Max range: 10.
Shock: AP -1 per RND
The explosion is deafening. Waves of concussion crash into you from both sides as the bridge and the barricade disappear in gouts of flame.

You stagger, and the civilians on the other side of the wall do the same. The Tsang security troops that were threatening them barely manage to stand their ground.
Disperse, damn it! Get back, or we'll open fire!

{{GM}}The Tsang guard's voice is raw with panic.{{/GM}}

This is your last warning!
The crowd moves as one, lurching forward with maniac grins on their faces. The leader, a skeletal man in his early twenties, allows his lips to part.

He doesn't have a tooth in his head, and his tongue is missing.
The security officers stand their ground. As the screaming masses charge them, they open fire.
Trauma Damper (Bioware)
Specialized receptors in the midbrain allow the user to shrug off minor wounds. When triggered, a user resists 3 damage from each incoming attack. Lasts 3 RNDs. Cost: 1 AP. Cooldown: 6.
Trauma Damper: Incoming DMG -3
Killer Lvl 1
Smash
The spirit smashes the ground in front of it, doing HP and AP DMG.
A tall, well-groomed man with jet black hair leans casually against his fruit stand. His hard features suggest that he hasn't smiled in a long time, but his demeanor isn't cold - only cautious.

He appears less interested in watching his wares, and more interested in watching people.
{{GM}}The man sees you approach and speaks, his inflection smooth and careful not at all like a fruit vendor's.{{/GM}}

Fresh fruit. You here to buy?
{{CC}}Etiquette: Shadowrunner{{/CC}} You're a runner. I can tell by how you hold yourself.
I might be. What's your name?
What are you selling here?
Let's see what you have.
{{GM}}He studiously observes his surroundings before returning his gaze to you.{{/GM}}

Name's Yang. But people 'round here call me "Steel Drake."
I'm trying to stay on the down low, so I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your voice down.

Let's not make our backgrounds public knowledge, alright?
Why lay low?
I just pulled a job and I'm still under some heat. Got to clean the nuyen and fence some of the gear I nabbed. Walled City is the best way to do that and stay out of sight.
Fenced goods, hm? Let's set the produce aside and take a look at what you've got.
I might be willing to take some of those things off your hands.
Sounds like you have quite the extended inventory.
A moment. I only sell my best goods to like-minded individuals, and I believe you're deserving of such.
He turns to his stand and, with a click, hits a hidden switch. What originally appeared to be a bin of apples now slowly slides up from the counter, revealing, just beneath the counter, a handful of guns, explosives, and other wicked gadgets.
Just what I needed. Let's have a look.
Very nice, but I have to head out. Maybe I'll drop by again later.
{{GM}}We waves his wrist toward the display.{{/GM}}

Take your time.
{{GM}}Drake shrugs.{{/GM}}

Suit yourself.
You can call me me Yang.
Wait - Yang? As in, "Steel Drake" Yang?
So, you're local. That's what people 'round these parts call me.

{{GM}}He shrugs loosely.{{/GM}}

It's just a nickname. You know how that goes.
I'd think $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname) here knows *all* about that sort of thing.

{{GM}}She elbows you teasingly.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}He shifts his weight.{{/GM}}

What are you looking to buy? Soya, mycoprotien, kaf? I've got a whole cartload of products.
{{CC}}¥100{{/CC}} {{GM}}Bribe.{{/GM}} I'm more interested in information.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Gang{{/CC}} Saw triads rolling some Walled City vendors just earlier. How'd they miss you?
Let's see what you're selling.
{{GM}}He rubs his chin thoughtfully.{{/GM}}

I might be able to help you there. I've an extended stock for special customers like yourself, with only the finest and freshest intel... among other things.
Sure, anything you've got.
Now you've caught my interest. Go on.
Latest tip is to avoid the Walled City civilians. Something's gone wrong in their heads. They've been lashing out, even against those who are trying to help them, unable to recognize friend from foe.

No matter how tempted you may be to lend a hand, nothing good will come of it - 'cept confusion and a few bruises.
And who can I thank for this tip?
That one comes straight from me. Name's Yang, but people 'round here call me "Steel Drake."
I'd like to see your extended stock, Drake.
Ah.

{{GM}}He nods slowly.{{/GM}}

They didn't miss me. They probably just know better than to mess with one of their top earners.
Earner? You an enforcer of some kind?
I guess that makes sense. Not like you're selling grenades or anything.
You on the triad payroll?
Not so much. I, ah... *acquire* things. Often for the triads. Sometimes for former clients, sometimes for new ones.

Name's Yang, but the people 'round here call me "Steel Drake."
The triads think of me as a tool to be used. I'm demitable, tight-lipped, efficient. That works for me - let them believe they have the upper hand.

I give them good rates on my hauls, and, from time to time, even fence them hardware from my side jobs.
If you're interested, I've got fresh inventory. *Special* products for people of a more underground persuasion.
Maybe not *grenades,* per se. I, ah... *acquire* things. Often for the triads. Sometimes for former clients, sometimes for new ones.

Name's Yang, but the people 'round here call me "Steel Drake."
So to say. I, ah... *acquire* things. Often for the triads. Sometimes for former clients, sometimes for new ones.

Name's Yang, but the people 'round here call me "Steel Drake."
Help yourself.
I've got a special stock for you, friend.
Sure. Right here.
Suit yourself.

Business is booming, so if you happen to find your way back to these parts, I'll be here.
Still in this madhouse, are you? Well, my business is always open.
Good to hear.
So what do you need?
Nothing, just heading out.
Mark Target 3.0
Uses the Decking skill for accuracy. If successful, marks an enemy, causing them to become 20% easier to hit.
Hydro Daggers III
A powerful shot of water.
All enemies within a range of 3 squares of the spirit are infected. This does 10 HP DMG and an ongoing 5 HP and 1 AP DMG for 2 RNDs.
As you move through the MTR station, several figures move to interrupt your advance. The leader is obvious: a hulking brute of a troll. He cradles a heavy assault rifle in the crook of his cyberarm, and reeks of stale cigarettes and casual brutality. The name "Steeltooth" is stenciled across the flak vest beneath his jacket.

His eyes narrow as you approach.
That's far enough for you, punk.

{{GM}}Steeltooth gestures toward you with the barrel of his gun, taking a drag from his cigarette.{{/GM}}

My crew's had a long night. Nerves a little raw, y'know? And crunching somebody's face always brightens my mood.
Let me speak in small words, so you don't misunderstand.

{{GM}}He takes a long drag on his cigarette, exhaling the smoke through his nose.{{/GM}}

Give us the prototype laser, or we're gonna kill you so hard your ancestors feel it.
That's the best insult you could come up with? Really?
Try it. Watch how fast I air you out.
Whoa, there. Can we talk about this first?
{{GM}}Steeltooth's face twists up in annoyance.{{/GM}}

Hell with you, little $(l.man). You think you're so smart? Let's see how smart you are with a bullet in your skull.

{{GM}}His voice is like gravel over sheet metal.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Wu thrusts his lower jaw out, snarling over his tusks.{{/GM}}

You think you're tough, jackass? I've eaten burritos that're tougher than you. You're about as scary as a pile of wet kittens.
{{GM}}The troll doesn't even favor Wu with a glance.{{/GM}}

Better keep your dog over there on a shorter leash, $(l.man), or he's likely to get put down.
{{GM}}Gobbet rolls her eyes, waving a dismissive hand at Steeltooth.{{/GM}}

Listen, we're all *super* impressed by the size of your 'gun'. Really.

But we're not really inclined to give anything to a dumb thug like you.
Adults are talking, little girl. Once they're done, maybe you'll be able to run along home and play with your dollies.

Until then, shut the hell up.
{{GM}}Glancing in your direction, Gaichu shifts a hand to the hilt of his sword.{{/GM}}

I believe we are more than capable of killing this troll and his allies, should the situation escalate. I would not be particularly concerned about their chances of survival.
You really think so, zombie? Maybe you're right. Maybe not.

Either way, you just signed up to be the first target.
{{GM}}Glancing up from his bracer for a brief moment, Racter narrows his eyes at Steeltooth.{{/GM}}

I've got a miniature tank, armed with cutting edge weaponry. Do you really think I would hesitate to use it on some thugs who were in my way?

This is the precise reason I built it!
I don't give a shit about your stupid toy tank. A drone's a drone, and I've killed dozens of drones.

You want you toy wrecked, all you have to do is move it one more step.
{{GM}}Is0bel closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When she opens them, she casts a tired look toward you.{{/GM}}

I don't care what you want to do, $(l.name), so long as we get home soon. I'm tired of this goddamn run.
Listen to your girl. She wants to go home... And you know what?

You can. Just as soon as we're done here.
{{GM}}The troll takes one last drag from his cigarette before spitting the butt out onto the tiled floor.{{/GM}}

Right. Cigarette's done, which means your time's up. Hand over the prototype.

Now.
You must be that genius Ares caught breaking in. Twice. In one night.
I'm not giving you a damn thing.
{{GM}}Lie{{/GM}} We had to ditch it back in those caves. K-E is right behind us!
What are you talking about? Don't be stupid.

{{GM}}The troll's shifting stance and wary eyes indicate the depth of his ability to lie - about the same as a puddle.{{/GM}}
You came in the front door first, and then you came back dressed as a janitor.
Hey, shut up, okay?! Just... Shut up! I was doing legwork, and the suits weren't telling me nothing! So I had to get in and root around a bit, you know?

{{GM}}Steeltooth is becoming increasngly agitated.{{/GM}}

You wanna keep your arms, you don't tell anybody about that!
Oh, I see. You wanna be a hard case, is that right? Fine.

{{GM}}The troll lifts his rifle, sneering down the barrel at you.{{/GM}}

Light 'em up!
Bullshit. Nobody dumps a payday like that. Not unless they got no other choice.

{{GM}}He fingers his rifle's trigger nervously, however.{{/GM}}
The laser had a tracking device on it, we had to ditch it.
They had guard dogs following us by scent, and the laser had a tracking device on it.
Ahh, hell. Still, though, I ain't buying it.

Tell you what - we strip search you. If you don't have it, you can be on your way. How's about that?
{{CC}}Charisma: $(story.global_skillcheck_hard){{/CC}} The longer you hold us up, the closer they are to killing *you*, too.
{{CC}}Strength: $(story.global_skillcheck_hard){{/CC}} You try it, your arms come back as stumps.
{{GM}}Attack{{/GM}} To hell with you.
You kinda got a point there. Shit.

{{GM}}Steeltooth looks around nervously, hefting his gun.{{/GM}}

You sure it had a tracker? You ain't lyin' to me?
Why would I lie to you? We're both shadowrunners.
Tick tick, man. We've all gotta get out of here before the cavalry shows up.
Yeah... Yeah, you're right.

{{GM}}A look of comprehension breaks over the troll's face like a dim candle slowly flickering to life.{{/GM}}

Come on, guys. Let's get the hell outa here!
Whoa, whoa! Let's no be hasty here!

{{GM}}The troll is taken aback by your sudden fervor. He strinks back, a bead of sweat rolling down his face.{{/GM}}

Nobody needs to do any hand-breaking.
We're leaving. You should get out of here before I change my mind.
{{GM}}Raising his hands placatingly, Steeltooth begins to back away slowly.{{/GM}}

Message recieved, chief. I think it'd be best if we cleared out of here.
{{GM}}Steeltooth snorts, baring his tusks.{{/GM}}

You could try. Platform 6 is already painted with what's left of another team who didn't surrender.

Turns out they didn't have the prototype. Maybe you do.
{{GM}}The troll rolls his eyes, snorting in derision. His tone is sour and sarcastic.{{/GM}}

'We should *talk* about this! We can be *friends*!'

Listen to yourself. It's embarassing, you whining little baby.
Blood magic, practiced by the mages employed by Aztechnology. If target is damaged, caster gains 6 HP per RND for 2 RNDs.
Hydro Daggers II
Combines the best parts from the best armor. Grants +1 Dodge and +2 Movement.
Blood magic, practiced by the mages employed by Aztechnology. If target is damaged, caster gains 4 HP per RND for 2 RNDs.
Smart Proximity Grenade
Adheres a smart proximity mine at the target location. The mine will explode when hostiles enter the area.
{{GM}}A live video window is open in the middle of the terminal's screen. You see the face of the ever-tense maintenance manager glaring back at you.{{/GM}}
All right, rookie. I've started the turbine in standby mode, so its electronics should be working. I need you to troubleshoot the issue from your end while I reference the machine's manual on my end.

Now, let's see...
Says here we should start by repressurizing the hydraulics. There should be a program on your terminal specifically for monitoring and controlling the turbine. Once you're in there, select the hydraulics and hit the appropriate command.
{{GM}}The turbine hisses as the hydraulics pressurize.{{/GM}}

Well, that's something. Indicator lights are still red, though. Sometimes the engine's seismoradar connection becomes misaligned, so try adjusting that. Shouldn't need to move it more than a couple centimeters.
{{GM}}The machine remains unchanged.{{/GM}}

Huh. Maybe the rotor speed needs to be recalibrated?
Aaand done.
{{GM}}Something groans inside the turbine, and the base of the rotor begins to rumble.{{/GM}}

Hey, that's it! Don't let the noise fool you - we've identified the problem. The rotor must've been recalibrated the opposite of what it needed. One more try, and it should fix the turbine. Give it a go!
{{GM}}Repair the turbine.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Sabotage the turbine.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The rumbling sounds of the machine steady, and its indicator lights turn green.{{/GM}}

That's what I want to hear. Great work! I'll remember this come your next review.
Anything else I can do?
Guess I'm done here.
That was easy.
Since you're new here, that means you're part-time, right? So I suggest you head on home. Catch up on some trid. You deserve it after this.
Oh. All right, then. Bye!
Yep, nothing else you can do. I suggest you head on home, catch up on some trid. You deserve a break.
Thanks, boss.
You've got a gift, rookie. Why don't you head on home, catch up on some trid. I'll catch you next shift.
Yes, ma'am.
{{GM}}A thunderous grating noise rumbles inside the machinery, followed by a loud explosion as a sheet of flame erupts from its top.{{/GM}}

WHAT DID YOU DO?
I'm... not sure. Is it supposed to shoot fire?
It's fine. Everything's fine here.
Damn it! Get your ass over to security. They're going to want a statement.
{{GM}}Is0bel's eyelids flicker in disbelief. Her mouth is agape as she gazes in horror at the chaos that you've unleashed.{{/GM}}

Really?

You *do* know that there are alternatives to fixing things with methods other than "Try random thing. Watch thing explode." Right?
> Ares Asia Holdings Directed Energy Lab

Please input command.
{{GM}}Unlock the main lab door.{{/GM}}
Cannot disengage door lock while alarm is active. Please verify that all alarm is off and try again.
Hydro Daggers I
Tsang Real Estate Data
A mess of charts and slide decks, worthless to anyone outside Tsang.
Doberman Mk. 2 Assault
The assault variant of the classic Doberman drone. Its turret has been modified with a burst fire for short-range skirmishes.
Designate Target
Marks a target with reflected laser light, making it easier to hit.
With the data and tissue samples secured, you are ready to make your exit from the Nalchi.

Pulling you your commlink, you dial Captain Jomo.
{{GM}}The Malaysian Ork's face springs to life on your commlink, his tusky maw spread in a grin.{{/GM}}

Jomo is listening! You ready for a pickup, my friend? We're standing by and have eyes on the ship.
Make it fast. Things might heat up.
Come get us. We're done here.
Easy, lah. We'll be there in a few minutes. Be ready right where we dropped you off, friend.

{{GM}}With that, Jomo disconnects the call. In a few minutes, the only thing between you and Hong Kong will be the open ocean.{{/GM}}
The last detail is to inform the Johnson everything is complete and have him transfer payment. You rapidly dial the number Kindly Cheng gave you for "Tigath".
{{GM}}The Elf on the screen has the bearing of someone with no time for pleasantries, and his tone is flat when he speaks.{{/GM}}

This is Tigath. Is the task done?
We're done here. We can release the data at a time and site of your choosing.
The cargo was heavily guarded, but we're done here.
It was easy and quick. Are you ready to transfer payment?
That was swiftly done.

Unfortunately, there's been a complication. I can't transfer you your payment until we meet in person.
I've had a tail on me since I arranged the run with Kindly Cheng. I think the Seoulpas have caught up with me, and are watching to see what I'm up to.

I can shake the tail, but I need to ensure my safety before this is done with.
I can help with that, but it'll cost you.
Frankly, that's not my problem.
{{GM}}Tigath grimaces, but nods his head in agreement after a few seconds.{{/GM}}

I'll pay whatever it takes to get them off my back. If I can't, my family's still dead.
I have a safehouse in Ho Chung Village that I set up before landing here. Meet me there - call me when you're close and I'll shake the tail. As long as we get it handled in a hurry, I should be clear to get out of Hong Kong.
I guess we don't have much choice.
You'd better have the money when I get there.
My rates just went up. Significantly.
I'm sorry about all of this. I really am.
You disconnect the call and pocket your commlink. Things just got a whole lot more complicated.
I don't like this one bit, $(l.name). Last minute plan changes are the fastest way to get killed, especially if somebody bloodthirsty like the Seoupa Rings are involved.

This whole thing stinks.
Sure does. But how else are we gonna get paid?
You have any better ideas about how to handle this?
Listen, just keep your eyes open and be ready for anything. I want to come home in one piece, okay?
I don't like the sound of this. I'd rather not get mixed up in something that's none of our concern.

{{GM}}Duncan runs his tongue over one tusk, growling out his words.{{/GM}}

The Seoupas are complete psychopaths, and they wouldn't hesitate to kill us if they thought there was money in it.
I wouldn't be doing this if there was another way to get paid.
If they show up, we handle them like any other enemy.
Just the same, watch your back. If something goes sideways, we have to be ready for it. And be damn sure we take care of any opposition.
{{GM}}Gobbet folds her arms over her chest, rocking back on her heels.{{/GM}}

Ugh, what a crock of shit. Are we really gonna help this guy out? This isn't our problem.
No, but he's got our money.
If we want to get paid, we'll have to.
Fine, fine. I guess we kinda have to...

But I want you to know I will be very surly about it.
I'm getting an uneasy feeling about this job, $(l.name). Something is off with Tigath. I can't put my finger on it, but I would be very cautious about meeting him.
We should be careful.
I'm fairly certain he's not telling us the whole truth. If he double-crosses us, he's a dead man.
I am unfond of suprises, $(l.name). This is a surprise of a significant sort.

I don't doubt we are capable of killing any Seoulpa resistance, but I would recommend caution all the same.
I don't like it either.
We can handle it.
Keep your wits about you. We should not approach this meeting unawares.
As you start to move away from the Omega Sequence cargo, you realize your commlink is buzzing with an incoming call. Pulling it back out of your pocket, you answer.
{{GM}}The caller's face is obscured and their voice digitized, but can still feel a sense of cold threat from the caller.{{/GM}}

$(l.name), you are in possession of data and tissue samples from Project Omega Sequence #358 G. Those samples are not your property, and if you attempt to keep them, we will be forced to take action.
We understand that your employer wishes you to meet him in person to hand over the data. We suggest - strongly - that you give us the data instead.
Who the hell are you? How'd you get this number?
I don't respond well to threats.
Why is that, exactly?
That is not important. What is important is that you have things that I need, and I will not be refused.

This is not up for debate. Agree to hand over the items, or I will kill you and everyone you hold dear. Those are the only options open to you.
So, I reiterate: what choice do you make? Will you agree to give me what I want, or will you take your chances against me and mine?
Get fucked, asshole.
I'm willing to meet with you.
Then let the consequences be on your head. I'll see you dead before the week is out, you obstinate cow.
The call disconnects, and you are left with a cold and uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Tonight just keeps getting worse.
Well, that guy's certainly a cheerful fellow.

What a goddamn night. First we don't get paid without jumping through hoops, and now this jackass?
Out of the frying pan, into the fire.
We'll see if he talks that tough in person.
You put your commlink away, and check the time. Captain Jomo should be arriving any minute.

Time to head back to Hong Kong... and what awaits.
{{GM}}Racter snorts derisively.{{/GM}}

What a common and base way to try and convince you to listen to him. I would enjoy putting a bullet in him.
Guys like that are a dime a dozen.
He talks tough now. We'll see how he is when we're face to face.
Ten to one, that's the leader of the Seoulpa Ring that's after Tigath. Sounds just like the kind of crazed nutjob that would get into one of those gangs.
Just the kind of guy I'd like to put a bullet in.
I admire his nerve, at least.
{{GM}}Is0bel curses, raising a hand as if to slap her cyberdeck. She slowly lowers her hand and takes a deep breath.{{/GM}}

He hung up before I could complete a trace on him. Dammit.
Let's just go get paid.
Let's find out if he's that tough in the flesh.
He meant his threats, $(l.name). He obscured his voice, but he spoke with a great deal of precision. That is the hallmark of someone who is capable of a great deal of violence without any remorse.

{{GM}}Gaichu slowly curls one corner of his mouth upward into a wry grin.{{/GM}}
I want to hear what he has to say.
Maybe that can be arranged.
A wise choice. I will send you a location. You will message me when you arrive, and we can perform a hand-off there. I give you my word that you and yours will be unharmed so long as you deliver the items I have requested.
And I do not take well to being refused. If I don't get the data and samples, I won't stop at killing you.

I willl kill your friends, your family, and anyone else you've done business with. Heoi will be an abattoir by the time I am done, and your name will live on as a cautionary tale about the dangers of overconfidence.
Because if you do not, I will butcher you, your crew, and everyone in Heoi whom you have befriended. The gutters will overflow with the blood I will spill.

Essentially, you have only two options: give me what I want, or invite a bloodbath the likes of which Hong Kong hasn't seen in a century.
{{GM}}The speaker is a young man with an air of intensity about him. He's got the kind of eyes you've seen a lot of as a Shadowrunner: full of casual violence and bloodshed.{{/GM}}

$(l.name). You've been making a lot of waves lately, haven't you? Naughty, naughty.
Who the hell are you?
My name is Hwang Jae-Min. I run the Blue Heaven Seoulpa Ring. You're $(l.name), and you've just stolen from Eastern Tiger.

{{GM}}Hwang runs a hand through his hair, a smug smile plastered across his face.{{/GM}}

Don't bother trying to deny it - I've got your employer's commlink hacked. I heard the whole exchange.
Pretty ballsy, calling a shadowrunner out like this.
I won't deny it. So what?
We both have to live and work in Hong Kong. You've made a bit of a name for yourself, and I respect that. But just like you, I have a job I'm being paid for - and that's to make sure your employer doesn't ever get his hands on the data and samples you've got.

I think we can help each other.
I don't back out on jobs.
How do you figure?
{{GM}}Hang up on Hwang.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Hwang clicks his tongue, narrowing his eyes.{{/GM}}

Even if your employer is lying to you about his motives, his history, and is going to kill you as soon as he has what he wants?

I know some things you don't.
The elf's full name is Tigath Wright, and he's a spy for Tir Tairngire. Some kind of field agent for the Council of Princes.

He launched a failed attack on the original research lab in Tacoma. That's why Eastern Tiger is moving the project equipment and data to Seoul. He's also tried attacking that ship near Perth and Riau Islands.
How do you know all of this?
And what makes you think I'll trust you?
Wright may be skilled, but he's piss-poor at Matrix security.

{{GM}}Hwang waves a hand dismissively.{{/GM}}

We cracked his encryption within an hour of him landing in Hong Kong. We've had eyes and ears on every call, every report, and every take-out order he's made since being in the Free Enterprise Zone.
Wright's left every team he's hired out in the cold - or worse. You're just the latest in a string of hired help.

I understand it's bad for business to cancel a contract, but it's better than being shot in the back of the head.
We both have to live and work in this city. We both have a job to do, too.

Here's my proposal: you give me the data and samples from Omega Sequence #358, and I give you a cut of what I'm being paid. Then, together, we take care of Wright. It's not optimal, I know, but we both come out on top and get to send a simple message - don't fuck with us.
All right. How do you want to do this?
No deal. I finish my jobs to the letter.
You know what? Screw both of you. I can take care of myself.
I'll message you with a time and location near to Wright's safehouse. Meet me before you go to talk to him. We can spring an ambush on him, and do the trade afterward. I'll bring plenty of backup so you don't have to go in alone.
I can respect that attitude.

{{GM}}Hwang narrows his eyes, biting out his next words.{{/GM}}

But respect won't keep me from killing you and leaving your corpse on display outside the Walled City.
You've been lied to from the very beginning. Once that Elf has the data and samples, he's going to kill you and dump your body in a shallow grave - if he bothers to bury you at all.

I have access to information you don't.
You hang up on the caller. Whatever he was going to say, it sounded like trouble.
{{GM}}The caller's expression is pleasant, but there is a level of unspoken menace in his eyes. The glint of killer.{{/GM}}

Good evening, $(l.name). My name is Hwang Jae-Min, and I represent the Blue Heaven Seoulpa Ring. I've just become aware that you are in possession of data and tissue samples from Project Omega Sequence #358 G. I would like those samples, and I am willing to pay you for them.
Who are you, and how did you get this number?
I'm not in the habit of backing out of a deal.
What makes you think I have these items?
Quite frankly, your employer doesn't know the first thing about matrix security. We've hacked his commlink and his rental car. I simply re-dialed you once you called him.

My apologies for such an unorthodox introduction. A $(l.man) of your stature should be afforded more respect, but time is short.
I understand you are an associate of Kindly Cheng's. My own organization is far too trivial to have attracted her notice, but I believe you can help me change that. Merely doing business with you will increase our standing a great deal, and since I have information that may save your life.

Perhaps we can come to an arrangement?
Cut the flattery and tell me what you know.
What do you mean, save my life?
{{GM}}Hang up.{{/GM}}
The Blue Heaven Ring has been retained by Eastern Tiger in order to prevent the theft of the Omega Sequence data and samples - the very things you have just taken.

Your employer, whose full name is Tigath Wright, has been attempting to acquire them for some time.
The entire reason the data and samples are being shipped to Seoul is because of a botched shadowrun - one on the Eastern Tiger facility in Tacoma where the project was being developed.

Tigath Wright was the Johnson for that run.
Your employer is not who he says he is, nor are his motives pure. He was never employed by Eastern Tiger, and has no family in Seoul.

As near as I have been able to determine, he's an agent of the Tir Tairngire Information Secretariat. A spy, if you will.
So why does he want the data?
What's a Tir Elf doing hitting Eastern Tiger?
I'm not certain. But I suspect that the Council of Princes has an interest in suppressing research into Elven longevity. Every scientist working on the question of potential Elven immortality has been disgraced or disappeared, except for those employed by Eastern Tiger.

I suspect that the Elves have secrets they'd rather not have the rest of the world know.
Wright's attempted to intercept Eastern Tiger's cargo at every port it's landed at. The strike in Tacoma was only the first. There was a second attempt in Perth, and a third near the Riau Islands, against the very ship you're now on.

Don't think for a moment that Wright will hesitate to kill you as soon as you hand the data over to him.
So, what do you say? I pay you for the data you have, and both of us can eliminate Wright and whatever hired guns he's brought along.

I think this is a fair arrangement.
Okay. I don't like being lied to.
If Wright double-crosses me, I'll kill him myself. No deal.
I don't believe you. These experiments are horrible.
Excellent. With any luck, we'll both come out of this richer.

I will send you a location. Message me when you arrive, and we can perform a hand-off there, and deal with Wright afterwards. I give you my word that you and yours will be unharmed so long as you deliver the items I have requested.
{{GM}}Hwang's expression darkens and his tone grows cold.{{/GM}}

I'd hoped we'd be able to come to an agreement. But if you refuse to see reason, bullets may prove a more effective argument. No one crosses the Blue Heaven Ring and lives.

Your death will be an object lesson in that.
Well. I think you've made a new friend, $(l.name). I think he's unwittingly just gotten in far over his head.
He'll get what's coming to him. Let's get out of here.
Our rep speaks for itself. Let's get back to Hong Kong.
To hell with that guy. He talks big, but I'm betting he's some small-fry punk trying to chase our tail.
Let's just get back to Hong Kong. I'm not worried about him.
Just one more punk trying to make a name for himself.
I have heard stories of the Seoulpas behaving like bloodthirsty yet petulant children.

I am pleased to see they're entirely accurate.
Naughty children need to get spanked, sometimes.
If it's not one thing, it's another... Come on.
Just what we need. Some punk-ass kid with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove.
He's bitten off a lot more than he can chew.
We all had to start somewhere, I guess.
{{GM}}Is0bel snorts.{{/GM}}

I think that punk kid just got in way over his head.
He has no idea what's going to happen to him.
That's how people drown, really.
You've heard enough. You hang up on Hwang without speaking another word.
Did you just hang up on him?
The conversation was waste of time.
Sure did. He didn't say anything I felt like listening to.
Nor would I expect you to be, given your exceptionally swift rise in the shadow community of Hong Kong. Understand, what I am asking of you I do not do lightly. But I am privy to information that you are not, and I think I could be of some use to you.

Please, do me the honor of hearing me out.
Keep an eye out for anyone following you. I need to get out of Hong Kong in one piece.
We can discuss whatever extra payment you think is fair once we meet in person.
{{GM}}Tigath's mouth twists into an ugly scowl.{{/GM}}

I know that, goddamit! But you have to understand, if I can't get clear of this hit team, my family is still dead even if you post that data!
As long as you have the samples and data, that's all I care about.

Unfortunately, there's been a complication. I can't transfer you your payment until we meet in person.
Well, you seem to have been a good investment.

Unfortunately, there's been a complication. I can't transfer you your payment until we meet in person.
Manaball 3
Area of effect mana-explosion that does ongoing 10 HP DMG for 2 RNDS. Pierces up to 2 Armor. Ongoing DMG ignores Armor.
Mana Burn: HP -10 per RND
As you pass into the hallway, Ku Feng brushes up alongside you.
I'm afraid that we're going to have to part ways here, $(l.name).

{{GM}}She shudders.{{/GM}}

The negative energy of this place has grown a little too strong for my liking.
Oh, c'mon. What happened to drinking the ichor of a Yama King?
You can't quit on me now, Ku Feng. You promised to help me with this!
Are you really content to share power with a Yama King? I thought that *you* wanted to be queen!
Yes, well... that seemed like a good idea when I said it. But truth be told, this is all getting to be a bit much for me.

I really like it a lot better when I'm the only all-powerful monster-queen in the building.
Where's your sense of adventure?
I'm sorry if my decision disappoints you, but at the end of the day, I really don't have a horse in this race.

Why should I care if Qian Ya wants to rule a filthy slum? It's no skin off my back. I've got Repulse Bay to look after!
In any case, this has been a most educational experience. Thank you for letting me be a part of it.

{{GM}}She curtsies demurely.{{/GM}}

Goodbye, shadowrunner. And good luck.
Thank you, Ku Feng.
I did. And I am. Of Repulse Bay.

In case you hadn't noticed, this place isn't Repulse Bay. It's a fetid hellhole with all the charm of a garbage dump.
A lone terminal rests here. It appears largely unmodified, but possesses an open cyberdeck port.
{{GM}}The terminal glows blankly, awaiting your command to unsuppress the alarm system and tap into the Red Samurai communications channel.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Set the trap.{{/GM}} Alright, Gaichu. Your friends are inbound.
{{GM}}Gaichu licks his lips in anticipation.{{/GM}}

Now they will learn what it is to face me in true combat. No more running. No more hiding.

Tonight, we end this for good.
We should secure the prototype drone before we engage with the Samurai.
Cleave
Hits more than one target with a massive crushing swing.
Renraku Flashbang Grenade
Renraku's top-of-the-line flash grenade. Does 3 AP DMG to all hit by its blast. Makes targets easier to hit.
Lab Twelve Access Code
>44526
"Wild One"
SMG: This SMG bucks and kicks with every shot, impossible to control. Its accuracy is reduced, but it has a chance to hit adjacent targets.
This squatter is in need of immediate medical attention. Her torso is a gory mess, and an ever-expanding pool at her feet tells you that she's well on the way to bleeding out.
{{GM}}She peers at you through sunken eyes set into an alarmingly gray face.{{/GM}}

Please... help me.
Gobbet, can you take care of this?
{{CC}}Healing Magic{{/CC}} {{GM}}Repair her wound.{{/GM}} Calm yourself. I can heal you.
{{CC}}Biotech: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Hard){{/CC}} {{GM}}Stabilize her.{{/GM}} Don't worry. You're going to live through this.
{{CC}}Item: Medkit{{/CC}} {{GM}}Patch her up.{{/GM}} Hold still. This might sting a little.
Sorry, but I can't.
{{GM}}She hooks her hands into claws and raises them. Strange energies radiate off of her in waves.{{/GM}}

Already on it.
The power of Gobbet's magic washes over her, erasing the hole in her abdomen.

Gradually, his eyes focus and the color returns to her face.
{{GM}}Shakily, she extends a hand in greeting.{{/GM}}

I don't know who you are, strangers, but you just saved my life.

If I can ever return the favor, you let me know.
We're looking for a friend of ours. A female ork, about nineteen years old. Have you seen her?
How did you get shot?
We're taking another run at the Rat King, and we're gonna kill it this time. We could use your help.
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}} We'll let you get on with your day.
{{GM}}She shakes her head.{{/GM}}

Afraid not. I haven't been able to focus on much since I took that bullet to the gut. Been fading in and out.

If your friend is here, then I hope that she managed to avoid the welcoming committee.
The two locals that we met topside, you mean? An elf and a dwarf?
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

I don't trust 'em, and you shouldn't, either. Don't know where their loyalties lie.
You don't need to worry about them any more. We took care of it.
We'll keep it in mind. Thanks for letting us know.
You put 'em down?

{{GM}}She nods, impressed.{{/GM}}

Good.
{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

Like I said, I owe you my life. Giving you a friendly warning is the least I can do.
Maria Lam. My friends call me Sparrow.
It's good to meet you, Sparrow.
{{GM}}She chuckles.{{/GM}}

Better luck for me that I met you. If I hadn't, I think that I'd've bled out by now.
I was a part of the last mutiny attempt. Made it through that all right, but I guess that I also made some enemies.

I don't know who shot me, but it's a fair bet that someone on this boat is holding a grudge.
I want to help. I do. But I can't do much without supplies.

{{GM}}She licks her lips, considering.{{/GM}}

I'll make you a deal. If you hook me up with some medical supplies, I'll join your mutiny.
{{CC}}Item: Medkit I{{/CC}} {{GM}}Give her your medkit.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Item: Medkit II{{/CC}} {{GM}}Give her your medkit.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Item: Medkit III{{/CC}} {{GM}}Give her your medkit.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Item: Regeneration Salve I{{/CC}} {{GM}}Give her your regeneration salve.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Item: Regeneration Salve II{{/CC}} {{GM}}Give her your regeneration salve.{{/GM}}
Is0bel, have you got anything that might help?
Gobbet, can you help her out?
Sorry, I can't help you.
{{GM}}She gratefully accepts the supplies that you offer her.{{/GM}}

A deal's a deal, and I have a debt to repay.

When you make your move on the Rat King, I'll be there to help.
Good. Head to the quarantine area and meet up with Cadmus. He'll let you know what to do.
I have a few things to take care of here first, but I will. You've got my word on that.
{{GM}}She fishes a medkit out of her bag and hands it to the woman.{{/GM}}

Here. Don't waste it.
I won't. And now I have a debt to repay.

When you make your move on the Rat King, I'll be there to help. You've got my word on that.
Afraid not.
'Fraid not. I'm not packing any medical supplies... don't usually have much need of 'em.

{{GM}}She frowns.{{/GM}}

Sorry.
Well, my offer stands... bring me some medical supplies, and I'll help you in your fight against the Rat King.

Until then, I'll be rooting for you on the sidelines.
All right, but if you ever need anything else, you know where to find me.
The strange energies of your magic wash over her, erasing the hole in her abdomen.

Gradually, her eyes focus and the color returns to her face.
Stabilizing the woman without the proper supplies is tricky, but not impossible. Bringing your extensive knowledge of triage medicine to bear, you cut her shirt away from the wound and go to work.

Eventually, you get the bleeding stopped. The woman gradually regains her senses.
You crack open a medkit and go to work. Within minutes you've run a saline drip into her arm and sealed the wound with liquid skin.

A final slap patch of adrenaline and painkillers gets the woman up and onto her feet.
Please... I can't feel my legs. Can't feel much of anything...

{{GM}}She hugs herself, groaning.{{/GM}}

I'm so cold, so thirsty...
{{GM}}Gobbet hooks her hands into claws and raises them. Strange energies radiate off of her in waves.{{/GM}}

Don't worry. You'll be feeling better soon.
{{GM}}Is0bel glances up at you.{{/GM}}

If you've got any questions for her, now's the time to ask 'em.
Listen to me! We're looking for a friend of ours - an ork, Gobbet. She's about nineteen years old. Have you seen her?
{{GM}}The woman groans.{{/GM}}

...So cold... so...
Focus! Gobbet! Have you seen her?
She says nothing.

Her eyes begin to roll back in her head.
If there's anything that you can do to help her, now's the time to do it.
{{CC}}Healing Magic{{/CC}} {{GM}}Repair her wound.{{/GM}} All right, calm down. She'll live.
{{CC}}Item: Medkit{{/CC}} {{GM}}Patch her up.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Biotech: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Hard){{/CC}} {{GM}}Stabilize her.{{/GM}}
You watch helplessly as the life slips out of her.

She's dead.
Thanks again for your help. I'd've bled out if you hadn't come along.
Tar Bomb 1.0
An area-effect matrix attack that deals -25 IP DMG to IC and deckers, and roots them in place for 1 RND.
Pain Amplification II
The target takes 4 additional HP DMG from all attacks. Lasts for 2 RNDs.
Pain Amplification: Incoming DMG +4
Hey again!

{{GM}}Kiluminati lifts a beer in salute.{{/GM}}

What's shakin', chief?
{{GM}}The most immediately noticeable thing about this ork is his immaculately-maintained red mohawk and the beer he's busily nursing. He fixes you with a mischievous grin as you approach, touching two fingers to his brow in salute.{{/GM}}

Hey there, chief. What's crackin'?
Do I know you?
Not a whole lot. I'm $(s.name).
{{GM}}Extending his hand, the ork shakes his head.{{/GM}}

No, but you might want to - at least if you need a shaman on your crew. Kiluminati Alabrad, at your service. Haven't had a chance to get established in Hong Kong yet. Maybe you can help change that.
How do you know I'm a shadowrunner?
Are you kidding me? Everybody around here knows about you. I guess they don't get a lot of foreigners who move in and immediately start cozying up to the local Yellow Lotus straw sandal.

The rest of us have to show up here and hope somebody needs a hired gun.
Nice to meet you. Kiluminati Alabrad, freelance shaman.

{{GM}}He wiggles his eyebrows and gives you an exaggeratedly conspiratorial wink.{{/GM}}

Your kind of freelance, if you know what I mean. The shadowrunner type.
Hey there, $(l.name)! Welcome to the party.

{{GM}}Kiluminati pulls a bottle of beer out of each of his jacket's pockets, offering you one.{{/GM}}

Hope your night's going well. Have a drink with me.
{{GM}}Take it{{/GM}} Can't refuse a free beer.
Not right now, but thank you.
{{GM}}Popping the top off, you clink your bottle together with Kiluminati's and take a long drink. He smiles broadly and claps you on the shoulder.{{/GM}}

That's the spirit! What good's life, if you can't unwind now and again? It can't always be gunfights and heists.
{{GM}}Shrugging, Kiluminati stuffs the beer back into his pocket.{{/GM}}

Suit yourself - just means I get to keep it for later!
What kind of shaman are you, Kil?
Your accent sounds North American.
What do you think of Heoi?
Talk to you later, Kiluminati.
The kind with a shotgun and a penchant for bad luck?

{{GM}}He lets out a roaring laugh and slaps a hand against his leg.{{/GM}}

Ahh, I kill myself. Seriously, though - Coyote guides me.
{{CC}}Totem: Coyote{{/CC}} Really? Me too, actually.
What's Coyote like?
No kidding? I knew I liked you for a reason!

{{GM}}Kiluminati take a long swig of his beer, watching the foam swirl around in the bottle as he lowers it.{{/GM}}

Always like it when my hunch about somebody ends up having a reason behind it.
Like most shamans, I felt his call when I was a teenager. I'd been running with the local gang, trying to scrape together enough money not to starve. One day we were having a dust-up with the Black Hammers, and I just felt this...force.

It welled up in me, and the next thing I knew, their knives just bounced off my skin.
Things being what they are, I decided making some *real* money was in order. I ditched the gang, and started hiring myself out to whoever offered the most nuyen.

It's all I've ever done, but I'm good at it. You're not likely to find many better, in fact.
He's happy-go-lucky, willing to take life as it comes. You gotta ride the waves, and the universe will take care of you, y'know. Can't fight what's fated to be, but you can bend the rules if you're smart.

Coyote likes shamans that are like that - like me.
Sure is. Born and raised in Federal Way, Seattle Metroplex. Not as bad as the Redmond Barrens, but still a total hellhole.

Kinda miss the big gray northwest, but I guess being swamped by monsoons here in the FEZ is pretty similar. Less acid in the rain, though.
Why'd you leave?
Gonna go back after a few jobs out here?
Things were getting pretty heavy for me - there was a big blowout with the Universal Brotherhood, and a lot of bad magic going on. I decided it'd be better to lay low out here until things calmed down.

I think I might be here longer than I expected, though. Cash isn't coming as fast as I'd like.
Maybe. Depends on the cash flow - it hasn't been coming as fast as I'd like. Besides, a bunch of bad stuff went down for me, and I'd like to lay low until it blows over. Between the Universal Brotherhood and Chicago, I'd rather not be home right now.

It's just a lot safer out here.
Frankly, I hate it. The Walled City gives me the creeps, big time. Something is seriously wrong with that place, and I don't mean in that 'it's a slum' kind of way.

Watch your step, if you have to go in there.
What kind of wrong is it, then?
Good advice. I've had enough of it for one lifetime already.
There's something off with the Walled City's aura. Something in the astral is just sick there, but I can't tell what. It's like all that misery and pain is just building on itself - every misery empowers all the other miseries there.

I'd say you couldn't pay me to go in there, but you probably could. I'm a sucker for a payday.
Keep safe, okay? You know where to find me.
Transys Highlander
This high end deck by Transys has a higher IP rating than the competition. Adds 12.5s when hacking Blocker IC.
Another gate panel. This one's been vandalized and busted up good, a real nightmare of a repair job.

Wu stares at the fence, considering. Loops and whorls of razorwire glitter in the lamplight.		 Une autre grille d'accès. Celle-ci a été vandalisée et abimée pour de bon, la réparation sera un vrai cauchemar.

Wu regarde la clôture, réfléchissant. Les boucles et les spires de barbelés luisent sous les lampes.
Looks edged with monofilament. The corporations here don’t screw around. Ca semble tranchant comme du monofilament. Les corporations ne rigolent pas ici.
Duncan and I have hopped plenty of fences before. It'll be fine. Duncan et moi avons déjà sauter par dessus pas mal de clôtures. Tout ira bien.
Why don't we just cut ourselves an opening? Pourquoi ne pas simplement nous découper une ouverture?
Hmm... guess we'd better find another way through. Hmm... je suppose que nous devrions trouver une autre façon de passer.
{{GM}}She smirks.{{/GM}}

No, it won’t. They use this kind of concertina on prison walls back in the UCAS. Goes through bone like a propeller through sea foam.		 {{GM}}Elle sourit.{{/GM}}

Non, ca n'ira pas. Ils utilisent ce genre de barbelés sur les murs des prisons en UCAS. Ca vous découpe jusqu'à l'os comme une hélice l'écume de mer.
{{GM}}Duncan nods his agreement.{{/GM}}

We aren’t touching it. How about it, Carter? Think you can get the gate open?		 {{GM}}Duncan acquiesce.{{/GM}}

Nous n'y toucherons pas. Tu en penses quoi, Carter? Tu crois que tu peux ouvrir le portail?
{{GM}}She shakes her head.{{/GM}}

Even if you could, it'd snap back on you. Ever seen a high-tension wire whip through a human body? You don't want to.		 {{GM}}Elle secoue la tête.{{/GM}}

Même si tu y arrivais, ca te reviendrait en pleine tête. Tu as déjà vu un câble haute-tension empaler un corps humain? Tu ne veux pas le voir.
{{GM}}Duncan nods his agreement.{{/GM}}

Think you can get the gate open, Carter?		 {{GM}}Duncan acquiesce.{{/GM}}

Tu penses que tu peux ouvrir la porte, Carter?
{{GM}}She winks at him.{{/GM}}

What do you think?		 {{GM}}Elle lui fait un clin d'oeil.{{/GM}}

Qu'en penses-tu?
{{GM}}She eyeballs the job.{{/GM}}

It'll take me a few minutes, though.		 {{GM}}Elle évalue le travail.{{/GM}}

Ca va me prendre quelques minutes, quand même.
Frowning, she leans in to get a closer look at the mangled fusebox. A few seconds later she starts pulling wires and yanking fuses, a look of intense concentration on her face. Les sourcils froncés, elle se penche pour voir de plus près la boite à fusibles mutilée. Quelques secondes plus tard, elle commence à tirer sur les câbles et à arracher les fusibles, une intense concentration sur le visage.
She's competent. Elle est compétente.
I thought she was a mage. Je pensais qu'elle était un mage.
In Cantonese, $(l.firstname).

{{GM}}He sounds like Raymond when he does that.{{/GM}}		 En Cantonais, $(l.firstname).

{{GM}}Il ressemble à Raymond quand il fait ça.{{/GM}}
What's with the lecture, Wu? C'est quoi le problème, Wu?
{{GM}}In Cantonese.{{/GM}} The pen of my aunt is sitting on the end table. Satisfied? {{GM}}En Cantonais.{{/GM}} La plume de ma tante est posée sur l'extrémité de la table. Satisfait?
{{GM}}In Cantonese.{{/GM}} She's competent. {{GM}}En Cantonais.{{/GM}} Elle est compétente.
{{GM}}In Cantonese.{{/GM}} I thought she was a mage. {{GM}}En Cantonais.{{/GM}} Je pensais qu'elle était un mage.
{{GM}}His face is impassive.{{/GM}}

I could tell you couldn't follow everything those smugglers were shouting. You're rusty and that's dangerous.

Only Cantonese from now on. Just like when we lived at Raymond's house. Those endless drills are about to pay off.		 {{GM}}Son visage est impassible.{{/GM}}

Je peux affirmer que tu ne pouvez pas comprendre tout ce que ces contrebandiers criaient. Tu es rouillé et c'est dangereux.

Seulement en Cantonais à partir de maintenant. Tout comme lorsque nous vivions chez Raymond. Ces exercices interminables sont sur le point de porter leurs fruits.
{{GM}}In Cantonese.{{/GM}} Fine. It's Ray's mother-tongue from here on out. {{GM}}En Cantonais.{{/GM}} Très bien. Ca sera la langue maternelle de Ray à partir de maintenant.
{{GM}}In Cantonese.{{/GM}} It's coming back. Won't be a problem. {{GM}}En Cantonais.{{/GM}} Ca va me revenir. C'est pas un problème.
{{GM}}He shakes his head. Continues in Cantonese.{{/GM}}

You gonna be a dick about this, $(l.firstname)?

We're in Hong Kong. Only Cantonese from now on. Just like when we lived at Raymond's house. Those endless drills are about to pay off.		 {{GM}}Il secoue la tête. Continuant en Cantonais.{{/GM}}

Tu vas faire ton connard à ce sujet,, $(l.firstname)?

Nous sommes à Hong Kong. Seulement en Cantonais à partir de maintenant. Tout comme lorsque nous vivions chez Raymond. Ces exercices interminables sont sur le point de porter leurs fruits.
{{GM}}In Cantonese.{{/GM}} Just like at Raymond's. {{GM}}En Cantonais.{{/GM}} Tout comme chez Raymond.
{{GM}}In Cantonese.{{/GM}} It's Ray's mother-tongue from here on out. {{GM}}En Cantonais.{{/GM}} Ca sera la langue maternelle de Ray à partir de maintenant.
I know. She runs the riot squad I'm assigned to.

{{GM}}He continues in Cantonese.{{/GM}}

We speak only Cantonese from now on. Just like we did when we lived at Raymond's. Those endless drills are about to pay off.		 Je sais. Elle dirige l'escouade anti-émeute. J'y suis affecté aussi.

{{GM}}Il continue en Cantonais.{{/GM}}

Nous parlerons seulement en Cantonais à partir de maintenant. Tout comme lorsque nous vivions chez Raymond. Ces exercices interminables sont sur le point de porter leurs fruits.
Think that's necessary? Tu penses que c'est nécessaire?
Could be the difference between life and death. Cela pourrait faire la différence entre la vie et la mort.
{{GM}}In Cantonese.{{/GM}} Got it. {{GM}}En cantonais.{{/ GM}} Bien reçu.
{{GM}}He nods once, satisfied, then turns his back and scans the horizon.{{/GM}}

At least you can still handle yourself in a fight.		 {{GM}}Il hoche la tête une fois, convaincu, puis tourne le dos et balaye l'horizon.{{/GM}}

Au moins tu peux toujours te débrouiller seul pendant un combat.
Did you doubt it? Tu en doutes?
So you're Lone Star now, huh? Donc tu es un Lone Star maintenant, hein?
{{GM}}His back's still to you.{{/GM}}

Nope.		 {{GM}}Il vous tourne toujours le dos.{{/GM}}

Nan.
{{GM}}His back's still to you.{{/GM}}

That's right.		 {{GM}}Il vous tourne toujours le dos.{{/GM}}

C'est ça.
Aren't you wondering what I've been up to for the last eight years? Tu ne t'es pas demandé où j'étais passé ces huit dernières années?
{{GM}}Still giving you his back.{{/GM}}

Nope.		 {{GM}}Vous tournant toujours le dos.{{/GM}}

Nan.
The silence between you gets louder. Heavier.

Then it's broken by a sudden wailing screech. Wu's hand goes to his holster.		 Le silence entre vous devient plus pesant. Plus intense.

Puis, il est rompu par un cri plaintif soudain. La main de Wu vole vers son holster.
The screech is replaced by the sound of grinding wheels. Glancing over to the console, you see Carter grinning back at you. La plainte est remplacée par le bruit de rouages d'aciers. Jetant un regard vers la console, vous découvrez une Carter vous souriant.
Wu says nothing back. He stands with his back to you, thumbs hooked into his belt. Wu ne dit rien de plus. Il vous tourne le dos, les pouces accrochés à sa ceinture.
She is. Carter likes to know how things work. She used to be on the bomb squad.

{{GM}}He continues in Cantonese.{{/GM}}

We speak only Cantonese from now on. Just like we did when we lived at Raymond's. Those endless drills are about to pay off.		 Elle l'est. Carter aime comprendre comment les choses fonctionnent. Elle a l'habitude de faire partie de l'équipe de déminage.

{{GM}}Il continue en Cantonais.{{/GM}}

Nous parlerons seulement en Cantonais à partir de maintenant. Tout comme lorsque nous vivions chez Raymond. Ces exercices interminables sont sur le point de porter leurs fruits.
> Safe Status: LOCKED

{{GM}}There is a small keycard slot on the side of the safe. A red light glows softly next to it, indicating the safe is still locked.{{/GM}}
Swiping the keycard across the slot, the safe lets out a beep and the light flashes green. As the door swings open, the contents are revealed: a stack of chips and a plexiglass cube containing a tangle of drone parts.

With a deft grab, you scoop up the goods.
Blur II
Reduces an ally's chance to be hit by 35%, and increases their Movement by 1. Lasts one round. Shares a cooldown with other Blur spells.
Manaball 2
This access terminal has an open cyberdeck port.
A venom spray that does -12 HP DMG and does -2 HP DMG that last for 2 RNDS.
>25301
A venom spray that does -8 HP DMG and does ongoing -1 AP DMG that lasts for 2 RNDS.
Wide Load
Knight Errant Flashbang Grenade
An effective flash grenade. Does 2 AP to all hit by its blast. Makes targets easier to hit.
Tong's body is a ruined mess. The destroyed ruin of his face is barely recognizable, and what is left of his body would best be described as 'savaged'.

All of his limbs have been torn off, and a pile of flayed skin lies next to the remnants of the Whampoan elder.
The Whampoan's clothing has all but been reduced to rags and tissue by cuts and tears, apparently sustained during the flaying.

At this point, the only thing holding what's left of his body into a semblance of human form is the hair-thin fiber optics of his cyberware.
{{GM}}Gobbet puts a hand over her mouth, speaking in an uncharacteristically serious tone.{{/GM}}

Sweet heaven, $(l.name). I haven't seen anything like that since Auntie Wong tried to stash some credsticks in a devil rat's nest. It takes a lot to turn my stomach... But we sure have a winner today.

This is seriously messed up.
I'll second that. This isn't a murder, this is more like... I dunno, a feeding frenzy.

If it weren't for the skin, I'd say Tong stepped on a goddamn mine or something.
Curious. The removal of the skin speaks to a deliberate pathology - some manner of serial killer - but the severed limbs seem much more savage. You'd have to be very strong to tear those off.

{{GM}}Racter gestures at the body impassively.{{/GM}}

Look, parts of him are missing. That's very curious.
{{GM}}Is0bel gives Gobbet a sidelong glance, her expression one of disgust.{{/GM}}

Messed up is right. This doesn't look like anything I've ever seen, and the Walled City is crawling with deeply disturbed people.
{{GM}}Is0bel's face twists into a disgusted grimace, and she turns to look away.{{/GM}}

Looks like someone dropped him into an industrial meat grinder, almost. Except they brought the grinder with them.

Who the hell kills like this?
Someone with a highly evolved need for ritual murder, I suspect. This manner of pathology is not seen in sane individuals.

{{GM}}Racter gestures at the body impassively.{{/GM}}

Look, parts of him are missing. Curious.
I dunno. If I didn't know better, I'd say a grenade or a mine did this too him. But with all the skin cut off, I'm pretty sure that's not the case.

{{GM}}Duncan shakes his head in disgust.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Racter examines the body without bending over, his expression impassive.{{/GM}}

Shallow cuts across the body, possibly entry points for flaying the strips of skin. The limbs seem to have been removed by brute force, as well.

Also, parts of him are missing. Trophies for the killer, perhaps?
I saw a lot of crazy crap in my days in the Barrens, but nothing like this. I tell you what, though...

{{GM}}Duncan idly checks the chamber on his assault rifle.{{/GM}}

I'm sure glad I'm packing a big damn rifle.
{{GM}}Duncan puts the back of his hand against his nose and stifles a cough.{{/GM}}

I've seen my share of corpses, but this one's a new kind of messed up. Looks like something you'd find in a medical waste dumpster.

If this had happened outside, I'd almost guess he'd stepped on a mine or something.
That's a hell of a mine, to blow off his skin.
This must have taken time. I wonder how the killer avoided notice.
Hey, I'm not a detective. I've just seen a lot of dead bodies.

Whatever did it, though... Well, it was pretty damn thorough.
{{CC}}Biotech: $(story.global_skillcheck_easy){{/CC}} {{GM}}Examine the body.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Have Racter examine the body in detail.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Spellcasting or Conjuring{{/CC}} {{GM}}Use Astral Perception to assense the body.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Have Gobbet assense the body.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Leave the body alone.{{/GM}}
Aside from the tremendous trauma the body's suffered, there's no evidence of a struggle. No subdermal bruising marks the muscles, aside from torque points where the limbs were torn off.

The coagulation of blood and the body's lividity marks a time of death between two and four hours ago.
The knife marks seem more methodical than they did at first glance. There's been no care to try and preserve the skin as any kind of whole, but it was removed in a fashion similar to filleting a fish - the path of least resistance.

What's more, some edges of the flayed skin are ragged, as if cut by a claw rather than a sharpened blade.
There is also a deep, razor-sharp cut to the base of Tong's neck that doesn't match any of the other wounds. His spine has been severed between the 5th and 6th cervical vertebrae.

The wound is consistent with a single blow from a sharp bladed weapon. Given the trauma across the rest of his body, this is almost certainly the first wound his suffered.
Curious. That corresponds with the lack of bruising and signs of a struggle - nothing's been knocked over or broken.

It seems like he may have been caught unaware by a knife or sword attack. But if that's the case, why the terrible mess? If he was dead, there would be no reason for the blood to be spread so widely.
Seriously? Someone killed him and then just... spread his parts all around?

That's horrible and disgusting. I'm gonna hold out hope that he didn't feel any pain.
Huh. You're telling me somebody killed him and then just... spread him around a bit? Sliced him open like it was nothing?

I dunno, $(l.name). That doesn't make me feel any better.
Man, you've totally got your science hat on today! Just like Inspector Deng on the trid!

Still, this is sick. I dunno why you'd kill a guy and then make a huge mess like this.
{{GM}}Racter takes his time examining the body, taking small notes on his PDA.{{/GM}}

Curious. No subdermal bruising where the skin's been removed. No sign of a struggle. Coagulation of blood and lividity marks a time of death between two and four hours ago.
The knife marks are methodical. The killer doesn't seem to have been interested in preserving the skin as any kind of whole. It was removed a bit like one fillets a fish - the path of least resistance.

Some of the strips of skin have a more ragged edge than others. The ragged edge looks consistent with a claw, rather than a blade.
{{GM}}Racter makes a curious noise as he examines the remnants of Tong's face and neck.{{/GM}}

His neck's been severed between the 5th and 6th cervical vertebrae. Scoring across the bone indicates a bladed weapon, and a sharp one at that. Doesn't match any of the other wounds.
{{GM}}Racter stands and looks you directly in the eye.{{/GM}}

If I had to guess, I'd say he was killed with the blow to the back of the neck. Everything else was subsequent damage.
Why would someone kill him and then skin him?
You think the attack was meant to subdue him?
Honestly, I have no idea. Perhaps whatever did the rest of the damage was secondary - an action of opportunity or the like. Without further information, I'm not comfortable guessing.
Taking a deep breath, you allow your senses to expand into Astral Space.

The colors of the room bleed away, replaced with the vibrant lights and emotions of the spirit world.
Surprisingly, no emotions of fear or anger pervade the room. The abiding emotion the room is steeped in is one of perfunctory satisfaction, as if someone had accomplished an important task.

It would seem likely that Tong was surprised; if he was not, it would be certain that you would feel lingering fear within the room.
Whoa, really?

{{GM}}Gobbet takes a moment to center herself and stares off into space. Shortly thereafter, she shakes her head and looks back to you.{{/GM}}

That's strange, $(l.name). You're right, though. He definitely didn't see it coming.
You mean he didn't see it coming?

Maybe we're dealing with an assassin, not a monster. I'm okay with that. I understand assassins. Monsters, not so much.
You know, that actually makes me feel a lot better. Somebody with a knife or a sword? I've dealt with that more times than I recall. Packs of rabid paracritters are a hell of a lot less predictable.
Hrm. Interesting. That would mean the initial attack was definitely premeditated and executed with precision. I doubt a madman would be able to perform such an act, unless he was a mundane kind of madman. A serial killer or the like.

Serial killers are predictable. That's a defining feature of their pathology, in fact. That and the escalation of violence.
You're the boss, boss. Man... this is gonna be unpleasant.

{{GM}}Gobbet closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. After a moment, she opens them again and makes a strange grunting noise.{{/GM}}
There's no fear here, $(l.name). No anger, either. Just this kind of... satisfied feeling.

Tong never saw it coming, and whoever did it was professional about it. Which is pretty odd, because nobody's professional about eviscerating a body, as far as I know.
You think it was a hit?
You mean the murder wasn't some kind of animal attack?
I don't know why the killer was after Tong, but it definitely wasn't any kind of mindless creature, or even someone particularly passionate. It was somebody who planned this and executed it, and was glad about it.

I dunno, it kinda feels like it was just business as usual.
Tong's ruined carcass is as disgustingly mangled as it was before. Flies buzz and swarm around the cooling flesh.
Data Stick
Given to you by Kindly Cheng to be delivered to Strangler Bao in the Walled City.
The woman by the fire looks like she hasn't seen a bar of soap in weeks. Her companion doesn't look much better.

Their faces are streaked with soot and grime that the rain seems impotent to wash away.
Glad to see that you made it through that in one piece.
{{GM}}The woman smiles at you, revealing a set of crooked teeth.{{/GM}}

Please, come stand by the fire and get warm.
Tell us who you are first.
Yeah, sure. Thank you for your hospitality.
My name is Kara. Kara Leung.

{{GM}}She jerks her thumb at the rotund man huddled by her side.{{/GM}}

That's Patrick Lo.
{{GM}}He lifts his doughy face from the fire to squint at you.{{/GM}}

Hey. Welcome aboard.
The Sinking Ship is our home. When we heard sounds of trouble, we came running.
Wanna tell me what's up with the killer rats?
You helped us out back there. I appreciate it.
Seen any other strangers come through here recently?
The devil rats, you mean. They're becoming... something of a crisis for us. We don't know why they've started attacking, and we can't seem to wipe them out.

Truth be told, we could really use your help.
{{GM}}She smiles weakly.{{/GM}}

Of course.

I'm just hoping that you'll be willing to return the favor... we could really use the help.
I've got some questions. If you two are locals, maybe you can answer 'em.
We'll help you with your rat problem, but you need to help us first.
We aren't here to fight rats. We're looking for a friend of ours.
They exchange uneasy glances.
Uhh, sure.

{{GM}}She tries on a smile.{{/GM}}

Ask away.
What are your names?
So you two are the welcoming committee?
When did the devil rats first start appearing?
How many people live on the Sinking Ship?
You two don't seem very well equipped to fight against those things. No offense.
That answers my questions.
Yes. Malvina told us--
{{GM}}His companion cuts in.{{/GM}}

We were told to keep position up here and watch out for incoming vessels. Piracy is always a threat in these waters.

I can't tell you how happy we were to see a couple of friendly faces on-deck.
How do you know that we're friendly? We're heavily armed strangers, and you only just met us.
{{GM}}She chuckles.{{/GM}}

If you'd wanted to kill us, you'd have done it already, right?

Besides, we know you aren't pirates. You haven't tried to rob us yet.
A couple of months ago, I think? The days kind of flow together out here, it's hard to say.

They only started getting aggressive a couple of weeks ago, though.
Beats me. The population's been going down recently, though, I'll tell you that much.
A lot of the ship is barricaded. Off-limits. We have no idea how many people are living in those sections now. But when I first arrived on the Sinking Ship, there were at least a couple hundred souls onboard.

Attrition being what it is, I'd guess that there are maybe seventy of us left? Like he said, it's hard to say.
None taken. We're squatters, not soldiers.

We're doing our best, but I'd be lying if I said I weren't glad to have professionals on board.
Wanna tell us why your raft is crawling with those things?
{{GM}}Her smile fades.{{/GM}}

We don't know. At first, it was just a nuisance, but lately it's been getting a lot worse.

Those little monsters are threatening our nest. We try to kill them, but they just keep coming back.
Good. So... are you ready to help us?
{{GM}}He turns to his companion.{{/GM}}

Refresh my memory... didn't we just help peel a swarm of devil rats off of them a few seconds ago?
{{GM}}Is0bel heels to face the man, scowling.{{/GM}}

We didn't ask you to do that. We could have handled the rats on our own.

We're looking for a friend.
{{GM}}She sighs.{{/GM}}

All right. Describe this friend of yours to me.
She's young - about my age. Orkish, with a shaved scalp and dreadlocks.

Have you seen her?
I'm afraid not. I wish that we had, but we don't get to see many strangers here.
So how about it? Will you help us with our rat infestation, or not?
Yeah. We'll help.
Sorry, but we've got other priorities.
{{GM}}She breathes a sigh of relief.{{/GM}}

The rats have been a huge problem for us. Between the damage that they inflict and the disease they carry, they've made it impossible for us to keep up our regular maintenance duties on the raft.
If you'll follow us, we'll lead you down below decks. With your help, we'll get this ship cleaned out again.
I see.

{{GM}}Her voice is heavy with disappointment.{{/GM}}

Tell me about what you *are* here to do, then. Maybe we can help.
I see.

{{GM}}Her voice is heavy with disappointment.{{/GM}}

Tell me your friend's name, then. Maybe I can help you.
{{GM}}Is0bel cuts in, concern on her face.{{/GM}}

Gobbet. Her name is Gobbet.
Gobbet...

{{GM}}She frowns.{{/GM}}

...Nope, sorry. I don't think I know anyone by that name.
She's a Rat shaman. She lived here a few years ago.
Are you sure? She's an ork, about nineteen years old. She'd have gotten here within the last couple of hours.
She's a good friend of Malvina's. She's close with Cadmus, too.
{{GM}}She shrugs.{{/GM}}

I'm a pretty new addition here, myself. People come and go all the time. And I'm afraid that I've never met this friend of yours.

Sorry.
Maybe you've seen her and you just didn't realize it.

She's an ork, a little older than me. She's got a shaved scalp and dreadlocks.
No. I'm sorry, but your friend hasn't been here.

Truth be told, you're the first visitors we've seen in months.
If you haven't seen Gobbet, maybe you could take us to Cadmus. He lives on this raft.
Help us find Malvina. She's still in charge, right?
You know Cadmus?

{{GM}}She exchanges glances with her portly friend.{{/GM}}

...You haven't heard, then?
Heard what?
Your friend is sick. He got bitten by a devil rat and fell terribly ill.

We, uh... we think that it's VITAS.
What the hell is VITAS?
A disease... a really terrible one. Virally Induced Toxic Allergy Syndrome.
It's a neutered strain. You can get it from a bite, but you can't give it to anyone else.

That doesn't help you if you're the one who gets bit, though.
Most devil rats don't attack metahumans. We're too big for them to tangle with.

The swarm that we've got here on the raft are different. They're aggressive, and that's causing all kinds of problems for us.
Poor Cadmus. He's quarantined with the other victims down below, just waiting to die.

Hate to say it, but that is what's most likely to happen. Most people who contract VITAS don't get better.
If you could help clear a path to the quarantine area, we can take you there. You can see for yourself.
It isn't.
Yep. She's still in charge. Probably always will be.
Oh? It doesn't look like she's doing all that great a job to me.
{{GM}}She smiles through Is0bel's outburst, ignoring her.{{/GM}}

Malvina is a great woman. She organizes us, helps us to keep the Sinking Ship afloat.

This entire raft would've slipped beneath the waves a long time ago if it wasn't for her.
{{GM}}Patrick licks his lips and nods, wide-eyed.{{/GM}}

As long as we have her to guide us, we'll pull through.

Why don't you follow us? We'll take you to her.
Lead the way, then. We'll follow.
Hang on a second. I've got a few more questions to ask first.
Go ahead, then. Ask. But make it quick, all right? It's pissing rain out, and I'm freezing.
Is there anything else that you can tell me about the devil rat infestation?
When you said that the rats were keeping you from your regular maintenance duties, what did you mean?
You said that the devil rats carry a disease. What disease is that?
Why bother staying here at all? If I were you, I think that I'd pick up my things and go.
I'm satisfied for now. Go ahead and lead - we'll follow.
They've been a huge problem for us.

Between the damage that they inflict and the disease they carry, they've made it impossible for us to keep up our regular maintenance duties on the raft.
Maintenance duties?
Keeping a raft like this seaworthy is a full-time job. The devil rat infestation isn't helping with that.

We've got dozens of people below decks, scrounging for materials to fix leaks and shore up the weak parts of the hull.
If something doesn't happen soon, we're gonna have to stop working on her altogether. And if that happens, it's only a matter of time before she capsizes.
VITAS.

It's a non-replication capable strain. If you catch it, you can't pass it on to anyone else... but it can still kill you.
{{GM}}Patrick's doughy face goes red.{{/GM}}

This is our home. Our *nest.* We ain't gonna leave it, no matter what--
{{GM}}The woman interjects, cutting her partner short.{{/GM}}

What he means to say is that we don't have anywhere else *to* go.

If we were to abandon the Sinking Ship, we'd probably wind up getting forced into the Walled City.
The hatch down below is just over this way. We'll show you down.
I know Malvina and Cadmus. Never heard of your friend, though.

Sorry.
{{GM}}She shakes her head no.{{/GM}}

'Fraid not... you're the first outsiders to visit our little raft in months. I hope that doesn't keep you from staying, though!

We, uh... we could really use the help.
{{GM}}Her smile widens.{{/GM}}

Of course! We don't get strangers here often, and it's far too miserable out to turn away a guest.
{{GM}}A well-dressed man sits alone at the bar, elbows propped atop the counter. His face is hard. Eyes blank. He swirls the contents of his half-empty glass as if in a stupor.

{{GM}}Between the swollen eyes and whiskey double, it isn't hard to guess his mood.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}As you approach, he rubs his temples and graces you with a lazy sideways glance. Mumbles under his breath.{{/GM}}

Yeah... Not like I can dig myself any deeper.
Excuse me? I didn't catch that.
Rough day?
You have a problem? 'Cause that attitude is the best way to find one.
{{GM}}He grunts.{{/GM}}

Nothing.

Just... You ever have one of those days where it all goes to hell?
Story of my life. But judging from your appearance, *you* must not have them often.
Can't say I have. What happened to you, mate?
Sure. But nothing that's lead me to an endless bottle.
Hm?

{{GM}}He looks at you again through dull, bloodshot eyes, but his gaze drifts elsewhere before returning to his drink.{{/GM}}
Lost two contracts, missed a third, late for a meeting, and publicly shamed by my coworker. All during the nine to five. New record, far as I can tell.

{{GM}}He takes a long pull from his glass. Exhales.{{/GM}}

Least I got that going for me.
How'd you lose your contracts?
Your coworker sounds like an asshole. How'd you get shamed?
Best of luck with that, but I've gotta get going.
Wish I knew. One of them was almost a done deal. But for some reason the client suddenly changed their tune, and the contract slipped away before I could officially close it.
The other two contracts were for ongoing clients - people I'd worked with for *years,* but I somehow forgot about their annual renewal date, and a more diligent coworker picked them up.

I got no credit for the long-term partnership with those clients. If anything, I now look worse for losing them. Even though *I* brought them in to Wuxing in the first place.

{{GM}}He leans back and lets out a weary groan. His breath reeks of alcohol.{{/GM}}
Sounds like too many coincidences to me. Think someone's working against you?
And just who is this diligent coworker of yours?
This doesn't sit right. You ever forgotten something as big as a contract renewal before?
You kidding me? Everyone's at each other's throat in this business.

{{GM}}He downs the rest of his drink. Signals to the bartender. In a single movement, the bartender leans over and refills the glass.{{/GM}}
Fair. But is there someone who would have benefited most from what's happened to you?
I'm serious, Henry.
You know what I think? I think you're scared of the truth.
{{GM}}He considers this.{{/GM}}

The newcomer. David.

{{GM}}Henry nods his head toward a group at the end of the bar, an elf at its center.{{/GM}}

*Him.* He came out of nowhere and has become a rock star with upper management. He's been making connections and deals like a Wuxing veteran. Like me.
That's odd.
I think you found your culprit.
He's definitely up to no good.
You're telling me. You wanna know what *I* think?

{{GM}}He leans toward you, glassy eyes looking through you to who-knows-where. The scent of booze wafts off him.{{/GM}}

I think he's got family connections. People in high places. And he's been using them to his advantage.
{{GM}}He backs off and shrugs, rocking precariously on his chair.{{/GM}}

I don't know. It's just a thought.
You might be on to something.
{{GM}}Henry grunts and stares into his glass.{{/GM}}

No... no. Just wishful thinking.
Well, I'm going to find out.
If you say so. See you around.
{{GM}}He mumbles into his drink.{{/GM}}

So am I.
Think about it. Anyone at work been extra hard-pressed or unusually lucky?
The hell does that mean?
You *know* what I mean. There's gotta be *someone* whose activity borders on suspicious.
Him.

{{GM}}He nods his head toward a group at the end of the bar, an elf at its center.{{/GM}}

*David.*
{{GM}}He laughs bitterly to himself, the motion drawn out and sluggish.{{/GM}}

Props to him. My clients... they talk real big about networking and all that, right? But they'd sell their own family to save a couple nuyen.
And you know the strangest part? My clients have started ignoring me. Even avoiding me. And when they *do* respond to my inquiries, they're curt and dismissive.

It's almost as if I've offended them somehow. But I haven't done anything at all!

{{GM}}His voice cracks in frustration.{{/GM}}
I'm going to see what David has to say about all this.
Something's not right here.
Best of luck to you.
Bah. Talking to him is a waste of time. He's just an empty suit - all airs, no substance.

{{GM}}He slams back the last of his drink and clumsily turns to face you, but his eyes lock onto David.{{/GM}}

It's your time to waste. I won't stop you.
{{GM}}Henry lifts his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug and lets out a slow sigh.{{/GM}}

Maybe. Maybe not. It's only an observation. What do I know? I'm just rambling drunk.
Never.

I am - *was* - damn good at my job. I kept all my important appointments scheduled weeks in advance on my work terminal. Never missed a single date. Until now.
{{GM}}He slouches forward. Shakes his head. The gesture's hasty, as if he's trying to wake himself.{{/GM}}

But I have a lot of clients. Maybe I just forgot to schedule these contract's renewal dates. There's a first for everything.
Seems unlikely.
Or maybe you've been sabotaged.
What are you, blind?
It sounds like someone's working against you.
Sabotaged? And how the hell do you figure that?
My gut tells me someone's behind all this.
{{GM}}He stares at you in surprise.{{/GM}}

What d'you mean?
No way this is all coincidence. Seems to me like you have yourself an enemy.
Negligence. My coworker took two of my contracts while they were in renewal. I'd overlooked them for a day or two.

Damn. It was just a couple of days...

{{GM}}He sighs, and begins to sway. Whether it's involuntary or to calm himself is uncertain, but his chair creeks loudly in protest.{{/GM}}

Anyway. He took my clients and made a fool of me. Been rubbing it in ever since.
{{GM}}He lets out a low, throaty laugh.{{/GM}}

Yeah. Since I've been *so* lucky. Here's to you, friend.

{{GM}}Another swig, and he's lost in his thoughts.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Henry gazes into the tall drink in front of him.{{/GM}}

You came back.
Listen. That David prick you mentioned? Turns out he broke into your work terminal and sent your clients some nasty messages in your name. Then he swooped in and stole them.
{{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} Hey, just talked to David. From what he said, it sounds like he stole your clients.
How ya doing over here?
Oh, my bad. Got something to do.
{{GM}}A spark of sobriety washes over Henry. The dullness in his eyes drains away, and he sits up, alarmed.{{/GM}}

That... that explains why no one would return my messages.
{{GM}}With a grunt, he smashes his fist onto the counter. He turns towards David and mutters through clenched teeth.{{/GM}}

He wants to play dirty? I can handle it. I can handle *him.*

{{GM}}He jumps up and marches toward David.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Henry's fresh gulp of inebriation erupts across the counter top. He look sat you, incredulous.{{/GM}}

What? What do you mean?
It's like you said. He used his contacts, his family, to acquire your clients.
THAT CHEATING--

{{GM}}What follows is a long string of slurs. Some of which you've never heard before. Whether they're real, or the incomprehensible babble of a drunk man, is unknown.{{/GM}}

--BASTARD.

{{GM}}The word punctuates his tirade with an air of finality.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}His bar stool screeches as he jumps up from his seat and marches toward David.{{/GM}}
Swell.

{{GM}}He takes a swig.{{/GM}}

Just... fantastic.
Orthoskin (Bioware)
Weaves grafts of synthagen, an energy-diffusing material, under the skin to mitigate incoming trauma. Passive: +1 Armor.
Welcome, LAO ZHENG. Please input your password to log in.
{{GM}}Access the login field.{{/GM}}
tennyson
{{CC}}Decking: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Easy){{/CC}} {{GM}}Bypass the login system.{{/GM}}
Hey Is0bel, can I get a hand with this login screen?
This section of the OS has a security hole that lets you bypass the password without cracking it, by spoofing the user credentials.
On it.

{{GM}}She clacks out a few command strings on the terminal.{{/GM}}

Easy. This section of the OS has a security hole that'll let me bypass the password without cracking it. Just have to spoof our user credentials.

Here we go. The root menu.
Welcome, LAO ZHENG. Your local files have been updated. Select how you wish to proceed.
{{GM}}Access the file system.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Access the office room controls.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Access the remote building controls.{{/GM}}
Business-related files fill the sub-menu, most of them about contracts, construction plans, and financial projections.

Among the files are several saved emails. Three of the most recent ones stand out.
{{GM}}Open RE: Museum Details{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Open RE: On-Site Accident Requires Imm...{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Open RE: Retracting Investment{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Return to the root menu.{{/GM}}
>>*Lao Zheng*
>>to: Chou & Sun Construction Co.
>>RE: Museum Details

Chou,

Per our previous discussion, I've attached to this email the revised museum blueprints. The prints outline various changes to the structure and building materials that need to be implemented as soon as possible.
Some backtracking may be necessary, but it will cut supply and building costs by over thirteen percent without compromising the museum's size and grandeur.

I know you're against it, but production output will have to increase in order to meet our end-of-year unveiling. I'll leave it up to you to figure out the details. But if I find that you and your team are slacking off again, more cuts will be made.
As to the loss of your worker, Mr. Fei, I offer you my condolences. However, we both know construction is dangerous work, and accidents are commonplace. You can look at this as an opportunity to hire someone more competent, and who won't get himself killed.

Zheng, Lao
Ganxian Enterprises
>>*Melissa Sung*
>>to: Lao Zheng{{/GM}}
>>RE: On-Site Accident Requires Immediate Deescalation

Zheng,

I processed your informal request yesterday morning. Given a persuasive pittance, the Fei family agreed to forgo public retribution regarding the loss of Mr. Qian Fei.
Mr. Fei is the fourth laborer lost to hazardous working conditions. Public image is very important to the cooperation, and it's unlikely another transgression will go unnoticed. As your lawyer, I must advise you to double-down on your construction safety protocols, or to seek an alternative to monetary bribes. Money will buy silence in the short-term, but we ultimately want a more permanent solution.
I'll forward you the contact information of a Ganxian-funded organization that can assist you with such matters.

Sung, Melissa
Qilin Legal Practice,
A Ganxian Subsidiary
>>*Lao Zheng*
>>to: Marcus Ping
>>RE: Retracting Investment

Dear Mr. Ping,

I can assure you that the recent rumors regarding construction infractions, worker fatalities, and malpractice are all untrue. Complete fiction invented by the local gossip circuits to stir up trouble for hardworking men like myself.
I've taken every possible precaution with this museum, and have spared no expense. Should you need proof, I'll send you my lawyer's contact information. I promise you'll find no infractions filed against me or Ganxian Enterprises. Your investment is sound.

Your friend,
Zheng, Lao
Ganxian Enterprises
The computer redirects you to the root menu.
{{GM}}It appears this room is rigged to respond to computer-generated commands. The options are few.{{/GM}}

> AMBIANCE: CANDLELIGHT
> AMBIANCE: BUSINESS CASUAL
> RESTRICTED ACCESS: LAO ZHENG
{{GM}}Select the menu option AMBIANCE: CANDLELIGHT.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Select the menu option AMBIANCE: BUSINESS CASUAL.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Select the menu option RESTRICTED ACCESS: LAO ZHENG.{{/GM}}
The room's lighting fades to an orange hue that flickers arrhythmically as electronic candles activate by the doorway. You're returned to the ROOM CONTROLS menu.
The room's lighting intensifies and shifts through various colors. You're returned to the ROOM CONTROLS menu.
This sub-menu is locked with a secured password.
{{CC}}Decking: 1{{/CC}} {{GM}}Attempt to bypass the password.{{/GM}}
Is0bel, why is this menu still locked?
The nearby bookshelf begins to move.
It's no use. This section of the OS is secure enough to prevent bypasses.
{{GM}}Is0bel saunters up to the terminal for a better look.{{/GM}}

Hmm. Looks like this area uses a different password hashing system.

The spoof I was able to do earlier won't get through here. Got any good guesses?
> ERROR
>> REMOTE BUILDING CONTROLS OFFLINE
>>> REASON: NETWORK CONNECTIVITY UNAVAILABLE
This place is still under construction. The local matrix network probably hasn't been hooked up yet.
Infection: HP -6 per RND
Throwing Knife
A simple knife, balanced for throwing.
Reduces an ally's chance to be hit by 25%, and increases their Movement by 1. Lasts one round. Shares a cooldown with other Blur spells.
Last-Gen Lined Coat
Lined with rigid plates, this duster has handy attach points for cabling to be used with decks or drone control kits.
Magic Resistance 3
All enemies within a range of 3 squares of the spirit are infected. This does 10 HP DMG and an ongoing 5 HP and 1 AP DMG for 3 RNDs.
Cast Mind Wipe
Changes target threat list
Static Shock III
An area shock attack that also does AP DMG. Ongoing 4 HP & 1 AP DMG for 1 RND.
Lightning: HP -4, AP -1 per RND
A fiery explosion that also does ongoing 2 HP DMG for 2 RNDS. Strips 1 Armor from affected targets.
On Fire: HP -2 per RND
Cast Quick Strike
Magic Quick Strike
An open junction box juts out from the wall, its cover hanging by a single screw. Wires criss cross over one another in a chaotic jumble, and the whole apparatus appears to be held together with electrical tape.
Jury-rigged, like everything else here.

{{GM}}She frowns at the tangle of wiring, clucking her tongue in disapproval.{{/GM}}

That's really sloppy work. You'd think that in an environment like this, they'd at least try to do some basic waterproofing.
{{GM}}She traces the wall-mounted cables that snake out from the box with her eyes. Follows them to their termination point.{{/GM}}

Looks like this box is feeding power to that door over there. If we were to short it, we might be able to get the thing open.
{{CC}}Drone Control: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Medium){{/CC}} {{GM}}Rewire the system to overload.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Item: Maintenance Datapad{{/CC}} {{GM}}Follow the instructions to disarm the door locks.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Attempt to overload the electrical system.{{/GM}}
You examine the rats' nest of wires, tracing each connection to its point of origin. You then snip and rewire the system to feed power back into itself.

Five minutes and the job is done. It's really no more difficult than swapping out the communication protocol module in a Strato-9.
The results of your work are immediate and spectacular. You hear a deafening cracking sound, and a blinding flash of light stabs your eyes. Moments later, the hall fills with the overpowering stench of ozone.

The overhead lights flutter. Up ahead, you can hear the sound of a set of door locks disengaging.
You examine the rats' nest of wires, tracing each connection to its point of origin. Following the instructions on the datapad, you then snip and rewire the system to feed power back into itself.
You stare at the mess of knotted and frayed wires. It's like looking into the mouth of chaos, but you struggle to make sense of it.

Eventually, you narrow down your options.
The typical color-coding system for internal wiring has obviously been ignored by whoever wired the Sinking Ship in the first place. But you think that cutting and reconnecting one of three wires might do the trick.

Of course, choosing the wrong wire could result in a nasty shock...
Is0bel, do you know which of these wires I should cut?
{{GM}}Cut the yellow-blue wire.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Cut the black wire.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Cut the red wire.{{/GM}}
What I know is that if you mess with that thing, you're gonna get yourself killed.

*I* wouldn't even feel comfortable trying to rewire that box. Nothing is labeled, most of the wires are frayed, and you don't have the right equipment anyway.
Seriously, $(l.name). You're not an electrician.

Let's find another way past the door.
Slowly, tentatively, you reach forward and snip the wire, then reconnect it in a different configuration.
The result is immediate and explosive. Electricity arcs into and through you. There's a blinding flash of light, and you can smell the stench of charred meat - your meat.

The pain is excruciating.
The junction box continues spitting sparks, but nothing else seems to change - the lights don't flicker, and you don't hear the thunk of a door unlocking.

Holding your hand, you turn away.
The junction box hangs open, a tangle of wires spilling out of its scratched and dented casing.
Hermetic Fetish
Possession of this fetish grants a benefit of +1 Willpower.
Beretta Model 70
SMG: A small submachine gun with big damage potential.
A cadaverous husk materializes in front of you, unfolding like a flower from nothingness into being. It stands with a surprisingly upright posture, and you can see that its robes were once of fine quality.

It raises a hand to block your path.
Stop.

{{GM}}The thing's voice comes out in a hollow rasp. Something about it feels empty.{{/GM}}

It seems you can move freely through this realm. Coming and going. Taking what is not yours.
What are you?
I was once a man, much as you are. Now I am a dead man.

My soul is bound to this place, and I cannot leave.
I was once a man. Now I am a dead man.

My soul is bound to this place, and I cannot leave.
Ah, a $(l.man) of action. Good.

{{GM}}The creature nods at you, its teeth gleaming.{{/GM}}

I want out of this tomb. I must free myself from this place. But... I cannot leave. My soul is bound to these catacombs, chained to the bones of a life that I no longer possess.
I was an assistant to a great man. An emperor. I was meant to continue assisting him in the afterlife.

But something was unsettled. Bonds were broken. He is no longer here, and I wish to search for him elsewhere.
I want out of this tomb. I must free myself from this place. But... I cannot leave. My soul is bound these catacombs, chained to the bones of a life that I no longer possess.
So you think I can get you out of here somehow?
I'm not helping a zombie break out of here.
This place is bizarre. What is happening down here?
You can.

{{GM}}Slowly, painfully, the mummy inclines its head. It reaches into the folds of its robes and produces a ring of fired porcelain.

The creature extends its arm, presenting the object as an offering.{{/GM}}
Take this talisman and place it among the other artifacts you have removed.

Once you have moved it beyond the binding threshold of this excavation, I will be free.
Let's say that I do this. What's in it for me?
{{GM}}Take the talisman.{{/GM}} Okay, I'll do it.
{{GM}}Attack the mummy.{{/GM}} I don't think so. You're staying here.
The sure knowledge that you have done what is right.
You're gonna have to do better than that.
Screw that. I'm not lifting a finger for you without getting paid.
Well, I *do* enjoy doing what's right...
How do I know that I can trust you?
When I am free, I will give you a thing. A token. Crumble it in your hands, and I will come to your aid... but only once. One time, and no more.

{{GM}}The mummy's eyeless sockets seem to stare into you. Through you.{{/GM}}

Will this be sufficient, $(l.race)? Will you accept my offer?
Thank you.

{{GM}}The mummy inclines its head.{{/GM}}

I will be forever in your debt.
As do I.

When I am free, I will give you a thing. A token. Crumble it in your hands, and I will come to your aid... but only once. One time, and no more.
{{GM}}The mummy's eyeless sockets seem to stare into you. Through you.{{/GM}}

Will you accept my offer?
{{GM}}There's a long pause.{{/GM}}

...You don't. How could you?

But I am a man of my word.
Zombie? I am unfamiliar with this term.

I am just a dead man whose task remains unfulfilled. Nothing more.
The books that you carry… they are alive.

They protect themselves, distort space, and draw creatures to them who will serve.
Our exalted had the will to contain them. Wherever you intend to send them, I hope that an equally strong mind will keep them under control.
Static Shock II
Tar Bomb 3.0
The liquor cabinet is full of expensive wines and spirits. Several decanters sit atop it, but one in particular catches your eye: a bottle of brilliantly bright red wine.
{{GM}}Steal a sip.{{/GM}}
You take a gulp and quickly gag. The wine's strangely warm, given the temperature of the room, and disgustingly salty.
What is wrong with you, $(l.man)?! D'you usually dip into people's wine collections while illegally searching their houses?
But look at that color. It's begging to be drunk.
Lesson learned. Gross.
Just one more sip...
I don't give a damn how it looks. We break into an apartment, and you dribble your DNA all over the booze locker!

{{GM}}Duncan pulls an alcohol swab from his belt pouch and wipes off the mouth of the decanter, mumbling angrily to himself. He shakes his head.{{/GM}}

I swear, $(l.name), it's like you're allergic to common sense.
I don't care if it's cat piss or Zeus' tears. What I *do* care about is that you've just left DNA evidence in an apartment we've broken into.
{{GM}}Duncan pulls an alcohol swab from his belt pouch and wipes off the mouth of the decanter, mumbling angrily to himself. He shakes his head.{{/GM}}

I swear, $(l.name). Sometimes...
Interesting.

{{GM}}His nose wrinkles as he tastes the air.{{/GM}}

I'll... be taking that with me, if you don't mind.
Go ahead. It's vile.
Just leave it. We don't want the owner to see it's missing.
Wait. Just one more sip...
Not your vintage, hm? I'm not surprised. But *I* find the aroma quite enticing.

{{GM}}He stows the bottle in his pack.{{/GM}}
If you insist.
The second swig is no better than the first. Still as salty and disgusting as before.
Pebble
Causes a distracting sound but does no DMG.
A tranquilizing narcotic. Incoming DMG is reduced by 4 for 5 RNDS of combat. Strength is reduced by 1.
Three people - possibly locals - are busily hunched over, avidly discussing something beneath their breath.

From the looks of them, they appear to be sailors. Rough-hewn clothes stained by salt, leathery skin, and an acute awareness of being on land. You watch their feet shuffle awkwardly on the docks.
{{GM}}Their whispers are just within earshot.{{/GM}}

Naw, I asked Crafty, and she said the same. Them dreams is bad.
Think we'll lose them at sea? We're supposed to set out soon to make that delivery. What if they follow us?

{{GM}}You see the man shudder.{{/GM}}
Eh, don't think so. Crafty said these things is just affecting right here for now.

{{GM}}The first sailor points to the ground.{{/GM}}

Soon as we sail, dreams'll stop.
Hey!

{{GM}}The third sailor sees you, and taps her friends on the arms. They shoot upright. One examines his fingernails, another coughs loudly and begins to hum, and the last pretends she didn't see you. But when they sense your continued stare, the third speaks up.{{/GM}}

What're you looking at, Landy?
There was a boat here with a merchant selling goods not too long ago. He leave?
I overheard you talking about the dreams. I've had them, too.
Didn't mean to interrupt. See you around.
{{GM}}The three sailors' suspicions turn into smirks. One snickers to herself.{{/GM}}

"Merchant," $(l.he) says. That crook didn't so much as leave as he was chased off by Kindly. No sales permit. Not a big loss, though - the local shops have way better stuff than that smalltime hustler.
Why don't you look around? You'll find the shop owners here more friendly toward you now that you've gotten the okay from Kindly.
{{GM}}They all exchange a look. The first sailor responds.{{/GM}}

Right... And stay careful 'round these parts.
{{GM}}You feel an uneasiness pass through the sailors.{{/GM}}

Seems anyone who comes by these parts is having them.
And soon as they leave, the dreams stop.

Right eerie, it is.
Any leads on why they're happening?
You're all acting like a bunch of fools.
They're bound to stop eventually.
Mmm. We don't know much ourselves. We've only just returned from our last delivery, but the dreams ambushed us fast enough.
Hey, what about that Crafty?

{{GM}}The sailor turns to you.{{/GM}}

She runs the Five Phases. Smart girl. Might know a thing or two about this blight. You ask her, and she may have somethin' more to say.
Fools! You hear that, crew?
Yeah, my eyes might be goin', but my ears is still good. This landy thinks we're a pack of idiots.

{{GM}}He glares at you. The man bites his lip, sucking in the sea air through the holes of missing teeth.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The second sailor raises his hands to lessen the tension.{{/GM}}

You landies think of us sailors as a superstitious bunch. That may be, but not a one of you can say we've imagined these dreams. It's happening right and left without discrimination.

You have yourself a word with Crafty over at the Five Phases, and get yourself educated on this blight before calling us seafaring folks fools. Ya hear?
We sure as hell hope so!

I've had but one myself, and I can't imagine having another. That sense of *dread* that accompanies them...
Doesn't matter - we're leaving soon. Plan on putting a few miles between us and these troubled waters.
Listen here, stranger.

{{GM}}One of the sailors turns toward you.{{/GM}}

You have questions 'bout them dreams, you go ask Crafty. She runs the Five Phases. Smart girl. Might know a thing or two about this blight.
Sure. Thanks.
The three mumble to themselves, their heads bobbing like buoys in approval.
The brooding tide of whispers resumes as your back turns to the sailors.
Improved Mercy Kill
+4 DMG. Can only be used on the very wounded (less than 25% HP). 99% to hit.
Cast Water Bolt
Water Bolt Attack
Poison Fog
An lingering area effect spell that damages anyone passing through. Lasts for 3 RNDS.
Killing Hands (Active)
The adept's hands become lethal weapons for 4 RNDS, increasing DMG by 7 HP.
Dried blood and clots clog the drain. As you look closer, however, something catches your eye - an off-red color that doesn't match the hues of the gore around the drain. Bending closer, it appears to be a small nugget of some kind.
{{GM}}Fish the item out.{{/GM}}
The nugget, upon closer inspection, is a chunk of some kind of synthetic ferro-plastic. It's got ragged edges, as if it was broken off of a larger object. A number of small markings are partially obscured by scratches.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Academic{{/CC}} {{GM}}Decypher the emblems.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Examine the markings more closely.{{/GM}}
Brushing away some of the dust, you peer at the fragmentary bit of ferro-plastic.

The scratches and markings on the nugget seem vaguely familiar, and after a moment it strikes you: you're not seeing the entirety of the markings, as the rest remain on the parent piece of ferrocrete.
Were the scratches to be completed, they would read "Renraku kagaku kabushiki-gaisha" - the Japanese name for Renraku Applied Sciences, the branch of Renraku Asia responsible for materials science.
Brushing away some of the dust, you peer at the fragmentary bit of ferro-plastic.

The scratches and markings on the nugget look like Chinese, but despite how closely you look, you can't decypher their meaning.
After a moment, you realize the reason: not only are the markings fragmentary, the language is actually Japanese. The characters are close enough to be familiar, but too different for you to read.

Maybe an expert in armor or foreign languages could help.
You know, I'm not sure who in Whampoa Garden speaks Japanese... But Wing-Kei Kwok has a shop down in the Whampoa itself, by where we met the Elders. If anybody around here would know about armor, it would be her.
Storm Drain Key
A key to an old-style tumbler lock. It's patinated with age.
A crushing claw attack that does 14 HP DMG.
Premium Medkit
The premium medkit that heals you or any team member. Consumed when used. Can be used outside of combat.
Does an additional 2 AP DMG, and -1 AP the following RND. Cooldown: 2
Tar Bomb 2.0
An area-effect Matrix attack that deals -50 IP DMG to IC and deckers, and roots them in place for 1 RND.
You wake with a start, your limbs bound up in a sweaty tangle of linen bedsheets. An incredible sorrow swells in your chest.

You feel empty, half-starved, and alone. Fragmentary memories of a half-remembered dream flit through your mind; they're already fading away to nothing.
{{GM}}Chase the memories.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Let them fade.{{/GM}}
You close your eyes and concentrate, willing yourself to keep the dream from slipping away.

Gradually, the memory comes back to you.
The Walled City. You were back in the Walled City.

You don't remember how you got there, but it couldn't have been anyplace else. Even the Barrens weren't so squalid.
You remember craning your neck to look above you. The buildings that made up this part of the Walled City were new construction, even cheaper than the old. Now their foundations had rotted out from under them, and the buildings leaned into one another like a gang of drunken men.

A rain of plaster and asbestos sprinkled down, dusting your shoulders.
You began to creep forward, picking your way past the piles of refuse and debris. Past the pimps and the dumpster fires, the broken glass and the dirty needles.

The air reeked of rot and sewage and industrial waste, a disgusting melange that caught in your sinuses and crawled down your throat. You gagged on the stink, but it didn't slow you down.
In the back of your mind, you knew that you had no reason to be doing this. There was nothing for you in the Walled City. You shouldn't have been there.

But the rest of you was hungry... unbearably, indescribably hungry. And that part of you knew that if you keep moving, you'd finally get to eat.
As you forced your way deeper into the Walled City, locals stood at their windows and stared. Inexplicably, some of them dropped to their knees. You kept moving.

You could see something in the distance - a silhouette. Something enormous, at least twice the size of a troll, but delicate.

It was beautiful.
The huge figure beckoned you, gesturing with slender limb. An explosion of warmth filled your chest, and you knew that if only you could reach it, your problems would be over. It - *she* - would make all of your sorrows disappear.

You moved forward at a crawl, but the figure felt impossibly far away. You reached out, calling to her, and--
...And then you woke up.

The empty feeling in your stomach slowly fades, taking the strength and vibrance of the memories along with it.
You blink three, four times, letting seconds pass between closing your eyes and opening them again. Shake your head.

Something is nagging at you. A lingering unease.

All at once, the memories hit you with the force of a sledgehammer, cracking dead-center into your forebrain.
You wake with a start. Once again, you're tangled in your sheets, drenched in sweat.

Your throat feels like it's on fire.
You can't remember what your dreams were about - not precisely. But again you feel that yearning sensation, the emptiness in your gut and in your chest.

Your head throbbing, you heave yourself out of bed.
A stabbing pain in your stomach jolts you awake. Your entire abdomen is cramping up.

You roll in your cot, willing the shooting pains that radiate from your stomach to go away. Your mouth is bone-dry, and your tongue is swollen - it feels thick and inarticulate, like a useless slab of meat.
A quick glance at your PDA tells you that it's 4:00 AM. Outside of your cabin, the rest of Heoi sleeps.
All that you remember of the dream that you awoke from is a horrible, unfulfilled yearning, and a need to get where you were going *first.* Others were behind you - you could feel the heat of their breath on your neck.

If you were to beat them to your destination, you could slam the door in their faces, keep them out and away from what was yours. But if they overtook you, you would feel that terrible longing forever.
As you grasp at your last fleeting memories of the dream, a wave of exhaustion washes over you. It feels like you've been drugged.
You collapse back into your cot, and into a black, dreamless sleep.

When you open your eyes again, the sun filters in under your door. It's morning.
For the first time since you got to Hong Kong, you wake up feeling well-rested and satisfied.

Flexing your limbs feels glorious - it’s as though you’ve spent hours cramped up in a confined space, and you can finally stretch your legs.
{{GM}}Climb out of bed.{{/GM}}
You push yourself up and touch your feet to the ground, but something stops you short: your mouth.

Something is wrong with your mouth.
{{GM}}Investigate with your hands.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Run your tongue over your teeth.{{/GM}}
You reach your hand up and run a finger over your teeth. It doesn't take long to find the source of the problem: a molar on the upper left side.

You apply slight pressure to the tooth, and it slides out of your gums with no resistance. It's as if nothing was ever holding it in place to begin with.
As the tooth comes free in your hand, an image etches itself into your mind.

A great chamber, hazy in form and outline. Clouds of red mist that fill the air, perfuming it with salt and copper. Great columns stretching up from the ground to pierce the sky. And above it all, the enormous, grinding gears of a broken machine.
In the distance, you can hear a sound. A desperate, frantic pounding. Something enormous at the door, many somethings, all desperate to get in. Scrabbling and scratching and scraping, but unable to find purchase.

The way in is locked. You feel a tremendous sense of accomplishment: you've done it. The others are trapped outside, blind and starving, unable to pass through the door. The chamber - and what lies beyond it - are *yours.*
A shrill giggling noise fills the air, like a laughter of small child mixed with the shivering screech of countless violins. The sound reverberates down your spine like an electric current.

The intoxicating aroma of meat fills your nostrils. You have been starving for a thousand years. Soon, it will be time to feed.
And just like that, it's over. The images fade, dissipating like vapor.

Only the tooth in your hand remains.
You let your tongue move over your teeth until you reach the problem area: a molar on the upper left side. It feels... strange.

You apply a little pressure to the tooth, and it slides free from its moorings. It's as if nothing was ever holding it in place to begin with.
As you pass in front of the Walled City, something takes hold of your chest and squeezes. An internal pang, like a panic attack but worse.

You feel your chest compress, and for a second, the world turns to liquid. It takes all the effort you can muster to keep from falling over.
A strobing patchwork of images flashes before your eyes. Fragments of dream and sense-memory all stitched together, playing on a loop in your head.

Walled City residents kneeling. The churning sound of grinding gears. Leaning buildings, soiled streets. Used needles on a sidewalk.
The images come faster and faster. Teeth. Thousands and thousands of teeth. The Redmond Barrens, and the first man you ever saw killed. A crown of ivory over a shimmering veil. Duncan at age ten, his legs pumping, running for his life from a pack of Halloweeners. Strange anatomy that doesn't make sense to your logical mind.

A door. A heavy industrial door. Something is written on it in faded yellow paint, but you can't make it out--
And just like that, the slideshow ends. The images fade to nothing, returning you to the Heoi streets.

The outermost facade of the Walled City towers over you, huge and oppressive. A group of Kindly Cheng's Blue Lanterns pass you by, oblivious to the event that just took place in your head.
{{GM}}Try to walk it off.{{/GM}}
You take a step forward, then another. You still feel woozy, but you don't need to take a knee.

The event - whatever it was - is over. Your mind is your own.
You awaken from a blank, featureless sleep, sweat-soaked and starving. You feel uneasy, but you can't say why.

Groggily, you heave yourself out of bed.
A sketchy looking man in a long, shabby coat stands in the middle of the bathroom floor, teetering on his feet.

He blinks at you through red-rimmed eyes crusted over with sleep.
Hey, there. Are you uh...

{{GM}}He checks the screen of his PDA.{{/GM}}

..."The Imperator"? 'Cause if you are, I... uh... I got your stuff.
Yup! That's me.
No, I'm not.
What the hell kind of a name is that?
Great. Great, great.

{{GM}}He lifts an overstuffed plastic shopping bag.{{/GM}}

Here, you wanna see the whole stock? Or do you just wanna buy the items that we discussed?
Let me see your full stock.
Just give me what we agreed on, I guess.
{{GM}}He closes his shopping bag and pulls it back to his chest.{{/GM}}

Yeah, that was good... real good. Good doin' business.

You, want anything else?
All right. I oughtta warn you, though... Hyper-EX ain't cheap.

{{GM}}He extends his bag and opens it wide. Down at the bottom, buried under a mountain of loose pills, is a shiny plastic bottle.{{/GM}}

It's the bottle. You're gonna have to fish it out if you want it. And, uh, be careful... I think that there are a few loose needles in there.
{{GM}}Fish through the dealer's inventory.{{/GM}} Sure, I'll take a look. Why not?
On second thought, nevermind.
Good stuff, huh? So *niiice.*

You, uh... you want anything else?
What? Why not?

{{GM}}He scowls at you.{{/GM}}

Fine, it doesn't matter. Someone else will buy... someone always does. Now get lost.
Oh, well you looking to score? If so, I'm your hookup.
Let me see the whole stock.
{{GM}}He closes his shopping bag and pulls it back to his chest.{{/GM}}

You, uh... you want anything else?
Beats me. I don't get you deckers. You all choose stupid names.

Look, I don't care if you're the doofus who messaged me, or some other doofus. I've got stuff to sell. Do you want it, or not?
Back already. You jonesing for more? Need some pills?

{{GM}}He opens the mouth of his shopping bag wide and shakes it. The pills look like candy, and the plastic rustles invitingly.{{/GM}}

I got pills. All kinds, all jumbled together. They're *real* pretty.
Yeah, let's see what you've got.
{{GM}}He closes his shopping bag and pulls it back to his chest.{{/GM}}

What else do you want?
Exclusive Medkit
This medkit is usually only sold to VIP clients of DocWagon. It will heal you or any team member. Consumed when used. Can be used outside of combat.
Qi Onslaught
Make 3 melee attacks on one target with a -15% to hit. Increases chance for critical DMG. Cooldown: 1
Sapped: Willpower -2, HP -2 per RND
Crowd Control
Gain Item:
Modded Flashbang
Duncan standard equipment now includes a new flashbang that has a larger AOE, increased by 1 tile in all directions.
Augment Ability: Subdue
Duncan's Subdue ability has its cooldown reduced from 3 RNDs to 2 RNDs.
Gain Item:
Gas Grenade
Duncan gains a new consumable item, a gas grenade. The grenade does minor HP DMG, but creates a cloud of choking gas which does AP DMG to the affected targets.
Gain Weapon:
Shock Baton
Duncan gains a new weapon, a melee range shock baton. It does 4 HP and 2 AP DMG per hit, but must be recharged every two hits.
Gain Ability: Underslung Bean Bag
Duncan gains a rifle ability that does 2 AP damage and imbalances targets, making them easier to hit on subsequent attacks. This ability cannot do critical DMG. Cost: 1 AP. Cooldown: 2.
Static Shock I
Same as Buff
Activate Stride
Advanced Medkit
The advanced medkit that heals you or any team member. Consumed when used. Can be used outside of combat.
Gaichu's box of personal effects is overflowing with a collection of souvenirs, mementos, and knickknacks. There is no rhyme or reason to the collection of items - they appear to have been thrown in haphazardly.

Laying atop the box are a collection of antique Japanese coins inside an overturned wooden mask, and a black lacquered box with gold inlay.
{{GM}}Gaichu cocks his head, sniffing the air in your direction.{{/GM}}

Ahh. I see you have found my box of personal effects. Please, feel free to examine whatever you like within it. Just take care to put them back when you are done.

I do not own much, but the things I keep are very precious to me. They are all that remains of my former life.
{{GM}}Examine the wooden mask.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Examine the lacquered box.{{/GM}}
The wooden mask is extremely light. It's been painted a pale white, and the surface is almost as smooth as porcelain - although it lacks the sheen of lacquer. The face's traits are delicate, almost feminine, and feature lifted eyebrows, bright red lips and delicately carved teeth.

The teeth have been stained a deep black, barely visible past the slightly parted lips.
The expression, while kindly, is ambiguous and uncanny. Viewed from above, the expression is one of calm contentment.

Shifting the mask to view it at an upward angle causes the expression to seem melancholy - almost pained.
What's this wooden mask, Gaichu?
It is a mask from the historical Noh play, "Ikuta Atsumori." The face is that of a young samurai, Taira no Atsumori.

{{GM}}Gaichu faces your direction, gesturing toward the mask.{{/GM}}

I had a collection of a dozen or so Noh masks, when I was younger. That is the last remaining one, and my personal favorite.
What's the difference between a normal play and Noh?
What's the play about?
Why is it your favorite?
{{GM}}Put the mask back in the box.{{/GM}}
Noh actors wear those masks to cover their faces. The angle they hold themselves at changes the expression on the mask, so the acting is highly rigid and controlled. The entire performance is highly ritualized - there is no measure of improvisation allowed, only refinement of the prescribed form.

{{GM}}Gaichu folds his arms over his chest, dipping his chin in thought.{{/GM}}
The words are sung, like in a Western opera, and accompanied by a set of musicians known as a "hayashi." The hayashi keeps time with several drums, a flute, and a chorus - a chorus in the Greek theatrical sense, I mean.

Unfortunately, Noh is an unpopular art in modern times. I expect this is because all of the plays are conducted in Classical Japanese, which is not comprehensible to the general public.
I have heard that the creators of Noh - a father and son in the fourteenth century - took inspiration from magical rituals at Shinto shrines. It is said that by placing masks upon their face, the actors become possessed by the spirit of the character they play.

There are worse fates, I think, than to embody the spirit of a tragic warrior like Atsumori.
A young man travels with the priest who raised him to Ikuta Shrine, to commune with the spirit of his father, Taira no Atsumori. The young man's father died at the battle of Ichi-no-Tani when the son was only a baby, and he wishes to know who his father was.

The pair stay the night in a small hut. In the night, the hermit in the hut explains that he is the ghost of Atsumori.
Atsumori has been granted a brief reprieve from his time in the afterlife, to meet his son. During the night, they speak of the battle in which Atsumori was killed, the history of the Taira family, and their philosophy.

Atsumori fades into darkness as he finishes the tale of the Tairas' downfall, just as the family itself faded into obscurity.
"So think we, yet oh that we might change this fragile dream of joy into the lasting love of waking life," says Atsumori, before fading. It is a tale of sorrow, love, and the burden of war upon the dead and living alike.

The price one pays for war is not always in one's own blood alone, but in the shattering of one's own family.
{{GM}}Gaichu smiles, expression distant.{{/GM}}

A measure of civic pride, I suppose. And I like the story.

Taira no Atsumori died at the battle of Ichi-no-Tani, just outside Kobe. The play takes place primarily at Ikuta Shrine, which is located in downtown Kobe.
In old cities in Japan - especially in Keihanshin - I have always felt there is a sense of history wherever one looks. The skyline may have skyscrapers and delivery drones, but the foundations are laid on the bones of the dead.

{{GM}}Gaichu shrugs, folding his arms across his chest.{{/GM}}

I think it is important to remember their sacrifices and joys, sorrows and glories.
{{GM}}Gaichu laughs suddenly, shaking his head.{{/GM}}

This is why sometimes I worry that I am a sentimentalist at heart.
The box is a deep, glossy black cube. The edges and corners are rounded rather than sharp, and the gold flake inlay across the surface glitters even in the dim lighting of the room.

Sliding the top off, the interior contents are revealed: a calligraphy set, complete with inkstone and block, brushes, and paper.
{{GM}}Gaichu wrinkles his nose, his expression one of distaste.{{/GM}}

Ugh. That thing.

It's a beautiful set, but it is a shame that I am unable to make use of it.
Surely you used to be able to.
Because you're blind?
{{GM}}Gaichu snorts derisively, stifling laughter.{{/GM}}

No. My handwriting has always been absolutely terrible.

Whatever fanciful stories you may have heard of being able to tell a swordsman's ability by his handwriting, I assure you that they are wrong.
The set was a gift from a professor of Japanese literature. He appreciated my interest in the classics - "The Tale of the Heike," "The Tale of Genji," the "Collection of Ten Thousand Leaves," et cetera.

I think he wished to encourage me to cultivate non-martial interests.
{{GM}}Gaichu smiles crookedly, and shrugs.{{/GM}}

I appreciated the gesture, but my attempts at fine calligraphy mostly resembled excited chickens prancing over paper, their feet soaked in ink.
Gaichu has made no attempt to organize his box of personal effects, but it's obvious that he's been through it. The contents are still jumbled, but seem to have been unpacked and replaced.

Laying atop the box this time is a small soapstone statuette, and a folding paper fan.
{{GM}}Examine the statuette.{{/GM}}
The statuette is of a round-faced bodhisattva, its head canted slightly to one side. Its hands are pressed together in prayer, and a tiny red bib is tied around its neck.

The figure's expression is serene. It bears a slightly crooked smile, as if it knew a secret or had heard a joke.
What's this tiny statue with the bib?
Hmm?

{{GM}}Gaichu pauses, turning an ear more fully toward you.{{/GM}}

Ah. It is a statue of Jizo, the protector of children. He is also the guardian of travellers - statues of him are placed along almost every road in Japan. His name outside of Japan is "Ksitigarbha."
Seems rather cute, for you.
You don't seem like a person who cares about having kids.
It is. But it is not so much about what he does, as much as how much I enjoyed his temple in Kyoto.

It was one of the few refuges I had, during my time living in the city.
Jizo-in is a tiny place. It is fairly close to the much larger and better-known sister temple of Saiho-ji, on the western edge of Kyoto. Unlike Saiho-ji, however, Jizo-in is almost unknown.

{{GM}}Gaichu smiles fondly, looking sightlessly into the distance.{{/GM}}

To get there, you have to walk through twisting residential streets, past a deep green grove of bamboo.
If you do not know what you are looking for, you will never find it. Most people assume the road it is on is simply a dead end.

I recall walking there in a light rain. I could smell the ginkgo and maple leaves in the slight breeze. I would go there and simply sit, and let myself be, whenever I felt the stress of school was too much for me.
Inside, there are several small shrines. But the main attraction is the moss garden. You enter a very old meditation room from a small gate. You take off your shoes. You sit at the edge of the garden, and feel the world outside slip from your mind like water through a sieve.

Just you, the breeze, the trees, and the moss. That garden was a microcosm of my world, stripped bare of any confusion and bustle.
That sounds nice.
What a boring place.
Was it lonely?
{{GM}}Smiling faintly, Gaichu dips his head.{{/GM}}

I rather thought so. I never saw more than two other people in the temple, no matter what the time of year.

It seemed, at the time, to be my own private sanctuary.
Sometimes, boring is exactly what I needed in my life. There were never more than two or three other people in the whole of the temple. It was my own private sanctuary, free of judgments or duties.
Lonely? Hmm.

{{GM}}Cradling his chin in one hand, Gaichu seems to ponder this.{{/GM}}

I am not sure how to answer. It was, but in a positive sense.
I have no interest in having children. I did, at one time, but no longer.

I have kept the statue not because of my love of Jizo's role, but of his temple in Kyoto. It was one of my few refuges from the world, when I lived in the city.
The folding paper fan is cheaply constructed, with thin paper stretched over plastic spines. It's obviously a souvenir sold to tourists for a few nuyen.

Unfolding the fan reveals a pleasant landscape: a Japanese city in the nineteenth century or earlier. Curved roofs at sunset, beside a deep blue river.

Two ships sail down the river, which is spanned by a long wooden bridge.
{{GM}}Gaichu grunts, not turning toward you.{{/GM}}

The fan is from Senso-ji temple, in Asakusa. One of the districts of Neo-Tokyo. The image is one of the less famous works by Ando Hiroshige, a woodblock printer from before the Meiji Restoration.
I purchased the fan while on leave from my military training. It reminds me of how open life felt, when I was younger - how the future seemed to stretch out, full of possibility.

And, also, because I like the painting.
Glancing through the box of mementos, you spot a few hitherto unseen items lying near the surface of Gaichu's mess of knickknacks: a pair of chopsticks with stained tips, and a torn-out page from a book, covered in Japanese writing.
{{GM}}Examine the chopsticks.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Examine the page.{{/GM}}
The chopsticks are a simple affair - black lacquer, obviously cheap and mass-produced. Whatever reason Gaichu has for keeping them, it isn't their age or quality.

Taking a closer look at the chopsticks, it becomes apparent that they have seen some rough use. The lacquer near the tips is chipped and flaking away, revealing the wood beneath. The wood itself is stained a dark brown, and is encrusted with something.
Why did you keep these chopsticks?
{{GM}}Gaichu bursts into unexpected laughter, almost dropping his sword as he doubles over. He manages to gasp out a sentence after a long moment.{{/GM}}

Oh my goodness. I had forgotten those were in the box.

{{GM}}He takes a few deep breaths, composing himself.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Raising his sword, Gaichu returns to his practice.{{/GM}}

Tell me, have you ever heard of Tetsuya Nakamura?
Is he somebody important?
It doesn't ring a bell.
He was a member of Shiawase's upper management for many years, running most of Shiawase Envirotech's agricultural development.

A very bright star, in the corporate world. He died in 2052, and those chopsticks are what I killed him with.
Chopsticks? Really?
Wouldn't it have been easier to use a sword?
They were the closest thing to a weapon I had at hand. Nakamura took his security very seriously, and employed several highly augmented bodyguards. It was only through several months of extensive planning that we were able to get near him at all.

When faced with a challenge, one is often forced to improvise with what is at hand.
We had studied Nakamura's schedule painstakingly, particularly his twice-monthly trips to Neo-Tokyo. In Osaka, Shiawase's presence would have made any attempt on his life functionally impossible. In Neo-Tokyo, though...

In studying his movement patterns, we discovered that he would eat at a particular French restaurant in Ginza every second trip, at precisely eight thirty in the evening.
It seemed that he had a secret lover who lived in Roppongi, and he was visiting him during his business trips. Owing to this secrecy, he would give his bodyguards the night off when the two met.

The restaurant in question was famous for its molecular gastronomy and the precision of their chefs - not to mention the view from the thirty-eighth floor. We managed to secure reservations near Nakamura's usual table, but only for two of us.
It was decided that Sasaki and I would be the pair to kill Nakamura; Ishida and Aomori would wait one floor below, and Takagawa would keep watch from a nearby skyscraper.

We carried small but high-powered pistols, as well as tactical knives. We expected it to be easy.
As I rose to draw my pistol on Nakamura, his lover somehow knew what was happening. He shrieked bloody murder... and burst into flames. We discovered after the fact that he was a very powerful mage, but we hadn't discovered this in our surveillance.

Somehow, he managed to throw a barrier over the two of them that deflected my bullets. When I pulled my knife, it had turned red-hot. I was forced to drop it.
Sasaki engaged him in a contest of wills - I am not sure how that kind of magic works - but could not shatter his barrier. She was too busy dodging the lightning bolts he was throwing, and since the flames had set off the fire system...

Well, it was not easy.
Nakamura broke and ran, and I pursued him. He had a small holdout pistol - a PB-120 or something similar - and I grabbed the nearest weapon I could find.

{{GM}}Gaichu gestures toward you with the tip of his sword.{{/GM}}

Those chopsticks.
I slid them up into his brain stem, through the trachea. He died without making a sound - not that I would have been able to hear it over the sound of Aomori's machine gun, rattling away one floor below.

Apparently the bodyguards were not truly given the night off, and were still nearby.
How did you get out?
What happened to Nakamura's lover?
With the windows blown out, we fast-roped down the side of the building and disappeared into the night. It was not the cleanest job, but it was very memorable.

I still remember the smell: ozone and bechamel, mixing with the cordite and Veuve Clicquot.
{{GM}}Gaichu chuckles, tilting his head up toward the ceiling as he recalls the memory.{{/GM}}

Takagawa managed to punch through his barrier with a well-placed .408 caliber slug from across the street. It didn't kill him, but it broke his concentration. Sasaki finished the rest.
It was. But no plan survives first contact with the enemy.
Yes, but getting near the man with a weapon would have been impossible. His bodyguards were very competent and very alert, and it is only due to several months of planning that we were able to arrange that moment of proximity to him.

Improvisation is often necessary when in difficult situations.
The page is old, and the highly stylized calligraphy is handwritten. The style is so artistic, in fact, as to be functionally illegible to you.
This page seems to be missing a book, Gaichu.
{{GM}}Gaichu nods in agreement, and steps forward to deliver a crosscut to the air in front of him.{{/GM}}

Yes. But that page is all that I wanted from the book.
"I look out
from the cloudless mountain
at moonlight on the sea,
its islands so many rents
in a sheet of ice."
{{GM}}Gaichu pivots on the ball of his heel, thrusting the tip of his sword into the darkness of the room.{{/GM}}

The poet Saigyo. He was a master of conveying a sense of solitude and emptiness.

And I have always found that poem to echo what I feel inside myself.
Are you the mountains, or the islands?
So often, it feels as if I am contained within a ball of ice, floating through the void of this life - cold and solitary.

The moments I can share with those who have truly mattered to me chip through that frost, and let me scream out that I am not alone.
The box is currently mostly empty, the contents scattered around the floor. Those things that remain inside are primarily items you have already viewed.

Near the bottom, however, two things stand out: a small glass vial, and a threadbare plush octopus.
{{GM}}Examine the vial.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Examine the plush octopus.{{/GM}}
The small vial is filled with clear fluid, and a small brownish-gray worm is floating inertly within. There is no label, nor any markings on the cork to indicate what the worm is, or why Gaichu has kept it.
Gaichu, do you collect worms?
Is this vial some kind of science experiment?
{{GM}}Gaichu grunts, not bothering to look at you.{{/GM}}

Haemadipsa zeylanica. The Japanese mountain leech.
Okay, but why keep it?
{{GM}}At this, Gaichu turns to face you, and you see that he is grinning wickedly.{{/GM}}

Have you heard the story of Izanami and Izanagi?
No. Who are they?
{{CC}}Etiquette: Academic{{/CC}} You mean the Japanese creation myth?
They are the deities who created the Japanese archipelago. The legend states that Izanami and Izanagi created Japan by producing eight children, with each island being one of those children.

But those islands are not the first children they produced.
The pair's first child was known as "Hiruko," the leech child. It was deformed and disgusting, without limbs or bones. As a creature that sucked blood, it was a parasite, and served no useful purpose.

So they cast it into the sea.
Some say that Hiruko became Ebisu, the god of luck and fishermen. But I believe that to be a later confusion.

In the oldest tales, Hiruko lurks in the darkness at the edge of civilization, avoided by the kami, but unmolested by them. As the first child of Izanami and Izanagi, he had great power, and could destroy any kami that attempted to harm him.
Perhaps it is a reflection on my own state, but I like this story. The creature of disease and disgust that cannot be killed, because it is too powerful, yet is forever condemned to stay in the distance beyond the firelight.

A little like myself, no?
Yes, the same. Most Japanese know that Izanami and Izanagi birthed eight children, each one becoming an island in the archipelago.

Far fewer know that these were not the pair's first child, however.
The ragged plush animal has seen better days. The purple fuzz has been mostly worn away, exposing the fabric underneath, and there are slightly darker spots on both sides of the toy's body - presumably where eyes once were.
{{GM}}Before you can even ask a question, Gaichu raises a hand to silence you.{{/GM}}

His name is Tako-kun. My mother gave him to me.

No, I am not ashamed of this.
Never be ashamed of keeping something your mother gave you.
Shadowrunners don't generally have plush toys.
Hey, this is really cute.
{{GM}}Gaichu's eyes narrow, and he sniffs at you as he tries to determine whether you are making fun of him.{{/GM}}

There is almost nothing in my life I have to remind me of my family. This is the thing I kept to serve that purpose.
Okay, but why an octopus?
Because I like octopi...?

{{GM}}Gaichu still seems uncertain whether he should be angry or not.{{/GM}}

An octopus is a clever creature. It knows how to conceal itself, how to open jars, escape from tanks. There are worse things than to be reborn as an octopus.
I've always admired them for their talents. No one knows what an octopus is thinking when they look into its eye. They only know that they are being studied, just as much as they are studying it.

{{GM}}With that, Gaichu reaches out to take the plush toy, placing it gingerly back in the box.{{/GM}}
As usual, Gaichu's mementos have been piled back into the box to the point of overflowing.

One unusual piece lays atop the various odds and ends, however: a golden hairpin with an orchid motif.
{{GM}}Examine the hairpin.{{/GM}}
The hairpin is delicately crafted, with a long golden stem terminating in a chain of orchids that dangle upon a thin chain. Examining this chain more closely, you observe a thin fiber-optic wire twining between the links back upward into the stem.

There is a small switch near the base of the stem, undoubtedly connected to the fiber-optic wire.
{{GM}}Flip the switch.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Put the hairpin back.{{/GM}}
At the touch of your finger, the hairpin springs to life. Colored light, blue and purple, plays along the edges of the orchids. Subtle holograms project from the blooms, filling the air with the twinkle of stardust - a thousand glittering motes.

The hairpin's stem produces a quiet, delicate melody that is full of melancholy.
After a moment, the song ends, and the room is once again plunged into a deep silence.

Glancing at Gaichu, you see he has turned his back to you, and you realize that he has stopped breathing.
Should I not have done that?
I am fine. Do not concern yourself.

{{GM}}The rough edge in his voice, however, says otherwise.{{/GM}}
That...

{{GM}}Gaichu takes a deep breath, and begins again.{{/GM}}

That hairpin belonged to a friend. It was a gift I gave her, while we walked along the banks of the Katsura River, near Arashiyama.
She must have been special.
That sounds like a nice memory.
She was. To me, anyway.

But I have not thought of those days in many years. It was a more innocent time, for me.
{{GM}}Gaichu finally turns toward you, his expression unreadable.{{/GM}}

Her name was Sayuri. We met in a spring seminar - an elective on Heian Era court poetry. I was trying to eliminate one of the softer electives I needed to complete my degree.
{{GM}}Cocking his head, Gaichu puts a hand to his chin.{{/GM}}

Have you ever met someone, and known within seconds that you would be close?
Yes. Not often, but sometimes.
It was a first for me, as well.

{{GM}}Gaichu draws a claw down the length of his jaw.{{/GM}}

Yet there I was, and I knew it. It was not a romantic understanding, but rather that I knew - somehow - that our lives were intertwined.
Naturally, we saw more and more of each other over the following weeks. And I suppose friendship turned to something more, as these things do.

{{GM}}Gaichu wraps his arms around his torso, looking away.{{/GM}}

I did not have many friends. I never have. But she was that, and more.
She was studying chemistry, which is about as far from global security studies as one can imagine. We had little in common, but it was still more than I really felt with anyone else.

{{GM}}Looking back at you, Gaichu shrugs.{{/GM}}

It was an unconscious relationship, because it was easy. I never needed to think about it.
Did you love her?
I do not know.

{{GM}}Gaichu shakes his head, pressing a palm to his brow.{{/GM}}

I am unsure how I cannot know, but that is the state of it. I believe I did, but how can I be sure?
She did not approve of my plans to join Renraku. She found the Youth Brigade to be offensive, and asked me not to devote my life to military pursuits. But I believed I had to - I had set my course, and could not change my mind.

I refused.
She left me. Sayuri said she could not be with someone that would devote himself to murder.

She returned the hairpin, and told me to keep it to remind me of her when I was deep in the bowels of Renraku's military machine.
It sounds like you regret your decision.
You did what you had to.
One way or another, we all end up making sacrifices.
Perhaps I do. But I would have regretted abandoning my goals as well.

That is the nature of life - as one avenue opens, another closes. We all have to sacrifice, to seek our fortunes.
{{GM}}Plucking the hairpin from your fingers, Gaichu turns it delicately around in his fingers as he feels the shape.{{/GM}}

I keep this to remind myself of the things we have to give up, in pursuit of what we think is best. But few of us ever really know what it is that we want - not truly.

We simply grasp at mirages that we think will fulfill us.
Humans tie themselves to other people with the most tenuous of strings, thinking love will fill the emptiness inside us. When that fails, we tell ourselves it was not meant to be - that fate, or destiny, would have wrenched us apart.

But that is a convenient lie. It is up to us, and only up to us, to make our futures.
So I feel that it would behoove me to never forget the things I have given up in pursuit of "the better option." I do not dwell in the past, nor am I haunted by it, but it would be doing Sayuri a disservice to forget what she wanted for me.

{{GM}}Gaichu places the hairpin back in the box, turning away.{{/GM}}
That is what I told myself at the time. It is what I still tell myself.

But sometimes I think back and wonder whether that is true, or simply a convenient fiction, to rationalize what I gave up in pursuit of what I thought I wanted.
{{GM}}Gaichu sighs, nodding.{{/GM}}

Of course. This is a lesson I have been taught time and again, and no doubt will continue to learn until I die.
Then you know the feeling I am speaking of.

{{GM}}Gaichu draws a claw down the length of his jaw.{{/GM}}

Yet there I was, and I knew it. It was not a romantic understanding, but rather that I knew - somehow - that our lives were intertwined.
It is, very much.

It was just so long ago that I do not think of it much these days. It was a more innocent time, for me.
Gaichu's box of mementos remains as you left it: disorganized, and full of strange curios.
Urban Mage Cloak
An outfit designed to assist in both magic and evading the authorities. Grants +1 Willpower and +1 Move Speed.
When the most important thing is drones. Grants +1 Drone Control and +1 Drone Combat.
CyberwareDeactivator
CyberwareDeactivator targets.
Nail Grenade
Packed with nails and shrapnel, this grenade causes an additional -4 HP for 3 RNDS. Strips 1 Armor from affected targets.
Aztechnology clothing for street mages. Grants +1 Willpower and +1 Spellcasting.
Mark Target
Marks enemy, causing them to become easier to hit.
Wolfhound Mk. 2
The best support drone in the biz. It will drop a grenade or medkit and even fight.
Tong's bathroom is immaculate, and the drains are tiny. Whatever killed him didn't exit though here.
OUTSIDER
Whampoa Garden: a carnival of chrome and neon, rife with every manner of technology and artifice one can imagine. The entire area has the feel of a night market, save that chips are sold in lieu of steamed buns, and vendors hawk the latest drones rather than folk art. Something stalks these streets, hiding just out of sight. It stalks the Whampoan Elders - the leaders of the band of tech-savvy squatters that have claimed this neighborhood as their own.

The streets smell of ozone and fear, and those Whampoans you pass in the MTR station have a haunted, furtive look in their eye. While the killer has struck only at the Elders thusfar, it may only be a matter of time before ordinary residents are menaced as well.
Red Spear Ganger
Red Spear Thug
Red Spear Mage
Red Spear Adept
Vory Leader
Vasilisa
Vory Conjurer
Vory Enforcer
Galina
Porter Lam
Breaker Hui
Zippy
Moe Jnebi
Keita
Demergo
Rainbow
Minh Vuong
Wing-Kei Kwok
Elder Ip
Elder Tang
Elder Ng
Investigate the Parking Garage
Go to the parking garage and investigate the scene of the fight last month.
Meet With the Whampoan Elders
Meet with the Whampoan Elders and find out what they know about the murders.
Investigate Tong's Sensory Carnival
Go to Tong's Sensory Carnival and investigate the most recent murder.
Get the Key to Magpie's Shop
Persuade the Elders to give you their key to Magpie's shop, The Jackpoint.
Analyze the Armor Piece
Maybe someone in Whampoa Garden can tell you more about the chunk of armor you found.
Investigate The Jackpoint
Maybe The Jackpoint, Elder Magpie's shop, has some clues as to what's been happening in Whampoa Garden.
Get a key for the Storm Drains
One of the Red Spear gangers went missing in the Whampoa Garden storm drains. If you can get inside, maybe you'll find some valuable information.
Search the Whampoa Garden Storm Drains
There's got to be something down in the storm drains. Search them and see what's lurking down there.
Search for the Killer in Whampoa Garden
Someone in Whampoa Garden has to know more about the murders.
Find a Key to Magpie's Stockroom
Search Magpie's Stockroom
Confront the Whampoan Elders
Kill the Ghoul
Kill the Whampoan Elders
Speak to the Whampoan Elders
Find Out what the Red Spear Gangers Know
FirePower Round
Loads a single Fire Power round. Does an additional 2 DMG and pierces up to 2 Armor.
Poison Darts 1
{{GM}}Ku Feng's calm and haughty demeanor dissolves as her eyes grow wild.{{/GM}}

Wait, wait... I surrender! Don't kill me!
What's wrong? Not feeling so powerful now?
Oh, shut your mouth and stand up.
Spare a vampire? I don't think so.
{{GM}}She clasps her hands, pleading.{{/GM}}

The whole "mistress of the night" thing is just an act. I'm just an accountant that got infected!
I... I don't really know how to fight. I was faking it.

I just wanted to scare you into backing down.
An... accountant?
Look how that turned out.
You're a vampire, I know better than to listen to you. Die, monster!
{{GM}}She nods.{{/GM}}

I was on a business trip to Shanwei last year. I went to a rave, got drunk, and passed out. When I woke up, I was in an alley and someone had done... this... to me.
And so, you... what? Decided to embrace the whole "vampire" thing?
I don't need to hear your life story. Just tell me what you hoped to get out of all of this.
What choice did I have? I couldn't go back to work, and it was a dead-end job anyway. No upward mobility, no room for growth.
I did what anyone would have done. I tried to make the best of it, to capitalize on my new abilities.

I'm a vampire now - I can't control that. But I *can* control how I choose to monetize it.
So what was your endgame? How did you see this working out?
Beats me. It's not like have a rulebook for this, or anything. I'm just making it up as I go along.

Who knows? Maybe I could eventually become the Vampire Queen of Repulse Bay.
I hate to break it to you, but that isn't likely to happen.
Well, I suppose that I can't fault your ambition.
Wait, so this whole thing has just been you... what, improvising?
Don't you think that I *know* that? I've been trained to use a printing calculator, not bite people's necks. I'm just... doing my best.
{{GM}}She looks away in shame. Her voice goes flat.{{/GM}}

Look, if I'm ever found out, I'll be killed for bounty money. It was either this or get gunned down by a vampire hunter.
How did you manage to survive?
Shouldn't your family or co-workers be looking for you?
I've been hiding out in Kowloon. I was hoping to just... disappear.

As far as my friends and family know, I'm missing. Maybe dead.
{{GM}}Her chest hitches. She looks miserable.{{/GM}}

I think that's for the best. I mean, how could I explain what I'd become? Can you imagine how ashamed my family would be to find that I'd become this... monster?

No, it's better that they think I'm dead.
You are pathetic. Weak.

{{GM}}His lip curls into a sneer.{{/GM}}

You are given the power of the gods, and you snivel about *feelings*? What is *wrong* with you?
I never wanted to be this way! I'm trying my best...
Your best is barely competent. You squander your potential, then bawl about your cast-off life when you are defeated.

You don't deserve the gift that you have been given.
No. You're right. I'm not cut out for this.

{{GM}}She turns to you, a look of misery smeared across her face.{{/GM}}

Can we call a truce, maybe? I scratch your back, you... let me live? Please?
I think we can work something out. Conditionally.
We already had a deal. If you lost the duel, I got to kill you. It's time to pay up.
{{GM}}She nods eagerly.{{/GM}}

Yes, yes, anything! Just tell me what you need!
First off, I want some answers.
I've decided what's going to happen.
I'll tell you whatever you want to know! You ask the questions, and I'll answer. No lying, I promise!
How are you and Neville Ma connected?
What's it like to be a vampire?
Is there a cure?
I happened to be in the same hospital that he was, trolling for a meal.

I don't like to drink blood from unwilling people, so I go to hospitals at night looking for people who won't mind if I take a sip. People in comas, patients with terminal illnesses, that kind of thing. It makes me feel better about what I have to do.
...So I wandered into this room, and I recognized Neville Ma. I'd seen him on the news... seen photos of the accident.

He was in really bad shape. A lot of broken bones and internal injuries. But somehow, he was still conscious.
What then?
So you offered to help.
Well... I knew that if I gave uninfected people my blood, they'd be able to heal like I did, just not as fast. I'd figured that out early, and by mistake. But it can come in handy from time to time.

So when I saw that Neville was conscious, I decided to make my grand appearance. I materialized in the room and told him that I'd make him a trade. I'd fix him up, good as new, but he'd owe me some favors for it. I wasn't specific as to how many favors, or what kind.
He agreed. Actually, he leapt at the chance to become my pawn... I guess that when you're all broken up like that, you'll do just about anything to get better.

The deal was done. And... we got along. I think he's charming, he thinks I'm funny, and he doesn't care that I'm a vampire. He told me that he gives me nice things because he likes me, and not because he owes me his life. It's all very sweet.
About the same as being a person. The Human-Metahuman Vampiric Virus is like any other disease, except instead of coughing, I can't go out during the day.

It's not all bad, though. I can turn into mist, and I'm a lot stronger than I used to be. I still have to wash my hair and pay for parking.
You know what I miss the most? Steamed buns.

I can't eat or drink anything except blood, and I loved street food before I got infected. Sometimes I'll walk by food carts just to smell the things they're frying up. But if I buy something, ten minutes later it's all coming back up in a mess.
I wish... but no. The only cure is being tossed in a bonfire or having your head cut off. And almost every nation in the world will pay a bounty for a dead vampire.

It's not like I had much of a choice, you know? Be a vampire or get killed for some quick cash. It's a pretty raw deal for me either way.
Okay.

{{GM}}She exhales heavily.{{/GM}}

What's it going to be?
You're going to get Neville to fire Penelope Wong.
Go into hiding. Don't contact Neville again, or I'll come back for you.
You're going to live up to your potential, and I'm going to help you.
I don't care about your problems. I'm going to kill you.
Wait... All of this is about that stupid soap opera?!
That's about the size of it, yeah.
I take the jobs that pay, lady.
I can't believe it. Of all of the idiotic reasons to blow my cover...

Fine. I'll make Neville get rid of her.
You're sure you can convince him?
How hard will that be?
Neville can't say no to me. I mean that quite literally. He'll do it, no question.

And what about Neville and I?
I don't care who Neville Ma associates with.
Leave him alone. Go back into hiding.
Thank you. He knows what I am, and doesn't care because I saved his life.

I won't trouble you again.
I can accept that.

And... thank you. It's more kindness than I expected.
{{GM}}She blinks.{{/GM}}

You are?
We are?
So you don't know how to be a monster. Well, as it happens, I have a bona-fide monster right here. Gaichu will teach you what to do.
Me and Duncan, we grew up on the streets. We can't teach you much about how to be a monster, but at least we can tell you what *not* to do.
I know how to adjust to a violent new life. I've been living that reality since I arrived in Hong Kong. I can help you.
...And why would I do that, $(l.name)? I fail to understand.
Because in Hong Kong, connections are power. And I want the Vampire Queen of Repulse Bay to owe me a favor.
Because I've decided that I like you. And I can think of worse friends to have at my side than a vampire.
Oh, no reason. I guess that the idea of a vampire accountant just tickles me.
{{GM}}A brilliant smile breaks out across her face.{{/GM}}

Well, in that case... I accept. Gratefully.
What about Dr. Shenyang? What are we supposed to tell him?
He wants Penelope Wong. What do you say, Ku Feng? Think you can get Neville to let her go?
In a heartbeat. Neville can't say no to me. He'll do it, no question.
In that case, it's settled. We'll be in touch.
Good. Catch you later, Vampire Queen.
Excellent. Let this be the first of many favors that you pay me.
{{GM}}She bows, smiling.{{/GM}}

It is settled, then. May this be the beginning of a long and fruitful relationship.
And what will we tell Dr. Shenyang? This arrangement does nothing to satisfy the terms of our contract.
Yeah, we could... but why would we?
Okay... but... why would you want to? I don't understand.
So, uh... can we call a truce, or something? I scratch your back, you... let me live?

{{GM}}She clasps her hands, pleading.{{/GM}}

What do you say?
Not if I can help it. You think that I want them to see me like this?

As far as my friends and family are concerned, I'm missing. Have been for months. They probably think that I'm dead.
Thanks. I mean that. But... it's never going to happen.

I'm not any good at this. I know that now.
{{GM}}She looks away in shame. Her voice goes flat.{{/GM}}

I don't even know what I'm going to do with myself now. If I'm ever found out, I'll get killed for the bounty money. This was my only real shot, and I blew it.
Pretty much, yeah. I don't know what the hell I'm doing, I'm just... doing my best.
I don't know. Money? Power? Both? Like I said, I don't know the first thing about how to be a real vampire.

I figured that if I was smart about it, I could maybe build my own little thing here... like a business. Become the Vampire Queen of Repulse Bay.
Yeah, I know... I blew it.

I knew that this duel was a bad idea the moment I agreed to it, but I couldn't back down in front of my pawns. It would have been humiliating.
{{GM}}She looks away.{{/GM}}

Like I said, I'm just an accountant. I never went to Vampire School. What I *did* do was get drunk on a business trip, black out, and wake up in an alley like... this.
{{GM}}Ku Feng pulls herself to her feet.{{/GM}}

Look... I didn't mean for things to go this far. I don't even know how to fight! I was just trying to scare you into backing down.
The truth is, the whole "mistress of the night" thing is just an act. Before I got infected with HMHVV, I was an accountant.
{{GM}}Ku Feng sniffles loudly, then spits.{{/GM}}

To the death, huh? That's the way it's gonna be? Then... so be it!
Hail of Bullets
Target up to 4 enemies and then open fire on all of them. -5% Accuracy. Must have at least three targets. Cooldown: 5
The Rat King shrieks as Gobbet lifts the Shiny Object in her hands. In its voice you can hear the echoes of a thousand inhuman beings.
This is interesting.

{{GM}}She hugs the Shiny Object to her chest, her bare hands caressing the stone.{{/GM}}

I can feel Malvina's control over the rats. It's like a thousand strings connecting her to them. And it feels like...
One of the Rat King's servitors shudders in place.

Slowly, seemingly against its own will, it lifts its head to stare at you.
...I can tug at those strings.
{{GM}}Malvina's cultured voice is overtaken by the inhuman roars of the other things that share her body.{{/GM}}

WE WILL REND YOU ALL TO PIECES! TEAR YOUR FLESH TO SHREDS!
{{GM}}Gobbet dances back, cradling the Shiny Object like a newborn baby. She begins to laugh.{{/GM}}

Buy me a little time, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname).

I'm still getting used to this thing, but if you give me a minute or two, those demon rats will be mine.
Memory Engram
Raymond as a young boy.
Wuxing Research Terminal Main Menu

Welcome, user. Please select from the following options:
Several folders appear in a second window below the first. Only a couple look useful.
{{GM}}Search Wuxing's floor plan documents.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Read the weapon manuals and specifications.{{/GM}}
Amidst the documents, a few nuggets of information stand out. A section dedicated to the Wuxing building's qi details the geomancy plans and renovations they've made to increase qi flow.
It appears that Wuxing's already made hundreds of minuscule, and a handful of not-so-minuscule, adjustments to its floor plans and building infrastructure. A recently updated file marks its project to add new water lines for the temple's fountain as complete.

The document ends with a large list of future modifications that the company has queued for completion, all ways to improve its positive energy output.
You click on the folder, and a large repository of files containing Wuxing research projects pops up. One section is labeled with a symbol similar to the markings on the weapon just a few feet from you.

A quick scan of the data reveals information on the weapon and lab setup.
{{CC}}Pistol: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Medium){{/CC}} {{GM}}Use your knowledge of weapon fire control and assembly to disengage the lock.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Intelligence: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Hard){{/CC}} {{GM}}Review the specifications to see how the weapon's locking mechanism works.{{/GM}}
One look at the weapon specs, and you know how to remove the upper receiver and firing control from the cradle without damaging the weapon. The lock removal should be simple enough.
Through the specifications file, you learn that the locks on the cradle are magnetized. A disruption to its current and some applied force should remove the restraints entirely.
Disconnecting Raymond from the ASIST device proves to be straightforward, as does getting him out of the capsule and onto the cleanroom floor.

It feels as if he barely weighs anything at all.
{{GM}}Although his breathing is a bit erratic, Raymond seems steady enough on his feet.{{/GM}}

Lead on, $(l.firstname). I'll be right behind you.
Gobbet.

{{GM}}The creature's voice is unnerving. A thousand rumbling voices, all interwoven and laid over the top of Malvina's crisp, cultured speech.{{/GM}}

You have returned to us, little mouse. You, the instigator of our own ascendancy.
{{GM}}The Rat King shifts its gaze to a nearby altar. A gleaming red stone has been ensconced within.{{/GM}}

The Keystone. The source of our unity. The font of power that makes us strong.

Your gift to us, little mouse. You gave us what we needed to bring this raft to order.
Gobbet's nose crinkles in revulsion. On her shoulders, Madness and Folly chitter and shriek.
Save me the speech, Malvina - or whatever you are. I'm not here to talk.

The new body isn't doing you any favors, by the way. You look like a furry tree stump.
{{GM}}The creature leans forward, into the light. A fine-featured face with high cheekbones and piercing eyes stares down at you; the carpet of living vermin that bury the rest of Malvina's head and neck struggle and shriek.{{/GM}}

Our new body is BEAUTY ITSELF. Unity of BIOLOGY, and UNITY OF PURPOSE.
What you are is a monster, and a *foul* one at that.
Malvina, what happened to you?
What you are is an idiot. You saw what Tsui let loose with the Shiny Object, and you decided to keep using it anyway.

If that isn't stupid, I don't know what is.
{{GM}}The thing's voice grows to a roar, and you hear other sounds folded into it - the cacophonous, gibbering babble of things gone mad.{{/GM}}

WE ARE ORDER OUT OF CHAOS... THE DEATH OF ENTROPY... A GLORIOUS UNITY--
Oh, fuck this.

{{GM}}She pulls back the slide on her weapon.{{/GM}}

We're here to kill this thing, not let it talk us to death.
{{GM}}Attack the Rat King.{{/GM}} Damn right.
WE are NOT Malvina. WE ARE ONE. BOUND TOGETHER FOR ALL TIME.

{{GM}}The thing's voice grows to a roar, and you hear other sounds folded into it - the cacophonous, gibbering babble of things gone mad.{{/GM}}

WE ARE ORDER OUT OF CHAOS... THE DEATH OF ENTROPY... A GLORIOUS UNITY--
Greater Form Spirit
A group of Yellow Lotus 49ers is holding this entrance. Their leader, a dumpy female elf with chipped teeth and a bouffant hairdo, stumbles toward you.
You! You DROP YOUR GUNS and GET DOWN ON THE FLOOR!

{{GM}}She shakes her head from side to side as if trying to clear it. A pair of bloodshot eyes roll in their sockets without reason or purpose.{{/GM}}

...DROP EVERYTHING, or we'll GUT YOU LIKE PIGS!
Stand down! We're with Kindly Cheng!
You're from the Lotus Den, aren't you? Strangler Bao is on my side!
I'm in too much of a rush to argue with you. Drop your weapons or die.
Cheng? CHENG?!

{{GM}}She gestures wildly with her rifle. A thin stream of blood traces its way from her left nostril down to her mouth.{{/GM}}

Her time is DONE! We have a NEW QUEEN NOW!
Screaming unintelligibly, she launches herself at you. Her cohort follows behind, swinging their weapons wildly and howling for blood.
Bao? BAO?!

{{GM}}She gestures wildly with her rifle. A thin stream of blood traces its way from her left nostril down to her mouth.{{/GM}}

His time is DONE! Our new QUEEN has SHOWN US THE WAY!
Mermory Engram
Raymond as a middle aged man.
Neurostun Gas Grenade
A gas-based grenade which stops targets in their tracks. Does 8 HP DMG and 3 AP DMG, with an ongoing 2 AP DMG for 2 RNDs.
Neurostun Gas
Spiked Fist
Unarmed: Causes minor bleeding to target on impact, with DMG of your Strength + 1. May do AP DMG on critical hits.
5 attacks in one action that do half or normal damage. The target loses their cover bonus for the rest of the turn. Uses 10 bullets.
This panel controls simple building maintenance and safety features.

While the panel's admin-level user interface has been locked away behind a biometric fingerprint reader, a skilled decker could easily bypass such a restriction.
{{CC}}Decking: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Easy){{/CC}} {{GM}}Forge admin-level access and browse the panel's file structure.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}View archived work manifest logs.{{/GM}}
You hack into the system with ease, revealing command-level subroutines that are normally hidden from view.
{{GM}}Set off the sprinkler system in the kitchen.{{/GM}}
You enter the subroutine to trigger the kitchen's sprinklers while at the same time suppressing the fire alarms that they're attached to.
The sounds of chaotic movement and yelps of alarm sound out from the direction of the kitchen.

It sounds as though the catering staff is attempting to flee the room.
You return to the panel's main menu.
>>*Huang, Millions*

The damned sprinklers went off again. The entire kitchen was flooded, and Chef Bun quit.

We're going to have to go with third-party caterers for the big event this weekend, because we sure as hell can't steam a few thousand clams without any kitchen staff.
Victory Rapid Transit Light Jumpsuit
For runners on the go. Has breathable fabric, gel-based padding, and densiplast for top mobility. Grants +1 Dodge and +1 Move Speed.
Two attacks on a single target with one action. Increases chance for critical DMG.
Raymond as a young executive.
The elevator doors refuse to open. Some kind of manual lock is engaged. A blinking alert message reads: ELEVATOR IN TRANSIT. DOORS WILL UNLOCK ONCE ELEVATOR PASSES FLOOR 27.

Looks like you won't be able to pry them open for a minute or two. Better hunker down.
Charge Lvl 1
Charges IC up to Level 1
CHARGING... 50%
Stunball II
Crossing the street, you can make out four shadowy figures loitering in the plaza ahead. Troll, ork, dwarf, elf. Two men, two women. They're different from the smugglers on the dock. Alert. Poised. Professional.

You can see they've made a token attempt to conceal their weapons.		 Traversant la rue, vous distinguez quatre silhouettes ténébreuses attendant sur la place devant. Un troll, une ork, une naine, un elfe. Deux hommes, deux femmes. Ils sont différents des trafiquants sur les quais. Attentifs, Sur le qui-vive. Professionnels.

Vous remarquez qu'ils ont fait une tentative symbolique pour dissimuler leurs armes.
The unspoken message is clear.

"We're strapped. Mind your manners."		 Le message implicite est clair.

"Nous sommes chargés. Surveillez vos manières."
Wu stands up tall, takes that amused tone he gets whenever he's standing toe-to-toe with someone bigger. Someone who doesn't know they're about to go down. Wu les prend de haut, avec ce ton amusé qu'il emploi chaque fois qu'il se tient au coude-à-coude avec quelqu'un de bien plus grand. Quelqu'un qui ne sait pas qu'ils sont sur le point de descendre.
Evening, folks. You got permits for those bazookas? Bonsoir, les gens. Vous avez un permis pour ces bazookas?
{{GM}}The thick troll pulls his mouth into a comic frown.{{/GM}}

Permits? Hmm. Gimme a minute.

{{GM}}He makes a show of patting his pockets.{{/GM}}		 {{GM}}Le troll costaud tord sa bouche dans un froncement de sourcils comique.{{/GM}}

Un permis? Hmm. Donnez moi une minute.

{{GM}}Il fait semblant de chercher dans ses poches.{{/GM}}
Nope. Guess not. I must've dropped mine in a dumpster - along with the last idiot who stepped to us. Nan. Je suppose que non. J'ai du abandonner le mien dans une benne à ordures - de même que le dernier idiot qui me l'avait demandé.
{{GM}}Wu coolly surveys the scene, nods in a friendly fashion.{{/GM}}

Is that right? Well then...		 {{GM}}Wu examine froidement la scène, puis hoche la tête de façon amicale.{{/GM}}

C'est pas vrai? Eh bien...
You can almost feel Wu's cop training kick in - it's like watching a drone execute a command routine.

He reaches for his rifle, brings it up quick, but it's too late. By the time it hits shoulder level, an assortment of nasty-looking ordnance is already trained on his head.		 Vous pouvez presque sentir la formation de flic de Wu entrer en action - C'est comme regarder un drone exécuter une routine de commande.

Il attrape son fusil, le dresse rapidement, mais il est trop tard. Le temps de l'épauler, un assortiment de méchantes artillerie s'est dressé vers sa tête.
{{GM}}Carter backs him up. She whips her arms forward, fists blazing with magical fire. Her eyes sweep the scene, darting from one figure to another.{{/GM}}

All right, everyone just be cool!		 {{GM}}Carter le recule. Elle projette ses bras vers l'avant, les poings flamboyants d'un feu magique. Ses yeux balaient le scène, passant d'un visage à un autre. {{/GM}}

Très bien, tout le monde reste cool!
{{GM}}The thick troll's voice is casual. Amused. He shakes his gun in Wu's face.{{/GM}}

Little late for that, isn't it?
{{GM}}La voix du troll costaud est décontractée. Amusée. Il secoue son fusil devant le visage de Wu.{{/GM}}

Un peu trop tard pour ça non?
{{GM}}Raise your weapon, too.{{/GM}} Nah. It's never too late to be cool. {{GM}}Soulevez votre arme, vous aussi.{{/GM}} Nah. Il n'est jamais trop tard pour être cool.
{{GM}}Put your hands in your pockets.{{/GM}} Listen guys, my stomach's doing somersaults. How about we all put our guns away before someone gets hurt? {{GM}}Mettre vos mains dans les poches.{{/GM}} Ecoutez les gars, mon estomac fait des culbutes. Que diriez-vous de tous ranger nos armes avant que quelqu'un ne se blesse?
{{GM}}Hold up your hands, palms out.{{/GM}} How about no one does anything stupid? We just want to talk. {{GM}}Lever les mains, paumes au dehors.{{/GM}} Que diriez-vous de ne rien faire de stupide? Nous voulons juste parler.
{{GM}}Draw your weapon and remain silent.{{/GM}} {{GM}}Dégainer votre arme et garder le silence.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The troll winks at you and gives his attention to Wu.{{/GM}}

Maybe we got off on the wrong foot just now. Something we can do for you, officer?

{{GM}}His mouth breaks into a patronizing grin.{{/GM}}		 {{GM}}Le troll vous fait un clin d'œil et retourne son attention vers Wu.{{/GM}}

Peut-être sommes nous partie du mauvais pied tout à l'heure. Pouvons nous faire quelque chose pour vous, officier?

{{GM}}Sa bouche se tord en un sourire condescendant.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Wu's jaw tightens, but his tone stays cool and controlled.{{/GM}}

I'm looking for an old man. Raymond Black. We were supposed to meet him here.

You know him?		 {{GM}}La mâchoire de Wu se crispe, mais sa voix reste calme et contrôlée.{{/GM}}

IJe recherche un vieil homme. Raymond Black. Nous étions supposés nous retrouver ici.

Tu le connais?
{{GM}}The troll nods his enormous head.{{/GM}}

Mmm-hmm.		 {{GM}}Le troll hoche son énorme tête.{{/GM}}

Mmm-hmm.
{{GM}}Wu's voice gets an edge. You can see a vein in his temple start to pulse.{{/GM}}

Where is he?		 {{GM}}La voix de Wu se fait tranchante. Vous pouvez voir une veine à sa tempe commencer à battre.{{/GM}}

Où est il?
{{GM}}Carter sees it too. Keeps her voice neutral.{{/GM}}

Easy, Duncan.		 {{GM}}Carter la voit aussi. Sa voix reste neutre{{/GM}}

Doucement, Duncan.
{{GM}}The troll maintains amused eye contact, but his weapon stays trained on Wu.{{/GM}}

That's right. Easy, Duncan.		 {{GM}}Le troll garde un air amusé, mais son arme reste fixée sur Wu.{{/GM}}

C'est ça. Doucement, Duncan
Your friend Raymond never showed. We've been waiting for the better part of an hour. Ton ami Raymond ne s'est jamais montré. Nous l'attendons depuis une bonne heure.
You were gonna meet with Raymond? Vous êtes ici pour rencontrer Raymond?
Think everyone can put their guns down? Et si tout le monde baissait son arme?
Mmm-hmm.
So... you were his tour guides, right?
What did he want with you? Qu'est ce qu'il voulait de vous?
{{GM}}The troll's yellow-brown tusks shift into a smile again.{{/GM}}

Kinda, yeah.

The old man hired us to take you all on an excursion.		 {{GM}}Les défenses jaunâtres du troll se dressent de nouveau en un sourire.{{/GM}}

Un peu, ouais.

Le vieil homme nous a engagé pour vous emmener en ballade.
{{GM}}Wu's brow furrows.{{/GM}}

Hired you?

{{GM}}He takes a moment. Looks them over.{{/GM}}		 {{GM}}Wu fronce les sourcils.{{/GM}}

Vous a engagé?

{{GM}}Il fait une pause. Les regardant à tour de rôle.{{/GM}}
They're an odd assortment. A cybered-up troll. An ork girl with magical fetishes. A dwarf with a cyberdeck slung on her back. And a tall elf standing behind them quietly, inscrutable.

All with guns trained on Wu.		 Ils font une drôle de clique. Un troll cybernétisé. Une jeune ork avec des fétiches magiques. Une naine avec un cyberdeck en bandoulière sur le dos. Et un grand elfe se tenant tranquillement debout derrière eux, impassible.

Tous avec des fusils pointés sur Wu.
{{GM}}Understanding spreads across Wu's face. His jaw tightens.{{/GM}}

You're shadowrunners.		 {{GM}}La compréhension s'imprime sur le visage de Wu. Sa mâchoire se resserre.{{/GM}}

Vous êtes des shadowrunners.
{{GM}}The troll's yellow-brown tusks shift into a smile again.{{/GM}}

He needed friends - the heavily armed kind.

The old man hired us to take you all on a little excursion.		 {{GM}}Les défenses jaunâtres du troll se dressent de nouveau en un sourire.{{/GM}}

Il avait besoin d'amis - du genre lourdement armés.

Le vieil homme nous a engagé pour vous emmener faire une petite promenade.
They're an odd assortment. A cybered-up troll. An ork girl with magical fetishes. A dwarf with a cyberdeck slung on her back. And a tall man standing behind them, inscrutable.

All with guns trained on Wu.		 Ils font une drôle de clique. Un troll cybernétisé. Une jeune ork avec des fétiches magiques. Une naine avec un cyberdeck en bandoulière sur le dos. Et un grand elfe se tenant tranquillement debout derrière eux, impassible.

Tous avec des fusils pointés sur Wu.
{{GM}}The troll nods.{{/GM}}

Mmm-hmm. 		{{GM}}Le troll acquiesce.{{/GM}}

Mmm-hmm.
{{GM}}Wu's shoulders creep up. His stance tightens.{{/GM}}

This is bullshit. Raymond would *never* hire shadowrunners.

They're criminals.		 {{GM}}Les épaules de Wu se contractent. Sa position se raffermie.{{/GM}}

C'est des conneries. Raymond n'aurait *jamais* embauché des shadowrunners.

Ce sont des criminels.
{{GM}}The troll corrects him.{{/GM}}

Mercenary operatives.		 {{GM}}Le troll le corrige.{{/GM}}

Coopératives de mercenaires.
{{GM}}The dwarf cuts in. Her voice is soft, but strong.{{/GM}}

*Criminal* mercenary operatives.		 {{GM}}La naine le coupe. Sa voix est douce, mais assurée.{{/GM}}

Coopératives *criminelles* de mercenaires.
So, yeah... you were right. Your buddy Raymond *was* associating with a bunch of hardened criminals. Alors, ouais... Tu as raison. Votre pote Raymond s'*était* associé avec une bande de criminels endurcis.
{{GM}}The troll tosses Wu a sideways smile while staring down the barrel of his gun.{{/GM}}

Sorry to burst your bubble, Lone Star. Guess you didn't know the old man as well as you thought, huh?		 {{GM}}Le troll lance un sourire en coin à Wu tout en regardant fixement le canon de son fusil.{{/GM}}

Désolé de faire éclater ta bulle, Lone Star. Je suppose que tu ne connaissez pas le vieil homme aussi bien que tu le pensais, hein?
Wu tries to shake it off, but he's struggling to process the information. You can feel the heat coming off of him.

The runners sense it too, and they tense up tight. They're keyed on Duncan, and their guns are big. The looks on their faces make it clear: one wrong bead of sweat and Wu's going down in a red mist cloud.		 Wu tente de se secouer, mais la il a du mal à traiter l'information. Vous pouvez sentir une vague de chaleur venant de lui.

Les runners le sentent aussi, et ils se contractent fortement. Ils sont fixés sur Duncan, et leurs canons sont immenses. L'expression de leurs visages est limpide: une mauvaise goutte de sueur et Wu va au tapis dans un nuage de brume écarlate.
{{GM}}Carter remains completely still. Her voice is level. Moderate. She's done this before.{{/GM}}

Let's all stay focused. No need for this to get ugly.		 {{GM}}Carter reste toujours très posée. Sa voix est calme. Modérée. Elle a déjà fait ca auparavant.{{/GM}}

Nous allons tous resté concentrés. Pas besoin que ca dégénère.
{{GM}}She speaks quietly to Wu, who listens without turning, his focus squarely on the troll.{{/GM}}

We need to find Raymond. These are the people who can help us do that.		 {{GM}}Elle parle tranquillement à Wu, qui écoute sans se tourner, son attention portée sur le troll.{{/GM}}

Nous devons trouver Raymond. Ce sont les gens qui peuvent nous aider à le faire.
This was about money, right? Let's talk about money. Il s'agissait d'argent, non? Nous allons parler affaire.
What were you hired to do? Pourquoi avez vous été embauchés?
She's right. Let's focus on Raymond. Elle a raison. Concentrons nous sur Raymond.
{{GM}}The troll is wary but willing. He lifts the barrel of his gun. Slightly.{{/GM}}

I like talking about money.		 {{GM}}Le troll est méfiant mais disposé. Il détourne le canon de son fusil. Un peu.{{/GM}}

J'aime parler affaire.
{{GM}}You can tell the ork girl's had enough of the tension. She blurts it out.{{/GM}}

The old man wanted us to take him into Kowloon Walled City.		 {{GM}}Vous pouvez dire que la jeune ork en a assez de la tension ambiante. Elle laisse échapper.{{/GM}}

Le vieil homme voulait nous emmener dans Kowloon Walled City.
{{GM}}She waves a hand at the three of you.{{/GM}}

You, too.		 {{GM}}Elle lève une main vers vous trois.{{/GM}}

Vous aussi.
{{GM}}Two large rats, clinging to her hip and shoulder, poke their heads out of the folds of her clothing. They fix their beady eyes on you intently.{{/GM}}

You know the Walled City?		 {{GM}}Deux gros rats, s'accrochant à sa hanche et son épaule, se dissimulant dans les plis de ses vêtements. Il fixent leur yeux globuleux sur vous, attentivement.{{/GM}}

Vous connaissez le Walled City?
Slum, right? I've heard of it. Bidonville, non? J'en ai entendu parler.
No. What's the Walled City? Non. Qu'est ce que Walled City?
Isn't *this* Kowloon City? Ce n'est pas Kowloon City?
{{GM}}The girl sneers, rolling her eyes.{{/GM}}

It's a shithole. The worst slum in the eastern hemisphere.

{{GM}}Memories of growing up in the Redmond Barrens flash through your mind.{{/GM}}		 {{GM}}La jeune fille ricane, roulant des yeux.{{/GM}}

C'est un merdier. Le pire bidonville de l'hémisphère oriental.

{{GM}}Les souvenirs de votre enfance dans les Barrens de Redmond vous reviennent à l'esprit.{{/GM}}
We get it. It's a real bad place. Now why would a little old man pay you to take him there? On a saisi. C'est un endroit vraiment terrible. Maintenant pourquoi un petit vieillard paierait pour que vous l'escortiez la bas?
{{GM}}The dwarf standing next to her nods and jumps in.{{/GM}}

Wouldn't say. He mumbled a lot, too. Just kept rambling on and on about how he *had* to get in.		 {{GM}}La naine se tenant debout à coté d'elle hoche la tête, et prend les devants.{{/GM}}

Pas voulu nous le dire. Il marmonnait beaucoup trop, aussi. Il suffit de voir à quel point il radotait pour dire à quel point il *voulait* y aller.
Under ordinary circumstances, I never would've accepted the gig. The Walled City's the last place I wanna go. But the old man rolled up a truckload of nuyen, and ya gotta eat, right? Dans ces circonstances normales, jamais je n'aurai accepté ce contrat. La Walled City est le dernier endroit où je voudrais aller. Mais le vieil homme a débarqué avec un camion de nuyens, et on doit tous manger, non?
Wu risks a glance at you. His weapon remains trained on the shadowrunners, but a flicker of uncertainty plays across his face. Wu risque un coup d'œil dans votre direction. Son arme reste pointée vers les shadowrunners, mais une lueur d'incertitude se lit sur son visage.
Interesting story. Seems like a good time to ramp down the threat of violence, don't you think? Histoire intéressante. On dirait que c'est le bon moment pour descendre d'un cran le niveau de menace, vous croyez pas?
Let's say we believe you. What now? Disons que nous vous croyons. Et maintenant?
Why would Raymond want to enter the Walled City? It doesn't make any sense. Pourquoi Raymond aurait il voulu se rendre dans Walled City? Ca n'a aucun sens.
{{GM}}The troll flashes you a smile that's all tusks and no warmth.{{/GM}}

Okay, gang. I tell you what. 		{{GM}}Le troll vous sourit de toutes ses dents et sans aucune chaleur.{{/GM}}

Okay, gang. J'vais vous dire.
{{GM}}He looks at his team as he slowly starts to lower his weapon.{{/GM}}

We're all gonna put our guns down-- 		{{GM}}Il jette un œil à son équipe et il commence lentement à baisser son arme.{{/GM}}

Nous allons tous baisser nos armes--
Didn't make much sense to us either. But like I said, Nuyen's nuyen.

{{GM}}The troll shrugs.{{/GM}}

Okay, gang. I tell you what.		 Ca n'a pas beaucoup de sens pour nous non plus. Mais comme je le disais, Un nuyen est un nuyen.

{{GM}}Le troll hausse les épaules.{{/GM}}

Okay, gang. Je vais vous dire.
{{GM}}The girl rolls her eyes.{{/GM}}

It's a shithole. The worst slum in the eastern hemisphere. Trid clips and news stories can't do it justice.

{{GM}}Memories of growing up in the Redmond Barrens flash through your mind.{{/GM}}		 {{GM}}La jeune fille roule des yeux.{{/GM}}

C'est un merdier. Le pire bidonville dans l'hémisphère oriental. Les trid clips et les reportages ne lui rendent pas justice.

{{GM}}Les souvenirs de votre enfance dans les Barrens de Redmond vous reviennent à l'esprit.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The girl sighs. Rolls her eyes.{{/GM}}

Yeah. This is Kowloon. But Kowloon *Walled* City is different. It's a shithole. The worst slum in the eastern hemisphere. Trid clips and news stories can't do it justice.

{{GM}}Memories of growing up in the Redmond Barrens flash through your mind.{{/GM}}		 {{GM}}La jeune fille soupire, roulant des yeux.{{/GM}}

Ouais. C'est Kowloon. Mais Kowloon *Walled* City est différent. C'est un merdier. Le pire bidonville de l'hémisphère oriental. Les trid clips et les reportages ne lui rendent pas justice.

{{GM}}Les souvenirs de votre enfance dans les Barrens de Redmond vous reviennent à l'esprit.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}He eyes Duncan.{{/GM}}

No one you wanna mess with.		 {{GM}}Il regarde Duncan.{{/GM}}

Personne avec qui vous voulez vous embrouiller.
{{GM}}The ork girl chimes in. Her tone is light - she's trying to diffuse the situation.{{/GM}}

We do odd jobs. For money.		 {{GM}}La jeune ork intervient. Son ton est calme - elle essaie de désamorcer la situation.{{/GM}}

Nous faisons des petits boulots. Pour de l'argent.
{{GM}}His voice is steady, but it's clear he's coiled.{{/GM}}

I don't think so. Not till I get some answers.		 {{GM}}Sa voix est calme, mais il est clair qu'il est déboussolé.{{/GM}}

Je ne pense pas. Pas tant que je n'aurai pas obtenu des réponses.
Like? Comme?
{{GM}}He mutters through gritted teeth.{{/GM}}

Like why a group of heavily armed assholes are meeting a little old man in a construction site at midnight.		 {{GM}}Il marmonne à travers ses lèvres serrées.{{/GM}}

Comme pourquoi un groupe de connards lourdement armés doivent rencontrer un petit vieillard dans un chantier de construction à minuit.
{{GM}}The ork girl chimes in. Her tone is light - she's trying to diffuse the situation.{{/GM}}

We do odd jobs. For money. 		{{GM}}La jeune ork intervient. Son ton est calme - elle essaie de désamorcer la situation.{{/GM}}

Nous faisons des petits boulots. Pour de l'argent.
{{GM}}Wu speaks softly, but you know that means he's reaching the end of his rope. He cracks his neck. Pop-pop.{{/GM}}

What kind of jobs?		 {{GM}}Wu parle doucement, mais vous savez que cela signifie qu'il a épuisé sa réserve de patience. Il craque son cou. Pop-pop.{{/GM}}

Quel sorte de boulot?
{{GM}}She gets a wry look in her eye. Her answer is flippant.{{/GM}}

*Odd* jobs. This and that.		 {{GM}}Elle le regarde ironiquement. Sa réponse est désinvolte.{{/GM}}

Toute *sorte* de boulots. De si, de ça.
{{GM}}The thick troll snorts a laugh.{{/GM}}

That guy looks like he could use an enema.

Something we can do for you, officer?		 {{GM}}Le troll costaud grogne un éclat de rire.{{/GM}}

Ce mec, on dirait qu'il va devoir subir un lavement.

Nous pouvons faire quelque chose pour vous, officier?
{{GM}}The thick troll smiles big.{{/GM}}

Oh, I can see that! Your buddies are totally chill.

Something we can do for you, officer?		 {{GM}}Le troll costaud sourit de toutes ses dents.{{/GM}}

Oh, Je vois ça! Vos copains sont impitoyables.

Nous pouvons faire quelque chose pour vous, officier?
{{GM}}The troll notes your action with a nod.{{/GM}}

Maybe we got off on the wrong foot just now. Something we can do for you, officer?

{{GM}}His mouth breaks into a patronizing grin.{{/GM}}		 {{GM}}Le troll appuie votre action avec un clin d'œil.{{/GM}}

Nous sommes peut-être partie d'un mauvais pied. Que pouvons nous faire pour vous, officier?

{{GM}}Sa bouche se tord en un sourire condescendant.{{/GM}}
Fuchi VirtuaX
Fuchi created the VirtuaX for employees. Now deckers love to use it against them. Adds 10s when hacking Blocker IC.
Advanced Knight Errant Drone
DocWagon Trauma Kit
Restores a downed teammate to battle with 25% of their total health. Consumed when used, or automatically when downed.
DocWagon Basic Trauma Kit
An effective flash grenade. Does 2 AP DMG to all hit by its blast. Makes targets easier to hit.
Neville Ma is dressed in an immaculate suit, surveying his party from the edge of the balcony.

As you approach, he inclines his head respectfully.
Good evening, $(l.honorific). I'm sorry, I don't believe we've been formally introduced.

{{GM}}He straightens his wristwatch.{{/GM}}

I'm Neville Ma, owner of Yellow Springs Studios.
$(s.honorific) Argent. Quite an affair you've got here.
I'm $(s.honorific) Argent. This is one decadent party. Must've been awfully expensive.
The pleasure's all mine, Mr. Ma. Call me $(s.honorific) Argent. Thanks so much for hosting this gala.
I do my best.

{{GM}}He gestures at the array of beautiful people mingling on the dance floor.{{/GM}}

Appearances are important in Hong Kong. If you look weak, that's how you'll be treated. Make a show of prosperity, and it will follow.
I'm sure everyone is glad to see your accident hasn't hindered you.
Anyone who puts that much stock in appearances is an idiot.
I've heard favors are worth their weight in gold here. Is that true?
{{GM}}He chuckles.{{/GM}}

I blame the newsfeeds for that. They made the accident seem much more serious than it was.

My car was destroyed, true, but I emerged largely unscathed.
{{GM}}He eyes you critically.{{/GM}}

I wouldn't say that at all. Perhaps it's true in Europe or the Americas, but here in Hong Kong, image is a matter of life and death.
Absolutely. Even if I were to lose everything tomorrow, I would still be rich in influence.

If you can't trade on your name and reputation, you are truly lost. Destitute, if you will.
{{CC}}Spellcasting or Conjuring{{/CC}} {{GM}}Use Astral Perception to assense Neville Ma.{{/GM}}
I've heard about your accident. How did it happen?
Thanks for talking with me, Mr. Ma.
Focusing your senses, you concentrate on Ma's aura. Your third eye slides open, unveiling the hidden reality of the astral plane. The walls of the Verandah balcony go gray and cold, and Neville Ma explodes into scintillating light.
Judging by the state of his aura, Ma appears to be in good health. His essence is slightly frayed - the sort of damage you'd associate with a standard datajack - otherwise, he appears to be more or less intact.

You do, however, detect a faint tinge of discoloration on the periphery of his aura. A chronic illness might darken an aura in this way, but you've never seen anything quite like this before.
Having seen what there is to see, your third eye slides shut again.

If Ma is aware that you've assensed him, he doesn't show it.
{{GM}}He sighs.{{/GM}}

It seems as though that's all anyone wants to hear about these days.

To be honest, I'm getting rather tired of repeating the story. Suffice it to say, a delivery truck - a drone - experienced a glitch and ran a red light. If it hadn't hit me, it would have hit someone else.
Do you think it was intentional?
Did the police discover anything unusual?
Sounds like someone's got it in for you. Know anyone who could've set this up?
What, the glitch? I can't rule it out, but that seems rather far-fetched to me.

I'm just a trideo producer. Hardly the sort of man to find himself on anybody's enemies list.
I was hoping to talk with you about your security door.
{{CC}}Biotech: $(story.global_skillcheck_medium){{/CC}} You don't appear to have any scars from the crash.
You were discharged from the hospital pretty quickly after your accident. Your treatments must have been expensive.
I heard you made a new friend while you were in the hospital.
{{GM}}The smile falls from his face.{{/GM}}

How do you know about that?
{{CC}}Etiquette: Security{{/CC}} {{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} Security sent me to talk to you. They didn't want to disturb the party by sending a uniformed guard.
A salesman from the security company dropped your name as a customer. I'm interested in getting one for my own apartment.
What did they want? Is there a problem?
No, nothing serious. But the Fire Safety inspector is here, and he's pitching a fit. He wants to have your key fob cloned immediately.
Somebody attempted to spoof your key fob. Maintenance wants to change your door's RFID code, and they need your fob so they can recalibrate it.
I see.

{{GM}}His tone changes - suddenly, he's all business.{{/GM}}

I shall see to it immediately.
There's no need for you to leave the party. I'll take care of it for you, and then bring your fob back to you when it's done.
{{GM}}He stares at you for a long moment, then gives you a slight nod. He fishes the fob out of his pocket and hands it to you.{{/GM}}

Thank you. Any other time, I'd handle this myself, but I cannot be seen fleeing my own party.
Of course you can't. You're very welcome, Mr. Ma.
Ah. That was... very careless of him. He should not have been discussing my private purchases without my permission.

I am sorry, $(l.honorific) Argyle. I do not feel comfortable discussing this matter, especially not in the midst of such a large crowd. Perhaps another time.
Focusing your senses, you concentrate on Ma's aura. Your third eye slides open, unveiling the hidden reality of the astral plane.

Ma's aura is unblemished. Other than his datajack, he doesn't appear to have any implants or enhancements. You do, however, detect a strange tinge shimmering on the periphery of his aura - a strange sense of sickness.
A chronic illness could cause this sort of discoloration, but you've never seen anything quite like this before.

Having seen what there is to see, your third eye slides shut again. If Ma is aware that you've assensed him, he doesn't show it.
No, I don't, do I? I paid good money to make sure of that.

As I said earlier, appearances matter a great deal, both in Hong Kong and in trideo.
Not especially. Guangzhou's hospitals are top-tier.

Confidentially, my rapid recovery mostly came down to luck; the accident could have been a lot worse than it was. I owe Eurocar a lot of thanks for their safety features.
Yes, Miss Feng. She's quite an admirer of Promises in Moonlight.

She kept my spirits up as I was recovering from the accident.
Sounds like you might be more than "just friends."
What line of work is she in?
I'm glad she could help with your recovery.
You're welcome to believe whatever you like. A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, however. And you would do well not to repeat such rumors - I prefer to keep my private life out of the spotlight.
I apologise. I didn't mean to offend.
Of course, Mr. Ma.
I accept, of course. You seem to be someone of quality - I wouldn't insult you by assuming you'd speak out of turn.
You have my thanks for your discretion.
She's independently wealthy. I believe that she was an early investor in Eastern Tiger during their expansion several years ago.
{{GM}}He smiles.{{/GM}}

So am I.
My pleasure. Please, enjoy the party.
Not really. Apparently, the latest software update to the truck had gotten corrupted, but that was all they found.

It was shocking to discover that the delivery company missed the glitch. But I suppose that it's a mistake anyone could have made, and certainly not enough to point to any one person.
{{GM}}He dismisses your comment with a wave.{{/GM}}

It's nothing. A drop in the bucket compared to what we pay for sets and costumes.

Period dramas are costly to produce, but they're what the people want to watch.
You're very welcome. It's important to show the industry - and the press - that Promises in Moonlight is doing well, and that we're still a local operation.

I hope that you're enjoying yourself.
Hello again, $(l.honorific) Argent. What can I do for you?
These deckers look different from many of the others on the show floor. As you approach, you can see the quiet confidence in their postures and the steel in their eyes.

Unlike their peers, these are professionals. Shadowrunners.
{{GM}}The most vocal of the three, a female ork with an obvious cybereye, addresses you.{{/GM}}

Maybe you could help settle this. My colleagues and I have a difference of opinion on the relative merits of mid-range cyberdecks.

Would you agree that the Fuchi VirtuaX is the best mid-range deck in its cla--
You always do this, Harridan. You word your questions to lead strangers into giving the answers that *you* prefer.

Now, the community consensus is that the VirtuaX is just an overpriced rehash of the Cyber-6 in a nicer-looking case--
Oh, shut up, Bierce.

{{GM}}Her voice is surprisingly deep and brassy.{{/GM}}

You're doing the same thing.
Besides, everyone knows that Fuchi is going down the tubes. Villiers is pulling assets out of the company and transferring them to his other holdings as fast as he can get away with it.

So if Fuchi is collapsing in on itself, and Fairlight doesn't do mid-range machines, then Allegiance is obviously primed to--
{{GM}}The ork sighs.{{/GM}}

NovaHott here is Allegiance's number-one superfan, in case you couldn't tell.

Never mind the fact that their only current product, the Alpha, is woefully lackluster next to the competition.
We've been going around and around on this for hours.

So what do you think? Which deck is going to be best in class at the midrange price point in '57?
{{CC}}Decking: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Medium){{/CC}} Hate to break it to you, but Fuchi's gonna stay on top in the midrange market. The VirtuaX will be best in class for its price point next year, just like it was this year.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Medium){{/CC}} I'm not a brand loyalist, guys. I don't have a horse in this race.
You can forget Allegiance *and* Fuchi. This time next year, cranial cyberdecks are gonna be the hottest thing in town.
I, uh, don't do a lot of research about store-bought decks. I prefer to build my own.
{{GM}}Bierce groans.{{/GM}}

Oh, come on. How can you still have confidence in Fuchi? The president/CEO of the company doesn't!

Go to Shadowland and see for yourself... there's a whole megathread devoted to the subject.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Corporate{{/CC}} Richard Villiers is one of the savviest businessmen in the world. If you think that Fuchi is failing, it's because he wants you to.
I don't let Shadowland posters tell me what to think. Fuchi's on top now, and it'll be on top a decade from now.
{{GM}}NovaHott nods slowly.{{/GM}}

I think that $(l.he)'s right. Villiers is no fool. He has to have some sort of ulterior motive for plundering the Fuchi coffers.

This wouldn't have gotten out at all if he didn't have some reason to want it to.
You're all overthinking this. This is corporate greed, plain and simple.

Villiers' company is going down the tubes, and he wants to take whatever he can before--
Doubt it. I think that our new friend is right - it's too early to write Fuchi off as a failure.

The VirtuaX is gonna take it again, just like I said. If it doesn't, I'll eat my own encephalon.
{{GM}}The ork gives you an appreciative nod.{{/GM}}

Thanks for helping us settle that, stranger. Now, is there anything that we can do for you?
Got any hot tips that a fellow decker might find useful? I've been out of the loop for a few days.
{{GM}}Point to the elf that you punched.{{/GM}} Did you see me lay that poser out over there?
How're you enjoying the Con so far?
Where are you from?
Gotta go.
{{GM}}She chuckles.{{/GM}}

Hey, join the club. Between travel arrangements and the transorbital flight out here, I'm a little behind on current events.
Yeah, I'm in the same boat. Wish that I could help you, but I sort of lose touch with the world the week of the Con.
Yeah, that was a beautiful sight. Maladjusted idiots like that give deckers everywhere a bad name.
If you hadn't punched him out, I probably would've had to.

Thanks for saving me the effort.
{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

It's what it always is. Bad food, a lot of antisocial people, and overpriced vendor kiosks. By the end of the weekend, I'm probably gonna have measles and/or the flu.

To be perfectly honest, I don't even remember why we all fly out here every year.
Bierce... we come out here because you start getting excited about the show months in advance every year.

You left me fifteen voice messages to make sure that I remembered to book the hotel room.
That's because I remember what happened in '52.

I do enough sleeping on the street back home. I don't need to do it when I'm on vacation, too.
How many times do I have to apologize for that?
I'll let you know when you can stop.
Macau.
I've got a house in Indonesia. Spend most of my time in Seattle, though.
I'm from Phnom Penh, but do a lot of work out here in HK.
Right.

{{GM}}She waves.{{/GM}}

See you around the show floor.
Oh, a Fuchi fanboy, huh?

{{GM}}Her eyes twinkle.{{/GM}}

Do yourself a favor and cozy up to Harridan. I'm sure that you two are gonna get along *just* fine.
Oh, shut up, Nova.

{{GM}}She smiles apologetically at you.{{/GM}}

Just a little good-natured ribbing, friend. Thanks for being a good sport about it.
Oh, another Fuchi fangirl, huh?

{{GM}}Her eyes twinkle.{{/GM}}

Do yourself a favor and cozy up to Harridan. I'm sure that you two are gonna get along *just* fine.
{{GM}}He raises an eyebrow.{{/GM}}

That wasn't an answer. You're dodging the question.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Hard){{/CC}} I don't have an answer. That's why I'm not preordering anything. The smart decker waits until the reviews are in before committing to a purchase.
{{CC}}Intelligence: $(story.Global_SkillCheck_Hard){{/CC}} That's because this is all baseless speculation. A million things could happen between now and '57.
I've said all that I have to say.
What $(l.he)'s saying makes sense, guys.

It might not be a fun answer, but it's a good one.
Yeah, I suppose.

{{GM}}She frowns.{{/GM}}

It's so much more *fun* to argue, though.
I think that you've earned your seat at the table, friend.

{{GM}}The ork makes space for you to join the group.{{/GM}}

Come on over and join us.
Well, *yeah,* but...
Well. That was spectacularly unhelpful.
Leave $(l.him) alone, guys. $+(l.he) didn't ask to get sucked into this conversation.

{{GM}}She turns to you.{{/GM}}

Look, do you need anything from us? If not, we'd like to continue our debate.
That's... interesting. And more than a little hardcore.

But as far as I've heard, we're still a decade off from cranial decks becoming the norm. You know something that we don't?
Yeah. I'm rocking one. So's that troll over there.
Really? Wow. That's pretty impressive... expensive, too.

If you're successful enough to afford a cranial deck, you're someone that I want to know. Hang around a bit, let's chat.
{{GM}}They stare at you. A long moment passes. Finally, Bierce begins to snicker.{{/GM}}

That's... that's funny. You're a DIYer, huh?

So you're telling me that you can cobble together a better deck than a Fuchi... or hell, an Allegiance... by yourself.
It could happen. Maybe I'm just smarter than you are.
I didn't say "better." I said that I build my own decks. I don't have a stake in corporate pissing matches.
Yeah... sure you are.

{{GM}}She turns away.{{/GM}}

See you later, genius.
I can respect that, I guess. But if you ever want to be competitive, you're gonna have to get past your whole homebuilt cyberdeck phase.
The deckers look up from their conversation at your approach.
You're back. What's up?
Look, $(l.he)'s back.

What do you want? You're interrupting a serious conversation.
This is a simple interface for the Nalchi's above-deck systems - drainage, running lights, water pressure, and cameras. Most of the systems seem to be basic enough that you wouldn't be able to do much with them. The camera feeds don't appear to be being broadcast to the bridge - they're going straight to recording.

With a little work, you could change that, and get a better view of the deck.
{{CC}}Decking: $(story.global_skillcheck_easy){{/CC}} {{GM}}Re-wire the camera feeds to gain access.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Have Is0bel hack the camera feeds.{{/GM}}
A few moments later, you've rebooted the topdeck cameras and patched them over to your commlink. Nobody on the ship will know, but you have a great view of the guards.

It looks like these cameras are isolated from the belowdeck cameras, however. To gain access to those, you'll have to get inside the ship.
{{GM}}After a few moments of fiddling with the cables, Is0bel closes the panel up.{{/GM}}

There we go. I've rebooted the cameras and patched them into our commlinks, and locked ship security out. Couldn't get into the cameras inside the ship, though. They must be on a different circuit.
Raymond as an old man.
Agent Provocateur
Stylish, yet secure enough to wear on a run. Grants +1 Decking and +1 ESP Control.
Esprit Flashbang Grenade
Esprit's basic non-lethal grenade. Does 1 AP DMG to everyone hit by its blast. Makes targets easier to hit.
The ultimate adept outfit for the ultimate adept.
Exiting the Ares Asia Holdings elevator on the 5th floor of the skyscraper complex, the antiseptic odor of the megacorporation's offices assails your nostrils.

The immaculately detailed interior speaks volumes of the wealth and control the North American industrial giant has come to wield over the Free Enterprise Zone.
{{GM}}Racter glances at his bracer, pulling up a page of notes on Ares Asia Holdings and scrolling through it.{{/GM}}

We're looking for a lab between floor fifteen and forty. Everything below fifteen is shopping and recreation, and the residential areas span fourty one to ninety two.
The auto-repair circuits should be up there as well.

I know Taylor and Hardingham. They'll keep it close to their main lab so they can work on the project in their off-hours, and they'll need specialized testing equipment - things you can't fit in an apartment, even a big one.
So everything we're looking for will be near the main lab?
The sooner we get up there, the better.
Yes. Once we plant the altered visitor record data, we can find the lab's precise location.

From there, everything we need should be nearby.
{{GM}}Is0bel doesn't bother looking up from her commlink as she speaks.{{/GM}}

We still need to plant the visitor data and find out which specific floor the lab is on. We should be able to do that down here in the lobby.
I'm betting we can use a public terminal to find out what floor the lab we're looking for is on. We can probably plant the altered visitor record data at the same terminal, too.
Hold your horses, $(string.Global_Gobbet_Nickname).

We still need to plant the visitor record data and find out which floor the lab is on. Looks like we can do that from down here, though.
While we're on the lobby floor, we should plant the visitor data and look up which specific floor we're headed to. Then we will be clear to proceed.
{{GM}}Is0bel taps your side, and gestures toward her commlink. It's displaying a rough and unlabeled schematic of the building.{{/GM}}

Looks like we're looking for a lab between floor fifteen and fourty. Most of that area is high security research facilities and equipment stress testing.
What about Racter's auto-repair circuit?
I imagine it will be near the lab as well. With such a delicate technology, I doubt the specialized equipment needed to design and test it would fit within a conventional apartment - even a large penthouse.
Probably nearby to their lab. I know Is0bel likes to work on parts for the Octopus while in bed, but...

{{GM}}Gobbet leands over, stage whispering in an overly conspiratorial tone.{{/GM}}

Normal people don't do that. Especially if they're senior researchers.
Well, we can search near the lab with the prototype. If it's not there, it's not there.

{{GM}}Duncan shrugs.{{/GM}}

Wouldn't you lock up your secret project near the tools you need to work on it, though?
{{GM}}Is0bel looks at you like you're something she's just scraped off her boot.{{/GM}}

I dunno, where would you keep your high tech research project? Probably by the same lab you're working in all day, right?

Come on. That's a stupid question.
{{GM}}Duncan taps the side of his goggles, evidently reading something projected on their surface.{{/GM}}

Based on what I could dig up, we're looking for something in the middle levels of this facility. Too far up and it's all residential. Down here, it's shopping and entertainment.
{{GM}}Gobbet pulls a wadded-up piece of steamed bun wrapper out of her pocket. It's covered in crude scribbles, like a child's treasure map.{{/GM}}

The laser lab should be somewhere... Uh... I wrote down the floors I thought would have it. Floor 88?
{{GM}}Gobbet squints at the wrapper more closely, biting her lower lip.{{/GM}}

Oh, no, wait. That's just a grease stain.

Anyway, the lab's in this building!
$(l.name), do you recall what Racter told us? The laser labs should be in the upper reaches of the building. As to which specific floor, I couldn't say.
Your presence on the lobby floor should go unnoticed even at this late hour, given the volume of workers and residents in the Ares facility.

Thankfully, you should be able to plant the visitor record data and find out what floor the lab is on from this floor.
Somewhere in the upper reaches of this complex is your quarry - no doubt well-guarded and watched over by the unflinching eye of Knight-Errant Security.

Similarly, the auto-repair circuitry Racter is seeking should be in or adjacentg to Taylor and Hardingham's drone lab. With any luck, you'll be able to do the job and get Racter what he wants without anyone being the wiser.
A standard keycard scanner.
{{GM}}Bang on the door.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}A muffled, annoyed voice shouts from the other side.{{/GM}}

WHAT?
Delivery from Wuxing! Got your package and receipt right here.
All deliveries go through the maintenance manager.

Her office is right around the corner. Got a big sign on the front. Can't miss it.
All right...
I'm the person who blew up the turbine! I'm, uh... supposed to make a statement?
Lucky you. One second, and I'll let you fill out the property-damage forms on our terminal.
All right, come on in.

Just don't go poking around the security system - stick to the forms. Terminal's in the back.
Yeah... Sure.
Kamikaze
A combat stim that adds +2 Body, +1 Strength, and +1 Willpower for 5 RNDS. Originally designed for high-threat response teams, it's now easily bought on the streets.
Kamikaze: Body +2, Strength +1, Willpower +1
Scrolling through the reams of information on display, you eventually find step-by-step instructions for disconnecting a subject from the machine while it's in a state of operation.

The instructions do not look promising.
This is hopeless. We can't shut this thing down according to the normal spec - we don't have the time, or the clearance, or the personnel.

*Maybe* if we had a week, Echelon security clearance, and an army of lab techs... but we don't. We're gonna have to improvise.
You're talking about "improvising" with his brain.
I don't like this. It's too risky.
Hell with it. Let's improvise, then... we've gotta get him out of there.
{{GM}}She looks you in the eye. Her voice is deadly serious.{{/GM}}

We don't. Have. A choice. We come up with something else, or we leave him here.
The console awaits your input.
{{GM}}Search for a way to perform an emergency disconnect from the system.{{/GM}}
Eventually, you turn up an alternative method - labeled deeply unsafe - for removing a subject from the machine midprocedure.

In order to perform an emergency disconnect, you're going to have to reprogram his memory manually using engrams stored in the ASIST machine's memory. Doing this through the terminal would take hours - you'll need a decker to guide the process in real time.
If you fail to restore Raymond's memories properly, he will suffer catastrophic neurological damage.

In the best-case scenario, he will be left a vegetable. In the worst-case scenario, he will die.
{{GM}}Enable the terminal's jackpoint and initiate an emergency override.{{/GM}} Here goes nothing...
We don't have a choice, my friend. We either roll the dice with an emergency disconnect, or we leave him here.
We don't have a choice, $(l.firstname). We either roll the dice with an emergency disconnect, or we leave him here.
Hey, I don't like it either, but I don't think that we've got a choice. We either roll the dice with an emergency disconnect, or we leave him here.
It's hopeless, my friend. We cannot operate this machine according to the normal spec - we don't have the time, or the clearance, or the personnel.

Perhaps if we had a week, Echelon security clearance, and an army of lab techs... but we don't. I'm afraid that we will have to improvise.
This is hopeless. We can't shut this thing down normally - we'd need time and equipment that we just don't have.

Fuck it. We're gonna have to improvise.
This looks hopeless. Even I can see that we can't shut this thing down normally... we'd need all kinds of time and equipment that we don't have.

Hate to say it, but I think that we're gonna have to improvise.
From what you're reading on the console, it'd take a small army of lab techs, an Echelon-level security clearance, and about a half a day to remove Raymond from the machine safely.

You don't have those resources, and you certainly don't have that kind of time.
Cast Confusion
Target changes faction
Fog I
Gain Ability: Active Defense.
Gaichu gains a defensive ability that adds +2 Armor and +1 Dodge. Cost: 1 AP. Cooldown: 5.
Gain Ability: Coup de Grace
Gaichu gains a katana ability. +100 DMG, but can only attack stunned targets. Cost: 2 AP. Cooldown: 3.
Gain ability: Shuriken
Gaichu gains a ranged ability, a quick shuriken toss. DMG: 12 HP, 1 AP. Max range: 10. Cooldown: 2.
Gain Ability: Whirlwind
Gaichu gains a katana attack that can hit adjacent targets. +2 DMG. Cannot do AP DMG. Cooldown: 2
Increases accuracy by 30%, and critical hit chance by a small amount.
Augment Stance: Metal: Cover Bonus
Gaichu's Metal Stance now provides a Light Cover bonus, preventing critical hits in the open.
Ares Alpha
Ares' top-of-the-line assault rifle. Its bullpup design allows for the accuracy of a long barrel in a small, lightweight package.
Coyote Totem
Coyote grants all allies within a range of tiles 3 with Quickness +1. Lasts 3 RNDS.
Coyote: Quickness +1
Matrix Echo
Keeps that pesky 'real' world at bay, while you get down to the good stuff. Grants +1 Intelligence, +1 Decking, and +1 ESP Control.
This vent could fit a drone through it. Absent that, there's not much you can do with this.
{{GM}}Send one of the team's drones in.{{/GM}}
Stunball I
Magical explosion that does -1 AP.
Paydata: Repulse Bay Hotel Expansion Plans
These are plans for The Repulse Bay's intended expansion. Local construction firms would likely pay well for it.
Using Bark Skin Power
Duncan's Armored Vest
Esprit's basic non-lethal grenade. Does 1 AP DMG to all hit by its blast. Makes targets easier to hit.
Killjoy 1 (Matrix)
Basic Cyber Arm
Designed to be a simple replacement for the typical organic limb.
Noxious Breath III
A venom spray that does -12 HP DMG, plus an additional 4 HP and 1 AP DMG that lasts for 2 RNDS.
Noxious Breath: AP -1, HP -4 per RND
A large, moderately customized terminal that contains an external cyberdeck port and hi-def speakers.
Reflex Trigger
An integrated system that boosts the user's reflexes. Passive: +1 Movement. When triggered, you will dodge the first attack against you each round. Lasts 3 RNDS. Cost: 0 AP. Cooldown: 4.
Reflex Trigger: Dodge Next Attack
Your commlink buzzes - it's Raymond. Still alive.
$(l.firstname)... wh-what is your... status?
Your mother set up a cordon around the inner Walled City. We just got through.
We're almost at the center of the Walled City. Had some opposition from Tsang security.
C-cordon? Oh my... how did you get through?
You don't want to know.
We had to take them down.
{{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} The opposition stood down and let us through.
They let us pass. Nobody wanted to die.
The opposition stood down and let us through.
{{GM}}He lets out a sigh.{{/GM}}

Too much... too much loss of life... because of m-me.
It was unfortunate, but unavoidable.
I made a mistake, and they attacked in retaliation. I'm sorry.
Please, $(l.firstname)... try to avoid more c-casualties.
No, $(l.firstname).

Tsang security... are little more than wage slaves with g-guns... unlikely they understand what is really going on.

Same with the locals... some have become c-crazed from the Yama King's visions.
You need to be careful... the nearer you draw to the Fortune Engine... the worse the a-astral disruptions will become.

And make sure that when you reach --
The call cuts out.
Well, shit.
No, no, no!

{{GM}}Wu looks around with a grimace.{{/GM}}

Did that sound important to you? Because that sounded absolutely fucking necessary to me.
We can't do anything about losing touch.
Can we re-establish contact?
Nah, I'm sure it'll be fine.
Raymond? You there?
{{GM}}Duncan runs a hand through his hair in frustration, but relents.{{/GM}}

At this point, the only thing we can do is move forward. So let's get to it, $(l.name).
The Walled City's mid-ring stands tall before you. It looks even worse than what you just trekked through, a jumbled nightmare of crumbling buildings and exposed wires. A terrible sense of deja vu washes over you.

You put one foot in front of the other and press further inside.
{{GM}}Gaichu shifts his weight.{{/GM}}

At this point, the only thing we can do is move forward. Lead the way, $(l.name).
{{GM}}Gobbet runs a hand over Folly, then sighs.{{/GM}}

At this point, the only thing we can do is move forward.

Go on, $(story.Global_Nickname_Gobbet)... let's get to it.
{{GM}}Is0bel sighs, her frustration plain.{{/GM}}

At this point, the only thing we can do is move forward. Lead the way, $(l.name).
At this point, the only thing we can do is move forward.

{{GM}}He waves his hand toward the next section of the Walled City.{{/GM}}

After you, my friend.
The line is dead. There is no response.
Hmm. A most inopportune moment to disconnect. Let's hope what Raymond tried to share isn't vital to our plans going forward.
No... No! Are you kidding me? This guy's timing could *not* be worse!

That better not have been important. 'Course, knowing our luck...

{{GM}}She sighs.{{/GM}}
Well... crap. That sounded kind of important. Hope he was just trying to remind you to wear clean underwear, or else we just missed something vital to our operation.
There is a poetry to this, $(l.name). At this critical moment, we're presented with an urgent message from Raymond... only to have it interrupted. The timing, the tension... so perfect.

{{GM}}He allows himself a satisfied smile.{{/GM}}

Bad luck, eh? And we are certainly in the place for it.
{{GM}}A pause on his end.{{/GM}}

I understand... this is m-my fault. Please do what you can... to avoid further... c-casualties.
{{GM}}He sighs. You can hear the relief in his voice.{{/GM}}

Good... good. Too m-much bloodshed... already. We must... prevent... as much as we c-can.
I'll do what I have to do, Raymond.
Tsang security? Oh m-my... h-how did you get through?
Charge Lvl 2
Charges IC up to Level 2
CHARGING... 100%
Light Security Armor
Integrated full-body protective armor. Styled for intimidation and protection. Used by security forces worldwide. Grants +10 HP.
The Fortune Engine itself stands before you, an enormous, malevolent presence that fills the test chamber ahead.

Raymond pushes forward, leaning in to study the control console with a look of determination on his face.
I w-will close the r-rift.

I just need--
He bends over the terminal, frowning. His eyes dart from readout to readout.

As you watch, the blood drains from his cheeks.
What's wrong? Destroy the thing before she comes back!
What's wrong?

Destroy the thing before she comes back!
I... I can't.

{{GM}}He gestures at the technical readouts on the Fortune Engine's monitors.{{/GM}}

There is a one-way f-flow of astral... e-e-energy moving from the inner Walled City through the t-tunnel.

I... I know what it is.
Well? Don't leave me in suspense. What is it?
{{GM}}Gobbet wrinkles her nose and gets a far away look. She sways for a moment, and speaks as if in a dream.{{/GM}}

I can feel it, too. The energy is coming from the people that she's feeding on. Their essence. Their *spirits,* for lack of a better word.

{{GM}}She sways awhile longer, a puzzled expression on her face.{{/GM}}
If I destroy the m-machine now, it will collapse the t-t-tunnel. All of those people will have the b-better part of their essence... what makes them who and w-what they are... trapped inside. With her.

Forever.

Thousands of p-p-people, condemned to an eternity with that parasitic *thing.*
Do we have another option?
Sonofabitch.
The needs of the many, Ray. Do it. A few thousand people is nothing compared to the entire Walled City.
{{GM}}Raymond squeezes his eyes shut. Works it through.{{/GM}}

Yes. Someone could enter the t-t-tunnel... close the rift s-safely.

The people would be saved. Restored to life in the real world.
And what happens to the person in the tunnel?
He stays there. F-forever.

With her.

{{GM}}His shoulders sag.{{/GM}}

There's n-no... no way out... once the tunnel is c-c-closed.
There is a long pause as the assembled group digests Raymond's words.

Duncan nods to himself, his jaw clenched. He pushes forward.
Fuck it, I'll go. Just tell me what to do.
Got any suggestions? We have to do something...
I'll do it.

Just tell me what buttons to press.
{{GM}}The old man stares at the controls, cold fear washed across his face.{{/GM}}

No. If anyone is to d-do this... it must be me.

{{GM}}His voice strengthens and you can see the old fierceness rising from within... the iron will of your childhood.{{/GM}}

It *will* be me.
Hang on a minute, Raymond.
Don't do this, Ray...
No. N-not Raymond.

My name is Edward Tsang, and I b-built this machine. I set this avalanche in m-motion... whether I meant to or n-not. It is my responsibility to stop it.

{{GM}}He turns to you resigned.{{/GM}}

That is what this is all about. What it's b-been about since the very beginning.
No. N-not Ray.

My name is Edward Tsang, and I b-built this machine. I set this avalanche in motion... whether I meant to or n-not. It is my responsibility to stop it.

{{GM}}He turns to you, resigned.{{/GM}}

That is what this is all about. What it's b-been about... since the very beginning.
Raymond - listen to me. You're too weak for this.

Just tell me what to do.
No. The Yama King... c-could return at any moment. There is no time... to t-teach you what to do in there.

I must set things in motion.

It must be me.
{{GM}}He turns to you.{{/GM}}

Goodbye $(l.firstname).

{{GM}}He smiles sadly.{{/GM}}

Thank you for coming to Hong Kong. Thank you for coming when I called.
So long, little man.
I owed you one for pulling me off the streets. We're even now.
It was my duty. I did what had to be done.
For what it's worth, I'm glad that I did.
Goodbye, Dad.
The old man flips a lever and steps into the machine.

There is a flash of light, and Raymond Black is gone.
The Yama King... c-could return at any moment. I must set things in motion now.

{{GM}}He stands up straight, the authoritarian of old.{{/GM}}

Take care of Duncan, $(l.firstname). You are family - if not by birth, then by circumstance.

Never forget that.
I won't forget.
Goodbye, Raymond.
And $(l.firstname)...

{{GM}}He smiles sadly.{{/GM}}

...Thank you for coming to Hong Kong. Thank you for coming when I called.
Goodbye $(l.firstname).

{{GM}}He smiles sadly.{{/GM}}

Thank you for coming to Hong Kong. Thank you for coming when I called.
The hell with it, I'll go. Just tell me what to do.
Yes.

{{GM}}His voice strengthens and you can see the old fierceness rising from within... the iron will of your childhood.{{/GM}}

I will enter the tunnel and close it from the inside.
{{GM}}Raymond squeezes his eyes shut.{{/GM}}

There is another way. Someone could enter the t-t-tunnel... close the rift safely.

The p-people would be saved. Restored to life in the real world.
{{GM}}He squeezes his eyes shut.{{/GM}}

No. There is a b-better way. Someone could enter the tunnel... close the rift safely.

The p-people would be saved. Restored to life in the real world.
The energy is coming from the people that she's feeding on. Their essence. Their *spirits,* for lack of a better word
What's wrong? Destroy the damned thing before she comes back!
What's wrong? Destroy the stupid thing before she comes back!
{{GM}}This ork is busily snacking on a steamed bun. As you approach, he wipes off one of his hands and sticks it out toward you.{{/GM}}

Hey, stranger! Nice to see you. Zippy Toetag at your service. How are you liking Whampoa Garden?
I'm $(s.name). Nice to meet you, Zippy.
You're awfully friendly. You don't even know me.
Nice to meet you too. Listen, I know it's a little forward of me to just say hello and whatnot, but I'm interested in giving you a hand if I can.

{{GM}}Zippy gestures expansively at the squalid, neon-lit streets of Whampoa Garden.{{/GM}}

This is my home - at least for the time being - and I'd like to stop these killings.
We've never met before this, but I know exactly who you are. You're my replacement.

The Elders had me autopsy what was left of Elder Gan and Elder Nakamura after they got ripped apart, but I didn't want to dig any deeper.
So since I don't know you, and I can smell a shadowrunner a mile away, you've got to be the outsider they asked to stop the killings, right?

{{GM}}Zippy tilts his head back, obviously pleased at his amateur deduction.{{/GM}}
Very astute. That's right.
Show-off. Yes, you're right.
Nothing gets by you, does it?
See? I have good eyes. A lot of good eyes, actually - if you're in the market for replacements. Only slightly used, and they only come from certified donors, I swear!

{{GM}}A hearty belly laugh erupts from the ork, and he slaps one of his thighs in elation.{{/GM}}

Man, I kill myself!
Pretty funny. You a stand-up comedian?
That was awful.
Make a joke like that again, maybe I'll kill you first.
With jokes like that? Are you kidding me?
I'm one of the only trained surgeons around here. I keep the other Whampoans healthy - got a practice down the road.

Blind Chen's a pretty good cyberdoc, but he's basically an implant specialist and that's it.
You don't seem much like a doctor to me.
I did my residency back in the UCAS. Coulda become a real M.D., too, if things hadn't gone south for unrelated reasons.

{{GM}}Zippy opens his coat, revealing a cyberdeck. He pats it proudly.{{/GM}}

I also deck a little, but I'm better at slicing skin than IC. Whampoa Garden seemed a good fit for me.
You must have a lot of customers.
So is it fairly peaceful around here?
Let me ask you about Whampoa Garden.
See you, Zippy.
That's the chip truth. I have to charge to cover my costs and eat, but it's damn near free service. There's always a waiting list. But it's good, honest work. I like helping my neighbors and the community. We all look out for each other - somebody messes with one of us, they mess with all of us.

That kind of community is rare as gold, these days. How many places have an ethos like us? Not the damn corps, that's for sure.
I've lived a lot of places, done my fair share of shadowrunning. But this place is special. It's been a long time since I really felt like anywhere was a real home.

{{GM}}Zippy looks off past you, toward the Whampoa Garden streets. His expression grows wistful, like he's remembering something from a long time ago.{{/GM}}

I'm sure I'll move again, but not for a while. I'm not done with this city or these people.
For the most part. Other than these killings, we don't have much by way of problems. We do information security for the triads, and that makes us fairly impervious to anyone who wants to start trouble.

Anyone starts something, we hit 'em in the Matrix while our triad friends hit them in meatspace.
Some small time gangs have tried pushing in here before, but they backed off when they figured out they weren't just picking a fight with Tang and his guys, but with both the Red Dragon and Yellow Lotus.

They got the message real quick - what was left of them, anyway.
Sure thing. What do you want to know?
{{GM}}Zippy shrugs, grinning wide.{{/GM}}

I know. I always wanted to be a stand-up comedian, but all my jokes are terrible.
So if you're not a comedian, what are you?
{{GM}}Zippy holds up his hands, still chuckling.{{/GM}}

Okay, okay, I get the message! No more bad jokes. I know I'm no comedian.
Hey again. How can I help you?
What are your thoughts on the murders?
What can you tell me about the Elders?
Can you tell me more about Elder Magpie?
It looks like Tong was killed by a blade, not a broken neck or a bite.
See you later, Zippy.
{{GM}}There is a sharp intake of breath as Zippy shakes his head.{{/GM}}

Pretty gruesome business.

Gan died from a broken neck. Looked like someone had wrenched it around, and his arms and legs were cut off. Some skin flayed away, too.
Nakamura had his throat ripped out by someone with pretty sharp teeth. At first I thought it was a devil rat, but the teeth marks were all from something with a humanoid jaw.

I didn't look at Yetunde - from what I saw at a distance, it was the same story. Didn't seem much point, since I'd seen it twice already.
As for Tong, from what Porter told me it was Gan and Nakamura all over again.

You take a look at him yet?
Yeah. It's the same as you described for the others.
Not yet, no.
{{GM}}Zippy shakes his head sadly.{{/GM}}

Damn. I liked Tong. The BTL business is unsavory, but the man had to eat. And his regular sims were great.

Generally all-around nice guy. Friendly with everyone, never had anyone mad at him. There ain't no justice, let me tell ya.
Well, dollars to donuts it's the same story. Teeth, claws, the works.

{{GM}}Zippy shakes his head sadly.{{/GM}}

It's all so insane. Tong never hurt anybody.
Okay, okay!

Don't get your cables in a twist, I was just curious.
{{GM}}Zippy laughs, shrugging.{{/GM}}

Well, they're an eclectic bunch, that's for sure. Where to start...
Ng's the spiritual leader here. She's the voice of the Whampoans, I guess. A lot of her close friends are really more of 'followers', since she's something of a priest for the machine spirits.

Maybe it's a cultural thing for people who grew up here, but it's never called to me. Still, she makes a damn fine pot of tea.
Ip's the muscle, and has an encyclopedic knowledge of cyber and bioware. Definitely a good guy to have watching your back. Not too friendly, but you know how it is - you get a lot of cyber, people start wondering if you'll tear their arms off.

{{GM}}Zippy makes a chopping gesture with one hand.{{/GM}}

He's got moves straight out of Blood Carnival 3: The Reckoning. Terrible movie, but great fight choreography!
What about Tang?
There was also that guy with the tattoos.
I don't know much about him, but I think he's got some kind of fetish for automation. Found him cooing over some trids of automated delivery drones in a warehouse, once.

He works with drones - has a shop called The Blessed Autofab. He was raving about the efficiency of the movement patterns or something.
You already know about Tong. Ran sims, BTLs, skillchips. Gan used to be a city planner before he had a nervous breakdown and got involved in statistical analysis.

{{GM}}Zippy pauses to collect his thoughts.{{/GM}}

Nakamura came from Fukuoka, and was interested in entertainment - trid mostly. Spent a lot of time analyzing subliminals in ads.
Then there was Magpie. She was the chief decker. Hot as hell against IC, and built her own hardware. Salty old woman, though. Never met anyone who was quite as shrill or nasty when she was mad.

She was mad most of the time.
Tell me more about her.
Wait, nobody mentioned Magpie to me. When did she die?
I've heard about Magpie. She sounds like she was difficult to work with.
Not much to tell, really.

{{GM}}Zippy shrugs noncommittally.{{/GM}}

Maybe a month ago, she just up and disappeared. I went to her shop one day, and she just wasn't open. Nobody's seen her since.
She didn't. Maybe a month ago, she just up and disappeared. I went to her shop one day, and she just wasn't open. Nobody's seen her since.

Kind of a pain my the ass, too - she owed me some new analyze software she'd picked up.
I've never heard of Magpie either. She must be one of the newer Whampoans. If she was the decker, she would have replaced Elder Gao.

No surprise there. Gao was older than Qin Shihuangdi's terracotta warriors. When I was learning decking from him, he could barely get out of bed. Still fast as hell in the Matrix, though.
How can you be new and an Elder?
{{GM}}Is0bel rolls her eyes.{{/GM}}

It's a stupid name. It doesn't actually have much to do with time spent in the community. That has something to do with it, sure, but it's mostly about how skilled you are, how good your connectons are, and how much you can help everybody else.

Shoulda called 'em 'experts' or something.
Bingo. That's exactly it. She was only here for about three years, but she knew a lot of people all over the Matrix, in Shanghai, in Beijing... All kinds of places. That plus her skill meant she was a shoe-in when Gao died.
Why would she disappear?
Where do you think she went?
That's what everybody said. Me, I never had a problem with her. You just have to know how to finesse her a little, you know? Make sure she thought everything you wanted her to do was her idea the whole time.

If you didn't do that, it was like dealing with a goddamn mule. I was good at it, so it was never a problem.
Oh yeah, that's Tang.

I think he's even weirder than Ng, on some level.
Sure. What do you want to know?
How did Magpie and the other Elders get along?
Some of Magpie's gear is missing. Who'd have an interest in it?
I found this necklace. Was this Magpie's?
Let me ask you something else.
No idea. One day she was here, the next, poof. At first I thought she was just on vacation, since she had mentioned wanting to see the Kingdom of Hawaii some day, but it didn't feel right. She would have at least told me she was leaving.

It seems mighty suspicious to me. Nobody else seems to care what happened to her, probably because she pissed them all off so bad.
Is there any place you think I should start looking?
A little odd for her to just disappear, don't you think?
You might wanna check out her shop. It's all locked up, but the other Elders have a spare key. Couldn't hurt to look around, and even though Magpie was always butting heads with the other Elders, they wouldn't have any reason not to let you in.
What do you mean, they were butting heads?
What did they argue about?
Of course it's odd! She owed me lunch, too, and she was the sort who paid her debts promptly.
Magpie and the others never saw eye to eye. She was contrary for the sake of it. Most of the rest had a grand vision for what they wanted this neighborhood to become. Magpie just wanted to deck. She was only an Elder because they needed someone with her matrix chops.
The last big argument was between her, Ng, Ip, and Nakamura. It was over something relatively trivial - I think Nakamura wanted to expand the pirate trid business into the matrix, and she just absolutely refused.
Why did she refuse?
She sounds like she didn't care for entertainment taking precedence over business.
She said something about not using up valuable bandwidth for "trivial entertainment bullshit". Anyway, it went from there into this rant about how she wasn't going to let Tang expand his drone business any further, because it would get too much megacorp attention.

They accused her of blocking them just because she could - which is probably true. Lots of screaming.
What do you mean, 'blocking them'?
No wonder they were mad.
Everybody needs her matrix skills for their businesses to run properly. There are other deckers - me, say, or Moe Jnebi - but she had the infrastructure. If their project didn't interest her, she wouldn't even give them the time of day.
She's a real hard-head about having her time wasted, but she figures if she's not interested in something, it has no value objectively.

Kind of a major blind spot, if you ask me.
Sounds like she was critical.
Could you let me into her shop?
Yes and no. She was, but since she disappeared, Elder Ip's taken over running the matrix infrastructure.

He's not as good at it as she was, but his experience with drones makes him the best candidate. They wouldn't entrust something like that to anyone who wasn't an elder, so there you go.
No can do. Not because I don't want to, but because I just don't have the key. You'd have to get it from Ip. He's taken over all the matrix infrastructure maintenance since Magpie disappeared.

He's not as good at it as she is - or as I am - but they're not gonna let anyone who isn't an Elder take care of that kind of critical stuff.
Yeah, you're telling me. I liked the old coot, but she was a handful at the best of times.
That's exactly it. She gave Nakamura an earful, let me tell you.
That depends. What's missing, and what's still there?
A lot of chips have been cleaned out, and software too. There are some fully built decks that are still there.
Hmm. That doesn't feel right to me. A Whampoan wouldn't root through her things. It's not our way. Any kind of theft like that is taken very seriously, and nobody who knows how to move chips is hurting for money. Even if they were, the risk is too high - we're a small community. Someone would notice.

If I had to guess, I'd say an outsider took her gear, and has it stashed somewhere.
Are there any outsiders who've been snooping around?
Can you think of anyone who fits that description?
Other than you? No.

People do come and go from here every day, but nobody stays. They're only here for business. If whoever stole her stuff is here, they're in hiding.
Come to think of it, Magpie did have a stockroom hidden in the basement of some restaurant around here. She was awfully cagey about where it was, though, and I never saw a key.

Maybe the gear's down there.
{{GM}}Zippy turns the necklace over in his fingertips.{{/GM}}

Yeah, that's hers all right. Where did you find it?
In the storm drains. It was covered in blood.
{{GM}}Zippy takes a long, slow breath and exhales it loudly.{{/GM}}

Well, shit.
{{GM}}Shaking his head, Zippy crosses his arms.{{/GM}}

I guess she didn't disappear after all - at least not in the way I thought. If that's where you found it, she's got to be dead.

So why would the killer not make a mess, like he did with the others?
That's what I aim to find out.
Good. This business keeps getting weirder and weirder.

Someone killed my friend. You find 'em, you make 'em hurt for me.
Sure thing. What do you need?
{{GM}}Zippy recoils, shuddering against the rain.{{/GM}}

What kind of blade? Was it a knife? A sword? Maybe an axe?
I don't know. But he was attacked at the back of the neck.
It was a long, sharp blade. Maybe a sword or a cleaver.
I don't like that at all.

{{GM}}Zippy shivers, looking warily around.{{/GM}}

This whole affair's got me on edge. People dying is nothing new, but the flayed skin... Ugh.
{{GM}}After a moment, Zippy composes himself and looks back to you.{{/GM}}

It sounds possible that whoever's been killing the elders is trying to muddy the waters with all of the blood and gore business. This is the crime of an intelligent, careful killer.

Be careful. This investigation might take you somewhere very unpleasant.
Placeholder
Special Projects Pass Codes
Communications Data Store
>Scion
Device Operations
>Prodigal

Nitro
This popular drug psyches up the user for combat. Adds Strength and Willpower +2 but -2 Charisma and Intelligence for 5 RNDS.
Nitro: Strength +2, Willpower +2, Charisma -2, Intelligence -2
Consume Spirit
Can only target spirits. 99 DMG. Caster gains 10 HP and 2 AP over two turns.
Astral Leech
Places an astral effect on the target for 2 RNDs. If the target is damaged by any other character, that character gains 4 HP per RND for 2 RNDs.
Marked by Astral Leech
Browning Max-Power
A powerful heavy pistol and primary rival to the Ares Predator. Slightly more cost-effective, but slightly less capable.
{{GM}}Stepping into the anterior hallway of the Shangri-La, you're confronted by a massive wall of troll - the restaurant's front door security. He speaks with surprising elocution.{{/GM}}

Welcome to the Shangri-La. We strive to provide our patrons with an exquisite dining experience. If you have any questions, or require special accommodations, don't hesitate to speak with our staff.
Small crowd. Where are all your diners?
Judging by these empty tables, your business is either tanking, or the food's sent them all running.
Looks like I've got my pick of tables.
Most of our weekday business is confined to the private rooms upstairs. Corporate affairs and such...
{{GM}}He looks you up and down. Frowns.{{/GM}}

Please keep in mind that any disturbances will be promptly deescalated by our security. We reserve the right to bar service to unruly patrons. Thank you, and enjoy your meal.
Noticed your security's a bit light tonight. You sure you have enough guards to deal with bigger disturbances?
What security? I don't see any guards around.
You say that, but I don't see and guards working here. Should I put it to the test?
{{GM}}With a puff of his chest and shake of his shoulders, the troll assumes a more aggressive posture. His face remains a mask of neutrality despite the obvious irritation in his voice.{{/GM}}

Wuxing prides itself on having world-class security personnel. You'd do well to remember that the best kind of security is often hidden from sight.
{{GM}}Under $(s.him) breath.{{/GM}}

Pretty hard to not see that guy.
Humorous that he thinks the worst threat would shamble in through the front door.
Yeah…yeah. This guy knows what he's talking about.
Strange. Most of my conversations about security usually end with someone having significantly less blood than when they started.
{{GM}}The troll ignores your threat, unphased, his eyes gliding across the faces of newly-arrived guests.{{/GM}}

Believe me, $(l.sir), you'd find the consequences of such an outburst most…unsavory. Behave yourself, and you'll get to indulge in the fine cuisine here at Shangri-La. Good evening.
Certainly not, $(l.sir). Most of our weekday business is confined to the private rooms upstairs. Corporate affairs and such...
I'm sorry, but this is not a seat-yourself establishment. If you'd like to choose where you sit, I suggest you make a reservation for one of the private rooms upstairs.
{{GM}}This street vendor is hawking obviously cheap junk he probably bought in bulk from an outlet. Charms, trinkets, and small toys litter his stall. He waves his arms excitedly, drawing you over.{{/GM}}

Hey, friend! Friend! Come, look at my wares! Many fine souvenirs for you!
No thanks. But have you seen anyone suspicious around here?
How about some information, instead?
I don't need anything right now.
What, other than you?

{{GM}}The junk vendor leans back against his stall, tilting his chin upward.{{/GM}}

Maybe I have, maybe I haven't. What can you do for me, hmm?
{{CC}}¥100{{/CC}} Here's some money. What have you seen?
{{CC}}Strength: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Medium){{/CC}} Spit it out, old man, or I'm gonna find out who you pay protection to and make them a better offer.
{{GM}}The vendor greedily snatches the credstick from your palm, turning it over and caressing it like a raccoon with a shiny coin.{{/GM}}

Yes, good, good! Thank you very much, my friend.
There were some mercenaries moving through here earlier. Big guns, nasty expressions. I think they were from outside of Hong Kong. I didn't understand the words they were saying.

I didn't see how many there were - less than ten, but enough to be a crowd.
{{GM}}The junk vendor goes back to organizing his shop, nodding in your direction.{{/GM}}

Anyone starts shooting, keep it away from my stall, eh? I don't want any trouble.
{{GM}}The junkman shrinks back against his booth.{{/GM}}

Okay, okay! You don't have to do that, I'll talk!
{{GM}}The vendor eyes you warily, picking a few bits of stray food from his beard.{{/GM}}

Maybe I can help you. But how can you help me, eh?
{{GM}}Maximum Law stands out in the rain, arms folded across his chest.

His normal air of bravado and jitteriness has blown away like cobwebs. He exudes the aura of a granite block. Or an anchor, abandoned by its ship and about to be overwhelmed by the ocean.{{/GM}}

$(L.name). 'Sup.
Gimme the tech. I've got no time to waste.
Shouldn't you bunker up?
You armed, Law? Ambrose wants to be sure you are, if you're staying out here.
{{GM}}Leave.{{/GM}} Keep your head on a swivel.
{{GM}}Leave.{{/GM}} Later, you stupid melon.
I can't believe you're *shopping* right now.

{{GM}}He swings his goggled face around, gazing through the torrents of rain - taking in the chaos.{{/GM}}

Watch out for yourself, $(L.name).
NO! I'm sick of people asking.

{{GM}}He juts his lower jaw. His VR goggles appear to be about to give up the ghost - but his feet are firmly planted.{{/GM}}

I'm not going anywhere. This is my boat, and my barge, and my techno-palace! I'm staying!
"Maximum Law don't rabbit, yo! He is HERE to STAY!"

{{GM}}He raises his clenched fists, then splays his fingers dramatically.{{/GM}}

BOOM!
What? No... I always just rely on the neighborhood for protection.

{{GM}}He looks around anxiously.{{/GM}}

Shit, I guess I can't rely on *nothing* now...
{{CC}}Item: Raquel the Uzi{{/CC}} Here... this is Raquel. Ambrose sent it.
{{CC}}Intelligence: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Easy){{/CC}} Call Ermine Ka Fai and offer her 500 nuyen for a Street Sweeper. For that price, she'd bring it out to you through a nuclear bombardment.
Well... tough luck.
Whoa... thanks, $(L.name).

{{GM}}Law takes the submachine gun reverently from you.{{/GM}}
You know how that works?
Ah, I've seen it a ton of times in Matrix games.
{{CC}}Ranged Combat{{/CC}} Okay, hold it... safety's here. This is the fire selector. It's a light round, but Ambrose only has a BR/FA trigger group, so it's gonna buck. Keep it on burst.
Don't shoot your foot off.
Good luck, then.
Wait, don't I want...

No, I guess you're right... okay, bursts only.
Magazine release is here. When you insert a fresh magazine, pull the charging lever, like so, to chamber a round.
{{GM}}Law dutifully mimes the reloading sequence.{{/GM}}

Uh-huh... like this, and... ka-thunk.
*Never* put your finger on the trigger until you're ready to engage. Don't sweep the muzzle past anything you value: keep it at the sky, at the ground, or at the target.
It's a device meant to kill. Keep your finger off the trigger and the business end pointed someplace safe - until it's go time.
Otherwise, just sling it around. Experienced people don't really need to use the safety. Just don't shoot anything by accident. That would be stupid.
{{GM}}Law sheepishly takes his finger of the trigger.{{/GM}}

Oh... okay, I got it. So... more like in "Cold Kill: Warfighter" than "Wildfire Chronicles."
Shoot at very close range, center of the torso. Two hands and gun to the shoulder, like this. Shoot sparingly: any stray rounds can kill someone you care about.
Exactly. Shoot to kill. Aim between bursts. Stock on your shoulder, like so. And keep breathing.
Yeah, the whole "Cold Kill" series is pretty faithful about range procedure, if a bit starched. Spool up the tutorial in those goggles of yours.
Thanks, $(L.name). Man, this is... okay, this is serious.

{{GM}}Law begins to casually drape Raquel over his chest, finger unconsciously back on the trigger - then pauses, removes his finger, and carefully slings the weapon.{{/GM}}

All right, I'm good. Anything I can help you out on?
Okay...

{{GM}}Law brandishes Raquel menacingly, and practices a few quick turns, his finger perilously quivering on the trigger. He hesitates anxiously for a moment, but then he deliberately flicks the safety off.{{/GM}}
No worries, man.

{{GM}}Law grips the sling, and casually flings Raquel over his shoulder.{{/GM}}

I got things covered!
Yo. Keep it real!

{{GM}}Law grips the sling, and casually flings Raquel over his shoulder.{{/GM}}

I got things covered!
Thanks, $(L.name). That's a good idea. I'll do it.
Yo, you too.
Takes one to know one.
Max Law & Puppet Versions
Law stands amidst the typhoon-drenched aftermath of his store. He looks like he hasn't moved all night.

Display cases are partly full of water. Ragged holes gape in the tarps, drenching the crates and boxes beneath them.
Hi... yo... $(l.name).

{{GM}}His voice is haggard. He sways on his feet.{{/GM}}

'Sup?
Is your store okay?
You look like birdshit. What happened?
You have a trauma boot and bandages on your foot...
How's Raquel treating you?
See you later, Law.
See you later, Law.
Ah... well... a lot of this stuff is in bins, or waterproof anyway.

It's a full-on mess, and a bunch of parts are probably wasted... but it'll be okay.
What do you think happened?

{{GM}}His voice has the dreamy quality of sleep deprivation.{{/GM}}

I haven't moved since you last saw me, 'cept to pee over the side.
This is my barge, and that's my boat. Their names are Killgore and The Monkey King.

I ain't leaving them for some storm, so a bunch of crazy people from the Walled City or whatever can strip them clean.
He stares forlornly around the half-ruined shop... then suddenly breaks into a huge, giddy grin.
That shit was AWESOME! Wow, yo... rain so thick I could hardly see the dock! It *totally* shut down the wi-fi!

It was like the Stone Age!
{{GM}}He thrusts his clenched fist high in the air. Triumphant. Heroic.{{/GM}}

Maximum Law, 1. Typhoon Usagi, 0.

BOOM!
You're all right, Law.
You are one crazy cat.
Okaaaaay then...
Noted.
Thanks, $(L.name). You're all right, too.
No way. Crazy means that what you're doing is nuts. What I do is *awesome.*
Well...

{{GM}}He looks around at the mess.{{/GM}}

I guess it's time to put this back together.
Yeah, uh... there was an accident with the gun...

{{GM}}He down at his gauze-swathed foot, embarrassed.{{/GM}}

Ambrose gave me a whole bunch of lidocaine. I can't feel it now... but he says Zippy is gonna have to grow me a new foot.
I'm, uh... I'm gonna get a Taser. I think.
{{GM}}Law pats the Uzi III, slung comfortably under his shoulder.{{/GM}}

I kinda like her. Ambrose is gonna teach me how to shoot. He says he can't really use her with a robot arm, so somebody's got to represent Geeks-With-Guns around here.
I always thought he was a washed-up windbag... but he's a pretty bad-ass dude, once you get to know him.
See you later, $(L.name).

Watch your back and shoot straight, and all...

{{GM}}Law seems to fumble for words.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}His eyes fall on your PDA. He pulls himself up into an authoritative bearing.{{/GM}}

You're still using that piece of crap? That thing uses Scarab chips, but the array-core Alphex-02s are much better. It's got a PCMA2 motherboard, which is a box of wet noodles...
Same old Maximum Law. See you around, friend.
Tell it, Law.
{{CC}}Decking: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Hard){{/CC}} Bullshit. Scarabs on *any* PCMA2 with this kind of Rath-Optimizer way outperform an Alphex...
{{GM}}Snort{{/GM}} Techies.
Hey, I'm not done telling you--
Law's shrill voice slowly blends into the sounds of the docks: the patter of rain falling on the tarpaulins, the sizzle of cooking, the creak of old wood, and the rapid music of metahuman voices.
Beneath it all, the eternal roar and mesmerizing electric hum of Hong Kong.
Yo, you know I will! I'm just telling it how it is.

You know how Scarabs got designed? Those no-talent hacks at Fuchi didn't understand their own tech specs, so...
What? Are you crazy? First of all, Scarabs are built by Fuchi and the PCMA series is by Renraku, so they're not even the same ecosystem. Secondly...

{{GM}}He begins listing his dubious points, punching his finger against his palm. A grin seeps across his face as he sputters at you.{{/GM}}
Later, $(L.name). Watch yourself, carnivore.
Bins of electronics crowd every dry patch of deck space on this rusty old boat.

A young man wearing bulky virtual reality goggles glances your way for a moment, then turns away in disdain.
I'd like to look at your tech.
{{GM}}He doesn't even look at you.{{/GM}}

Shop's closed. Get lost.
Overhead, a gigantic holosign shines like a searchlight, screaming its message through the dim light.
It hums and flickers, sputtering like an old engine. Fierce electrical crackles sporadically burst out of the sign's emitter, stabbing your eyes and filling your ears with static.
Under the baleful glare of the sign, the rusty mini-barge's deck is stacked with electronics.

Dilapidated stereos share space with crisply boxed servers. Ranks of discs and memory chips fill display cases, padlocked under Plexiglas.
A short human in his late twenties stands in the middle, hands on his hips, talking loudly into the air.

Bulky virtual reality goggles cover his eyes. A datajack cable runs from his temple, down his stained T-shirt, to a beltload of clearly home-built computer hardware.
No - I’m telling you...

{{GM}}His voice is shrill, clipped.{{/GM}}

NOBODY uses KM3s… like, nobody. They’re shit. … I don’t care what Deng says, if Shiawase SRP uses KM3s, they’re stupid.

Hey… flesh is rolling up, I gotta go.
{{GM}}He turns to face you, goggles blank and enigmatic... blinking with tiny lights and wrapped in duct tape. He points at your PDA.{{/GM}}

I ripped that PDA. You work for Kindly.
{{GM}}His lips work impatiently.{{/GM}}

Yo, what do you want?
What's all this junk?
You provided this PDA? Tell me about it.
{{GM}}Servos whine as two lenses on his goggles zoom in on you.{{/GM}}

*Who am I?*

You're new here, I get it. You don’t know about me yet, but you will. I’m one of the guys that keeps this neighborhood running.
This is Law’s Technology Palace, satellite territory of Whampoa. You step on the boat, you’re in a sovereign state. I represent Whampoa here.

I'm Maximum Law.

{{GM}}He draws himself up proudly, setting his hands on his hips.{{/GM}}

THE Maximum Law, yo.
You got a tech problem, BOOM! I solve it. You need software? BOOM! Done... but don't waste my time.

So, you got any business in Whampoa right now? If not, keep moving.
{{GM}}Maximum Law's mouth crinkles in disgust. He jabs a pudgy finger at you.{{/GM}}

Junk? Hey, if you can't see what's in front of you, that's not my problem.
It *was* a Fuchi AzuraStar 3. They use a Scarab chip, which is good, but the motherboard is wet noodles and sprouts.
I pulled out the trackers and installed encryption. Now it runs on the Whampoa virtual network. The corps and cops can’t crack it, can't track it.
Well, thanks for the PDA.
Who are you, anyway?
{{GM}}He shrugs dismissively.{{/GM}}

It's what we do.
Shop's closed. Get lost.
Maximum Law surveys the docks from beneath his meticulously patched tarpaulin: goggled and belted with electronics, his arms folded, his expression stern... a sweat-drenched little king. His boat rocks gently.

As you approach, he looks sharply your way, and breaks into an awkward smile.
Hey, $(L.name)! I was hoping you'd come around.

You got a minute?
Not now, Law. I'm in a hurry.
What's up?
Okay, no problem.

{{GM}}Law looks crestfallen. With his scuffed shoe, he nudges one of the bins of electronics at his feet.{{/GM}}

You looking for some parts?
Kindly had Whampoa burn your SIN. Word is you're doing work for her. Not normal Yellow Lotus stuff.

{{GM}}Law shifts from foot to foot. He fidgets with the hardware on his belt.{{/GM}}

*Shadowrunning.*
Maybe. Maybe not. What about it?
Yes, I'm now an "unusual asset."
I don't know what you're talking about.
$+(S.man)'s got to eat. I'm doing whatever's necessary to feed that need.
I get it. Well, I didn't hear anything about it.

{{GM}}Law smiles tightly, like a conspirator.{{/GM}}
Wicked.

{{GM}}Law says it distinctly, in a hushed tone - then seems to catch himself. He draws himself up to his full height. His usual demeanor of self-assurance returns.{{/GM}}

That's pretty iron-clad, $(L.name). Pretty vicious. If you do good, you'll be noticed.
Listen, if you've got info about runs... I can make it worth something.

We Whampoans call that kind of thing "metadata." Whampoa likes to get the word on the street, from the active operators.
Worth something? Credits?
Doesn't Whampoa's service to their clientele include not prying?
Sorry, Law. Silence is part of my service.
Yeah, I can hook you up with something... maybe creds, maybe some sweet programs. But really, you'll gain face with Whampoa. That counts for a lot more than money.
{{GM}}Law looks out through the rain, across the rocking boats. He wipes his foggy goggle lenses with a rag from his pocket. His stomach gurgles loudly.{{/GM}}

Augmented reality goggles aside, this gig gets really boring sometimes. You ever want to talk shop, I'm here.
It's not prying.

{{GM}}Law speaks with authority. He thrusts his chest out, and puts his hands on his hips.{{/GM}}

It's gathering information. The world *runs* on information. If you've got metadata for me, great. If not, see if I care.
Yeah, I get it... it's a covert world.

Think about it, though. We Whampoans *manage* secrets already. It's what we do. We run the shadow-nets.
{{GM}}Law’s VR goggles drip in the rain, and blink with what look like error lights. He sweats profusely in the steamy humidity.{{/GM}}

Yo, you’re back. I’ve probably got what you need. Just remember: you’re in Whampoa here.
{{GM}}Law is speaking into the air as you approach. His bulky goggles flash with an unusually diverse array of conditions lights.{{/GM}}

Yo, T-Zero... I gotta go, man. This is the cat I was telling you about.
{{GM}}The goggle servos whine softly as a set of lenses focus on you.{{/GM}}

$(L.name)! What's going on? What have you been up to?
Wait, were you just telling someone about me?
My notoriety precedes me, I see.
Law, don't do that. Play things quiet.
Whatever. Let's get down to the business.
Don't worry, T-Zero is Whampoan. He's so cool he's like refrigerant.

So what can I hook you up with today?
Hey, that's what you get for being vicious.

So what can I hook you up with today?
Yo, $(L.name)!

{{GM}}Law's voice is gregarious, yet tinged with awe. He smiles widely.{{/GM}}

How can I style out the carnivore? What d'you need?
Yo, $(L.name)! Welcome back to the Palace. You got anything interesting to tell me today?

{{GM}}He looks at the heap of wearable computers, PDAs, and chipdecks on his nearby workbench.{{/GM}}

'Cause I got nothing but fixing hair curlers and debugging old ladies' PDAs. I swear I'm gonna die of boredom.
Law raises his VR goggles as you approach. His eyes are deep brown, surrounded by premature wrinkles. He squints in the light, blinking.

He seems at a loss for words.
Hey, $(L.name)! I, uh...

{{GM}}His voice is subdued.{{/GM}}

I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, uh... to put anyone in danger.
Lesson learned. Don't worry about it.
Null sweat.
Just keep your mouth shut in the future. Don't make me ask you again.
Acknowledged.
{{GM}}He pulls his VR goggles back down.{{/GM}}

I guess shadowrunning's a darker business than I thought.
It's an ugly world. Stay out of it if you can.
It is what it is; you just have to play by certain rules.
Dark? Shit... dark like a prison riot.
It's all just business to me.
Yeah, I don't want anything to do with shadowrunning, anymore.

I'm not like you, $(L.name)... I'm not some carnivore. I don't want to be one.
{{GM}}Law looks pensively around the docks.{{/GM}}

I want to get out of here, $(L.name). I want to get on to something bigger.
{{GM}}Rain drizzles. Torn tarpaulins flap weakly, and docks creak. The odors of garlic, sizzling fish, ginger, onions, raw sewage, and industrial effluent mingle in the heat.{{/GM}}

This place is kind of a shithole, isn't it?
It's not so bad.
It sure is a shithole.
Like you said: it's a stepping stone.
Yeah... the dead fish and acid rain really tie it all together.
I guess not...

I want something more, though. Dealing tech is gonna be my way out of here.
I guess that makes my strategy clear...

{{GM}}Law breaks into a rascally grin.{{/GM}}

Welcome to Law's Technology Palace, $(L.name). What useless junk can I sell you?
It's good to be honest about it.

{{GM}}Law stares out into the falling rain. His goggle lenses whine in shifting tones, as if struggling to focus.{{/GM}}

For now, though, it's home... and dealing tech is gonna be my way out of here.
Yeah, it is... and dealing tech is how I'm going to get out.
{{GM}}Law laughs.{{/GM}}

They do, don't they? Well, for now... it's home. And dealing tech is my way out of here.
Yeah, well... whatever the rules are, I don't want anything to do with it.

I'm not like you, $(L.name)... I'm not some carnivore. I don't want to be one.
I guess you'd know. Well, I don't want anything more to do with it.

I'm not like you, $(L.name)... I'm not some carnivore. I don't want to be one.
You're a real carnivore, $(L.name)... I get that. I'm not like that, though, and I don't want to be.

I don't want anything to do with shadowrunning, anymore.
Yo, $(L.name)! Welcome back to the Palace. The Palace of BOOM!

{{GM}}Law laughs to himself.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Law is clearly worried. He's got a sick look, like he's just been punched in the stomach. He frets about the Technology Palace.{{/GM}}

Yo $(L.name). Thanks for talking to me.
Yeah, whatever.
You gotta go? Okay... watch your back and shoot straight and all.

{{GM}}Law grins at you, and dextrously flashes a hand sign that shadowrunners give each other in holovid shows.{{/GM}}

I got things to do, too.
See you later, $(L.name). Watch out for yourself, carnivore.

Long live the BOOM!
Yo $(L.name), lemme know if you need anything. You're the biggest carnivore in the Kong.
Yo, $(L.name)!

{{GM}}Law's voice is gregarious, yet tinged with concealed awe. He smiles widely at you.{{/GM}}

Anything you need, let me know.
Law, we need to talk... privately. It's important.
Let's talk, privately.
That is an amazingly ostentatious holosign you've got.
Why are you wearing VR goggles?
Looks like you've got some dangerously exposed wires over there.
What did you want to talk to me about?
I'm here for tech. Show me what you've got.
I've got some metadata for you.
What's your standing with Whampoa, now?
Are you back on good terms with Whampoa?
Tell me about Whampoa.
About the Whampoan Elder massacre--
Your Elders hired a ghoul assassin to--
A ghoul was killing your tribal Elders...
Yo, I am your man for that.

{{GM}}Law glances around with an almost comic furtiveness, bulky goggles weaving.{{/GM}}

Here? I can't leave the Palace...
That's okay, we can talk here. Just keep your voice down, and turn off your "open" sign for a moment.
Ah... never mind. It can wait.
Yo, you got it.

Anybody ever tell you you're kinda a spooky $(L.guy), $(L.name)? You kinda are.
Law's boat obscures you from the shore, and his bulky piles of tarp-shielded electronics somewhat obscure you from the boardwalk.

Concealment is poor, and dynamic at best - but at least the lanes of visibility are confined.
I dig the shadiness, I dig it.

Now I am your *man* for serious business. What's up?
You’ve been talking about me and my team on the BBS, and people are sniffing around.
We have an information hygiene problem: You've IDed my crew on chat boards.
You need to stop spouting to your buddies about me and my crew. Got it?
{{GM}}Kill Maximum Law.{{/GM}}
Ah, people talk. Whatever, it’s no big deal. The BBS and the Whampoa boards are secure.

This is what Whampoa *does.* We handle info... and right now, your face is golden in Whampoa.
My face isn't the problem, Law. It's yours. Whampoa thinks you've been running your mouth.
Heoi is getting heat because of what you've said, Law. We're all in trouble - you most of all.
This isn't a game. People are hunting us. If this goes further, they'll find us - and probably you.
{{CC}}Decking: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Easy){{/CC}} No, they aren't secure. They're *anonymous.*
{{CC}}Etiquette: Shadowrunner{{/CC}} The BBS isn't secure. It's not supposed to be.
For real? Come on, man... I mean, it's the BBS!

{{GM}}Law begins talking rapidly.{{/GM}}
And I guess we shoot the shit while playing games sometimes too… but I play with great guys… We're all Whampoan, they're totally watching my back. Seriously, if there's a problem, it's totally from somewhere else...

{{GM}}His voice trails off.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}The blood drains from Law's face.{{/GM}}

You're... you're serious, aren't you? Oh no... oh, fuck, man... what've I done?
He swallows hard. Sweat runs in streams down his face, from under his VR goggles. He breathes heavily.
A quick glance around reveals that there's a lull in the usually busy foot traffic on the nearby docks. Only a few people are in sight.

This may be the only opportunity to kill him.
You're an asset to Heoi and Whampoa... but you need to be discreet. Can you be discreet?
When code misbehaves in Whampoa, it gets deleted. You follow? You need to conform to spec.
Heoi is your community. People here watch out for each other. Honor that... keep quiet.
Do whatever you want... but do it quietly if you want to survive.
Yeah... I can.

{{GM}}Law nods, and swallows hard again.{{/GM}}

What should I do, $(l.name)?
Keep your mouth shut. Play smart. You'll be fine.
Fly your own flag. Set up your own shop - but keep your mouth shut.
I suggest you get quickly and quietly out of town - and don't come back.
{{GM}}Maximum Law looks like he's about to be sick. His voice is faint.{{/GM}}

Th-thanks, $(L.name).
It's all forgotten.
Don't mention it. Just keep your chin clean.
Running is a dark and bloody business. Don't get involved in it.
You just came very close to dying.
{{GM}}Law nods, and swallows hard again.{{/GM}}

What should I do, $(l.name)?
Any struggle is likely to draw attention. Without silenced weapons, drugs, or special magic, there are very few ways to dispatch Law here quickly and quietly.

This will take some strength or skill.
The wires from the holosign hum with voltage. An arc of blue-white electricity jumps between their exposed cores.

These could easily electrocute a person. Or two people, if you were part of the circuit.
Law is looking at you expectantly. Only a few people have line-of-sight on you and Law. You can see them, from the corner of your eyes.

There's a distant boom and clatter. The people on the docks all look away, toward the sound.
{{CC}}Decker{{/CC}} {{GM}}Electrocute Maximum Law with your cyberdeck.{{/GM}} Let's talk where we can't be watched: jack into my deck...
{{CC}}Strength: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Hard){{/CC}} {{GM}}Shove Maximum Law into the wires.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Unarmed Combat: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Medium){{/CC}} {{GM}}Break Maximum Law's trachea.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Don't kill Maximum Law.{{/GM}}
Sure thing...

{{GM}}Law is deeply preoccupied. He absently takes the cable from you and plugs it into his datajack.{{/GM}}
You toggle the deck's illegal antitamper system. The internal capacitors electrify the cable with a split-second pulse of alternating current.

Law stiffens for moment, muscles spasming.
He goes down like a rock, crashing loudly onto the deck. His heart will now be fibrillating.

A few moments' wait, and he's still lying unconscious on the deck, which indicates he doesn't have an automated defibrillator in his heart. Death is assured.
You grab Law and hurl him hard backwards, toward the wires - and let go just as quickly, to stay out of the contact.
Law crashes backwards into the wires, spread-eagling into the wall.

He jolts, stiff, muscles spasming. Face contracted in a demonic rictus. His VR goggle lights flash like stars, then wink out.

The electrical hum of the wires is ever so slightly louder. The holosign flickers.
Law's knees buckle. With a raspy, animal sigh, he crumples to the deck - and falls on his face, with a loud clatter and thump.
An old man on the docks looks back your way. He must have heard the sound. From where the old man is, Law's body must be obscured by bins of goods, on the deck.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Easy){{/CC}} {{GM}}Look around curiously, too.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Grab a nearby monitor and throw it overboard.{{/GM}} Just getting rid of the stuff that can't be fixed!
{{CC}}Quickness: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Hard){{/CC}} {{GM}}Slink out of sight.{{/GM}}
Big fish!
The old man sees you looking around. He gives you a gesture of friendly confusion, as if to say, "I don't know what it was either."

Then he turns away.
The old man laughs and makes a comment. His soft voice carries across the water to you... something about it being about time the "Junk Palace" got rid of some of those eyesores.

Then he turns away.
Maximum Law lies facedown on the deck - dead. The job is done.
An auto-cart pulls up on the docks to the south, across the canal. A family spills out of it. Responding to the commotion, an armed man emerges onto a low rooftop, and surveys the docks. Looking your way.
Your fleeting moment of privacy has passed. You quickly drag Law behind his large display of goods, and pull a tarp over him.

Strangler Bao's men can take care of the body.
You fade back out of sight, under the eaves of the deckhouse.
The old man looks at you like you're crazy, then shakes his head. His faint voice reaches you, something about "... not since the benzene spill."

He regards you suspiciously for a long time, then turns away.
With a punch of your fingers, you break his windpipe. Law gasps. Clutching his neck, he seems to lose all sense of the outside world.
You ease him quickly down onto the deck, and hold him down with your foot on his neck. The light fades in his eyes.

It's done. Nobody seems to have noticed.
This place is too busy, and the concealment is too sparse. You'll have to talk Law into a solution.
I... what do you mean? They're data havens!
You're not actually a decker, are you? The data havens are *anonymous* and hardened, not secret.
Corporate deckers and bots crawl them. Johnsons use them as much as runners do. That's part of why they're able to survive.
Havens like the BBS are a no-man's-land where *very* dangerous parties meet to carefully trade information.
Full of criminals and cutthroat runners.
A crowd of workers is moving goods across a nearby dock. Some are looking your way across the water. You're in plain sight. You'll need to keep Law talking, and wait for an opportunity.

It looks like the workers will be gone in a minute.
You sure? If you've got some business you need help with, I'm the guy. You've got the power of Whampoa at your back, when you work with us.

{{GM}}Disappointment is poorly concealed in his voice.{{/GM}}

Well, you know where to find me.
Yeah, we're back to that? Okay.
Shut off your "open" sign.
Yo.

{{GM}}Maximum Law looks up at the gigantic blue-white letters with deep satisfaction.{{/GM}}

It's pretty boss.
Yeah... pretty boss.
That must cost you a small fortune in electricity.
That thing gives me a headache from fifty yards.
Damn right.

{{GM}}He gives you a virile nod.{{/GM}}

You're a $(L.guy) who appreciates the good stuff. I like that.
Whatever, I'm not paying for it.
Half of Heoi gets its juice from a pirate tap on a big Mitsuhama DC cable under the river. Mitsuhama's like...

{{GM}}His voice winds up into a mocking whine.{{/GM}}

"Oh, let's run two million volts from the cold fusion plant to the island, under the river... those slum-monkeys can't tap an underwater cable."
Idiots.
You know who built the tap that pulls electricity off that cable? Whampoa! You know whose barge holds the transformer? Mine!

{{GM}}Maximum Law thrusts his fist high in the air, in silent victory.{{/GM}}

Cheap power for all, and a whole lotta extra for me. Behold the lighthouse of BOOM!
Thanks.

{{GM}}Law looks up proudly.{{/GM}}

It shows everybody on this river who THE man is to come to, for tech.
It’s not VR. It’s “Augmented Reality.” We’re pioneering it. Little cameras, Matrix overlay. I can support a three-dimensional HUD, and subwindows with live multiple feeds.
I’ve got a command shell open right now. I’m networked with five guys.

{{GM}}Law taps his goggles.{{/GM}}

Wave of the future.
Wave of the future, huh? A future where you can’t look anyone in the eye and you resemble a B-grade sci-fi character?
Techies trying to proxy for astral perception with gadgets. Cute.
{{CC}}Decking: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Easy){{/CC}} Augmented Reality? I hear a lot of corps are experimenting with it, but not… in such a socially invasive way.
Sounds interesting.
Hey, if you don't understand it, that's not my problem. This is the new world. You're the one who's going to get left behind.

{{GM}}Law says it with supreme confidence. He holds his fist high in victory.{{/GM}}

BOOM!
Don't give me that woo-woo villain-chaser bullshit. All that astral stuff? It doesn't do anything tech can't do better, ultimately. It's just a shortcut.

{{GM}}Law says it with supreme confidence: a statement of perfect fact. He hooks his thumbs in his bulky electronics belt.{{/GM}}

BOOM!
Yeah... Shiawase, Fuchi, Renraku, a couple others.

{{GM}}Law waves his hand dismissively.{{/GM}}

Some of us took a look at what they’re doing. Their whole approach is flawed… they won’t get anywhere.
You guys *looked at* everything multiple megacorps are doing?
Sounds like you're on it.
Noted. Let's get back to business.
Yup. Corps can't think like us. They're paper tigers. Inside all that money and organization, they're systems run by idiots. Their coders lack perspective... no complexity of thinking. The system prevents it.

{{GM}}Law says it with supreme confidence: a statement of perfect fact.{{/GM}}

BOOM!
We are.

{{GM}}Law says it with supreme confidence: a statement of perfect fact.{{/GM}}

BOOM!
Fine by me.
It is.

{{GM}}Law says it with supreme confidence: a statement of perfect fact.{{/GM}}
Yo, what are you... my mother?

{{GM}}Law regards you with skeptical disgust.{{/GM}}

Those wires are fine where they are - high and dry. They're only a problem for someone who does something STUPID.
I'm running a high-bandwidth tech operation. Do I look like I have time to tape copper and sip tea? No. I don't.

{{GM}}Law raps his knuckles fiercely on a clear-topped case full of buses, cables, and cable harnesses.{{/GM}}

These are the only wires you need to think about.
BOOM! Another problem solved by Law's Technology Palace.
Yo, tell me what you've got!

The network *runs* on information.
Come by the boat and I'll show you a prototype laser weapon!
The recent heist at the Emperor's Tomb Museum - the one under construction - had a specific target: books.
We wrecked the feng shui at Wuxing's Skytower. Subtly... but effectively.
A 289 Red Pole just got snatched in Aberdeen. A guy named "Rooster."
The Red Dragon Association just go framed for industrial espionage at Ares Asia.
Entertainment bigwig Neville Ma has a vampire associate. She healed him after his recent auto wreck, in exchange for living the high life.
Penelope Wong was sacked from "Promises in Moonlight," because the producer is being blackmailed.
Tir Tairngire intelligence is targeting Eastern Tiger Corporation. They're after genetics research.
Never mind. Let's talk about something else.
Wicked.

{{GM}}Law says it with breathless awe.{{/GM}}

You're serious, aren't you? Wow... okay. That's, like... *way* better than metadata. I'm gonna invoice this as full-on paydata.
The tribe is gonna *freak.* Lasers are, like... second nature to us.
Okay... here's one of our paydata preloaded credsticks.

{{GM}}Law hands you a nondescript certified credstick, and then produces a small chipcase with a flourish.{{/GM}}

...And this is something special: a game avatar for "Inferno Souls," built by my friend Shockstat. Fully loaded and farmed.
Thanks. I look forward to checking out Shockstat's work. I hear she's a true artist.
Appreciated. I don't game though.
Uh... can I sell this, or something?
{{GM}}Pump your fist.{{/GM}} YES!
You know, I'm really more a "Master Felon: Shanghai" fan.
She is. She's an awesome lady.

{{GM}}Law smiles wistfully.{{/GM}}

*Art galleries* show exhibits of her avatars.
That doesn't matter! It's a gift, okay? Trust me, her work is beautiful.

*Art galleries* show exhibits of her avatars.
BOOM!

{{GM}}Law holds his own fist high, as if in victory.{{/GM}}

You're gonna love it. It's truly beautiful. *Art galleries* show exhibits of her work.
I'll come by the boat later... when I can get a little time.

Man, I can't wait. You're the best, $(L.name).
What? Are you huffing spray paint? I can't believe you, $(L.name)!

First of all, "Master Felon" has no plot, you just run around doing random stuff, like, "Oooo, look at me, I'm rigging your skooter!" Second of all, that 2030s cheesy retro fashion is the stupidest thing ever. Third...
{{GM}}Law reigns himself in, clearly with great effort.{{/GM}}

You know what? I can't talk about this right now. "Inferno Souls" is like ancient wisdom. "Master Felon" is pop-sauce.
Don't ruin my laser day!
Indeed. They were some sort of ancient texts, probably sorcerous - and Awakened monsters had invaded the tomb.
WHOA! Are you serious? That's nuts!

{{GM}}Law slaps his thigh for emphasis.{{/GM}}

BOOM! More proof for my theory: the Kong is *done.* I give it two years, tops, before demons or something eat everybody.
Hmmm, let's see what I've got for you...
Grab a program. Here's my surplus stack.

{{GM}}Law grabs a nearby bin and slams it down in front of you.{{/GM}}

Check this shit out!
{{GM}}Take: Sniffer, Level 1.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Take: Decrypt, Level 1.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Take Medic, Level 1.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Take: Killjoy, Level 1.{{/GM}}
I don't need any programs. Have you got some nuyen?
It's a pleasure handling meta with you, $(L.name).

{{GM}}Law beams happily.{{/GM}}

A little meta is like a fresh memory defragment... it makes my whole day better.
I'll bill this as a data expense. Whampoa recognizes the intrinsic value of information.

Information *is* money. BOOM!
Huh? What?

{{GM}}Law waves his finger around his ear, as if to signal, "Are you crazy?"{{/GM}}
All that geomancy feng shui ancient sorceror stuff... it's a bunch of drivel. It's all...

{{GM}}His voice rises in mockery.{{/GM}}

"Oooo, we proactively boosted our quarterly outcomes by mindfully on-lining our beige cushions into a little circle and mooning each other."
Spare me, yo.
Okay, we full-on trashed the Skytower's top floor.
We got blood and gunfire all over their feng shui. How's that for you? The penthouse level is probably still burning.
Hey, feng shui is an ancient and subtle art...
BOOM! That's what I'm talking about! Stone-cold thrashfest!

{{GM}}He breathes a big sigh of relief and exhilaration.{{/GM}}

Why didn't you just tell me that? I guess you just had to build up to it...
Whoa, hey!

{{GM}}He holds up his palm, forcefully.{{/GM}}

I don't want to hear it. I'm done talking about this. Done! Game over!
Maximum Law's insert-your-blather comments box is *closed* for the day!

{{GM}}He folds his arms sullenly.{{/GM}}

Let's talk about something else.
{{GM}}Law nods sagely.{{/GM}}

*Of course.* Those guys are a maze of labyrinths. That's why I like to keep an eye on them.
Damn... that's cold. How'd that go down?
*Someone* stole a prototype from Ares Asia while planting evidence.
Let's just say they're getting the bill but not the goods.
Vicious.

The buzz in network is that they're getting *chewed up* right now over in Yau Tsim Mong. I wonder if Ares is the chewer.
{{GM}}Law scratches his tousled hair.{{/GM}}

Uh... no one's gonna believe that...
What? It's true.
Why not?
I know it sounds crazy...
That's word-for-word the plot of a side quest in the new expansion pack for "Guangzhou Heat: Year of Snake."

Everyone's playing it. Memes like that are flying *everywhere* on the boards right now.
I mean, I believe you $(L.name), 'cause you're legit... but *no one* else will. Here, I'll still hook you up.

I guess reality is as strange as fiction.
It's not that, it's... um...
{{GM}}Law's jaw drops, as if in shock.{{/GM}}

Wh... what?
Do I look like a fucking tabloid?

{{GM}}He stretches his arms wide, in exasperation.{{/GM}}

Come on, $(L.name). You're a stone-cold, steely-eyed killing machine!
I don't need to hear that Hot-Sparkles Hsu got sacked because she stopped banging the Chairman of the Board!
Seriously... tell me something else.
BOOM! That's what I like... Simple. Straightforward. International crime.

They're probably building macro-bioweapons or something.
Whampoa? Screw those clowns.

I'm an independent contractor now. Real clear arrangement: I deal goods for them. They want something? They pay for it... and Law's Technology Palace is an independent territory.

{{GM}}Law kicks a bin of spare parts forcefully, emphasizing his point.{{/GM}}
I'm starting my own tribe... the tribe of BOOM! You got a tech problem? We solve it... BOOM! You got garbage in your head? We tell you how it is. BOOM!

{{GM}}He snorts with bitter satisfaction.{{/GM}}

Whampoans are a bunch of backstabbing losers.

You need anything BOOM right now?
Yeah, we're good... we're a tech tribe. If you don't mess up every so often, you aren't trying... right? If your code never breaks, it's not pushing the limit.

{{GM}}Law snickers.{{/GM}}

Sometimes, things gotta go BOOM!
{{GM}}He purses his lips in thought.{{/GM}}

I've got to pay my dues... but I'll rise in the tribe. It just takes time. No offense, but that's all the tribe business I want to talk. I'm taking this "information hygiene" thing seriously.

Anything else on your mind?
We're pretty much the best, yo. What do you want to know?

{{GM}}Law folds his arms impatiently, as if he's irritated by your request - but he can't quite stifle a proud grin.{{/GM}}
Just tell me about the tribe, generally. Who are you guys?
You seem very outspoken... less modest than many Hongkongers. Is that tribal?
What's a Whampoan doing on Kindly's turf? Are you a liaison?
I understand someone's killing your Elders.
Thanks for telling me about Whampoa.
{{GM}}Law smirks.{{/GM}}

You really are new to the Kong, aren't you? We're the neo-Matrix collective. We run the Hong Kong data haven, and the Kong shadow-nets. We *are* the Kong shadow-nets.
Outside the corporate nets is the rest of the Kong. And in those shadows, you will find threads of golden light like a vast spiderweb that carry information. Those golden threads, and that web, is *Whampoa.*
{{GM}}Law gives a curt, virile nod.{{/GM}}

My buddy R3dSt0rm wrote that. Pretty wicked, huh?
Anyway, we're bleeding-edge on the path to the singularity. We're doing things no one else is doing, anywhere... except maybe Denver or Tokyo.

Our homeland is the Matrix, and we're building a society of *truth* and *expertise* and *information.*
I am more outspoken, yo. I don't need the meatspace rituals. Modesty is *inefficient.*

{{GM}}He shrugs dismissively.{{/GM}}

Is that a Whampoan thing? For those of us who are most *dialed,* maybe. We're post-cultural.
{{GM}}Law sweeps his hand around, gesturing at the surroundings.{{/GM}}

I hardly see any of this meatspace. Our meatspace headquarters is a big 20th century ship that's totally *awesome.*

Whatever. It's just meatspace.
Whampoa is bleeding-edge on the path to becoming the singularity... and in the singularity, there's gonna be *nothing* but straight-up truth.

{{GM}}Law punches his fist down at the ground, striking a majestic pose like a trideo barbarian.{{/GM}}

BOOM! Truth!
What am I doing here?

{{GM}}Law seems shocked at the question.{{/GM}}

I'm an ambassador. I broker Whampoa's services to Heoi. Emissaries like me are all over the Kong, tying it together in an invisible network.
So... you work with Kindly, doing tech for the Yellow Lotus?
Does Whampoa provide any technical services for Hong Kong's poor?
Whampoans are coders and deckers for criminals. Is that right?
I want to ask about something else...
Well... I do some work directly with Kindly, but my focus is more the street level. We're all part of a big machine, each piece playing its critical role.
As is so with any highly evolved machine.
So... you're just a little cog in the big machine, huh?
Sounds like you're entry level.
Exactly.

That's why nobody messes with Whampoa. BOOM!
What? Hey!

{{GM}}Law sputters in irritation.{{/GM}}

I'm an important part of an ascendant entity! If you're ignorant... yo, that's not my problem!
{{GM}}Law shrugs.{{/GM}}

Whatever, I know who I am. You don't need to. More important, I'm Whampoan, and I know what *we* are.
Sure we do.

We run pirate networks. Our services are way more than most ordinary people want, though...

You can get prepaid bandwidth with a corporate carrier for fractions of a nuyen, but you're selling your soul. They *monitor* it.
If you want to operate unmonitored by corporate algorithms, you've got to fly through the Whampoan network. It's the only place to be.
We do tech for anyone in the Kong, outside the corporate umbrellas. Anyone can use our networks, if they pass our vetting and can pay for what we bring.

{{GM}}Law speaks without a shred of irony.{{/GM}}

It's mostly the extralegal element that needs our skill.
Hey, do I look like I'm stopping you?
His face goes grim. A red light blinks on the VR goggles. A lens whirs quietly, focusing in on you.

He grinds his teeth audibly, radiating nervousness and intensity.
Yeah. Shit's crazy. Full-on medieval.
I can't talk about it. It's a tribal matter. Controlled information, right? We're gonna solve it. That's all outsiders need to know.
Actually, I've been contracted to help the Elders stop the murders.
Thanks for you assistance, all the same.
Thanks for nothing.
Wow... really? We're pulling in outsiders?

{{GM}}He shakes his head in disbelief.{{/GM}}

Well, I should've seen that coming.
What the hell are you doing here? Go to the Garden and help stop that shit!

Then come back and tell *me* what's going on. Everybody's guessing. The Elders are being quiet, and the rumor hub is going crazy.
I don't know why you're asking or how you know, but it's Whampoa business... you feel me?

When we find out who's responsible, it's gonna be *nuclear ugly.*

{{GM}}He jabs his finger emphatically down, as if slamming an invisible missile-launch button.{{/GM}}
Hey, what do I look like... a rumor-a-tron? It's my tribe, and shit's going ugly!

{{GM}}He snorts in disgust.{{/GM}}

You here to dis my people, or what? Buy something or buzz off.
Outsiders don't understand us. *Maybe* you can. If you're REALLY smart.

We're in a whole different world than most people. Like, I'm seeing three streaming videos and live network stats in my goggles, right now.
Time's wasting, $(L.name).
{{GM}}Law kicks one of the bins at his feet. The sea of electronic parts within it rattle loudly.{{/GM}}

You gonna buy something?
{{GM}}Law erupts into a torrent of livid, awkward profanity, cursing furiously in some sort of pidgin of Cantonese and tech-speak.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Eventually, he slows down, and his swearing slackens.{{/GM}}

...When Magpie gets back, the shit is going *down.* We're gonna spike those bastards with some much black IC that their brains are gonna turn into pudding. And we're gonna feed that pudding to fucking dogs!
{{GM}}He folds his arms, and almost-comical snarl on his face.{{/GM}}

I'm not surprised the other Elders got themselves killed. Figures. Well, Magpie will know what to do. We'll take care of this.
You don't know who killed the Elders?
You seem fond of Magpie.
You don't show much respect for your Elders.
Let's get to the point: I've got something to tell you about the massacre...
{{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} Sorry, I don't know anything else of use.
We don't! It's bullshit... it's a setup!

The cameras were all shut down. The mall's door logger was shut down. *Everything was shut down.* By... guess who? Elder Ng.
Everybody was at a mandatory all-hands scrum in the Matrix. You know who called it? *Elder Ng.* Was she there? *No.*
We're supposed to know *everything.* We're open source inside the tribe.

Someone chopped up half the circle, then waltzed into the mall and wiped out the rest... then vanished! Thanks, Ng... you villain-chaser idiot.
Magpie is the best of the bunch. She's *brilliant.* She's a wicked coder and a novahot decker, plus she knows the infrastructure.
The others... they were okay. They had skills. Except for Ng. She was all woo-woo and couldn't code or build shit, but she always wanted to get in the middle of things with her blathering.
Those of us in Magpie's bus maintain the shadow-nets. That's what keeps Whampoa independent.

We're the core. Some people can't handle that.
{{GM}}Law shrugs.{{/GM}}

A lot of people are like, "Aaaah, uuuugh, respect your Elders, kiss their servos."

Hey, that's good if you're in the old meat world, but we're *Whampoa.*
We're a self-organizing machine... a neural-network tribe.

Being an Elder is a *job* and *duty,* like being a core processor. Elders organize the work sectors and maintain infrastructure. The Elders aren't gods, they're *routers.*
Whampoa is built around the *network.*

It sucks to lose their skills. The network has suffered a blow.
What? You know something?

{{GM}}Every actuating lens on Law's goggles zooms in on you. A fresh set of status lights begins blinking. One appears to indicate that he is recording.{{/GM}}

You were investigating the killings, right? Word is you were asking around...
First of all, Magpie's dead.
{{GM}}Tell Maximum Law you killed the Elders.{{/GM}}
A ghoul was killing the Elders. He must have finished them off.
I saw some shadowy characters leaving the mall. That's all I've got.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Hard){{/CC}} I saw guys in bulky gear with no markings. Almost like... covered-up riot armor.
What?

{{GM}}Law's visible lower face goes ashen.{{/GM}}
The killer got her first.
Sorry, Law, it's true.
All chopped up and vanished.
Oh... they've *really* got it coming. We will NOT forget.
As you ready yourself to speak, the facts remain clear:
It seems to be a small miracle that the Whampoans haven't identified you.

Whampoa has immense leverage in the shadows, for maintaining the underworld communications infrastructure.
If the Whampoans determine you killed the Elders, they would certainly sanction you, and probably put a bounty on you. If they burned your SIN for Kindly, they might un-burn it.

In the best-case scenario, Kindly would be forced to withdraw her protection. You'd be locked out of a network access, and all face in the Hong Kong shadows.
The worst-case scenario is exponentially worse.
Telling Maximum Law that you killed the Elders would be suicide.
{{GM}}Law seems taken aback. His jaw drops a little bit, and his voice is hushed.{{/GM}}

A ghoul? No way... there was all sorts of fighting in the mall. But I guess the first ones... huh.

What happened? How did it go down?
{{CC}}Intelligence: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Hard){{/CC}} {{GM}}Fabricate a story that fits all the clues and explains the final fight weaponry, but casts your team as helpful innocents.{{/GM}}
{{CC}}Charisma: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Medium){{/CC}} {{GM}}Distract Law with an elaborate, convoluted story that makes you look good.{{/GM}}
It was a mess. I just know the ghoul killed them and got away.
Whoa...

{{GM}}Law seems stunned.{{/GM}}

For real? Man... this is going to go down in tribal lore, $(L.name).
Yeah, well... that's more than anybody else knows.

I hope we can unravel what happened... someday. Thanks for telling us what you know.
Yeah, well... that's about as much as anybody else knows.

I hope we can unravel what happened... someday. Here, I'll hook you up with something...
Huh... really? Well, that's no surprise. It's nothing to go on, but thanks.
Thanks for telling me, even though it wasn't much.

When we find them... they're gonna end up facedown dead on a smoking keyboard, with their brains oozing out their ears like overcooked ramen.

Mark my words.
Riot armor? Figures! The HKPF was around recently... some fishy business in one of the squats. For some reason, we stood off.

They've got the firepower to pull it off... so they scouted us and came back for the Elders... Those gutter-slotted hairy--

{{GM}}Law slams his fist down on a nearby display case.{{/GM}}

Ouch!
{{GM}}He grabs his hand, cradling it.{{/GM}}

That hurts! I, uh... anyway... I'll spread the meta to the tribe. If the HKPF thinks we'll let this slide, they're as stupid as they look.
Here... this is a credstick I keep on hand for when people have special information. Take it, you've earned it.

I kinda want to think, now. And share files.
Yeah, nobody does. Well, if you find something... bring it to me. We'll pay good.
Better yet, we'll give you a front-row seat to the action. When we find them... they're gonna end up facedown dead on a smoking keyboard, with their brains oozing out their ears like overcooked ramen.

Mark my words.
I KNOW!

Those piss-drinking, pigsucking...

{{GM}}Law erupts into a torrent of livid, awkward profanity... some sort of pidgin of Cantonese and tech-speak.{{/GM}}
He catches himself short, pulls himself back together, and clenches his fists.
You know whose fault this is? *Ng.* She always had it in for Magpie, because Magpie was a genius.

That turbo-snorting woo-woo idiot and her lackeys almost *destroyed* the Whampoa network.
{{GM}}He folds his arms across his chest.{{/GM}}

I hope they string the bones of those morons from the gutters with a bunch of monofilament wire from the "Blessed Autofab."
{{GM}}Law pauses, and looks over at you.{{/GM}}

I've heard all the rumors... but what's the full story? What do you know?

We need to port this data out to the whole tribe.
{{GM}}Tell Maximum Law the whole story.{{/GM}}
Before I go on... you seem fond of Magpie.
Sorry... I can't discuss the details.
He listens in prolonged silence as you lay it all out.

When you're done, he shakes himself, as if awaking from a bad dream.
Magpie was the best of the bunch. She was a wicked coder and a novahot decker, plus she knew the infrastructure.
Those of us in Magpie's bus maintain the shadow-nets. That's what keeps Whampoa independent.
Now we've lost Magpie and half the other Elders. All that skill base is gone!

All because *Ng* got a bunch of cruft in her boards.
It was her fault, I'm telling you.
What? That's how it is? Yo, see if I care then. Whatever. Don't come crying to me when you suddenly see the merits of open source.

{{GM}}Maximum Law folds his arms angrily across his chest.{{/GM}}

You gonna buy something, or what?
Yeah, I heard... it's all over our network. So is the fact that you *whacked* him. Good on you.

{{GM}}Law shakes his bulky, goggle-clad head in frustration.{{/GM}}

I can't believe Magpie is gone...
She was the best of the bunch. She was *brilliant.* She decked, she coded, and she knew the infrastructure.

Magpie and the rest of us in her bus maintained the shadow-nets. *We're* the reason Whampoa can even stay independent.
Now Ng is gonna take everything over, I bet. She and all her woo-woo bullshit... she always wanted everybody else to kowtow to her weird-ass preaching, like she speaks for the machines or something.

She can't code or build shit, but she always wanted to run the show.
Well... now that's gonna happen.
Did the Elders give you all the gory details?
Did you know the Elders were involved?
Thanks anyway, $(L.name). What a clusterfuck.
Not as much as you can tell me, I bet.

{{GM}}Every actuating lens on Law's goggles zooms in on you. A fresh set of status lights begins blinking. One appears to indicate that he is recording.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Give Law the full story, but don't incriminate the Elders{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Tell Law the full story - including the evidence against the Elders.{{/GM}}
What? No...
{{GM}}Tell Law the full story.{{/GM}}
Law is dead silent when you finish. His face is ashen, and his usual boyishness seems gone.

He looks almost... old.
$(L.name)...If this true, and it sounds like you've got enough evidence that it probably is...

{{GM}}He momentarily lifts his goggles. His eyes are a deep, soulful brown. Surrounded by premature wrinkles.{{/GM}}

I can't tell anyone about this. If Porter Lam sided with the Elders... that's it.
{{GM}}He pulls his goggles back down.{{/GM}}

I wish I didn't know.
Here, take this... I keep these credsticks around for when people have special information. I'll forge some bullshit on my expense report about what I gave it for.
We can't ever talk about this again.
Assassinate 3.0
A powerful attack program directed at one target for 175 IP DMG.
A venom spray that does -8 HP DMG, plus an additional 4 HP and 1 AP DMG that lasts for 2 RNDS.
Active Defense
Gaichu uses his elite Red Samurai training to temporarily bolster his defense. He gains 2 Armor and 1 Dodge for 2 RNDs.
Active Defense: Armor +2, Dodge +1
Flash
A Zaak special. Adds +2 Movement and +2 AP for 1 RND.
Flash: Movement +2, AP +2
You search Magpie's bathroom. There's not much in here - a toothbrush, toilet paper, some hair pins, and a collection of cheap makeup. The combination bath/shower unit, however, has minor flakes of a dry, reddish substance near the drain.

Blood. Dried blood. Prying open the drain cover, it looks like quite a bit of it was shed, as well.
Shit. Maybe Magpie didn't take a trip after all. With that amount of blood, I'm guessing someone killed her quietly, and then drained her body in the bath. It'd make it cleaner to re-locate.
This doesn't seem to match the killer's other scenes, though.
Clever. That's a careful plan.
I'm thinking there's a lot more going on with these murders than we were initially told. First they don't even mention Magpie to us, and now it looks like she's been killed?

Something's not right here, $(l.name). Let's not mention this to the Elders. If they're hiding anything, they may start cleaning up their tracks better.
The blood hasn't been fully washed away. It looks like there was a cursory attempt to clean out the bath, but they missed washing it all away. It's a clever move, though - if Magpie's dead, a body drained of blood would be a lot easier to move without leaving evidence.
I'm not certain I trust the Elders to tell us the whole story. Let's not inform them of this finding just yet - if any of them know more than they're saying, they may go to ground and cover their tracks with greater dilligence.
Whoa, gross. I'm betting somebody killed Magpie and drained her body in the bath. That way they could move her without risking... ah... spillage.
Yeah, well... Somebody in this little community knows more than they're telling us. We should play this close to our chest, $(l.name). If we don't, whoever's responsible is probably going to go into hiding. Or cover their tracks better. Or both.
I'm gonna lay good money on the fact that Magpie didn't really take a trip. She may have disappeared, though... down that drain. I'd bet someone killed her in here, and drained her blood down the bath. That way the killer could take their time disposing of the body and not risk dropping evidence.
Somebody here is lying to us, I can feel it. Somebody's got to know more than what they're saying.

Let's keep this discovery to ourselves for now. If word gets out that we found this, I'm sure the killer will take extra steps to clean up any other evidence.
It might not be the best idea to reveal this information to the Elders or other Whampoans: the killer might hear about it, and take more care to cover their tracks.
Noxious Breath II
A venom spray that does -10 HP DMG, plus an additional 4 HP and 1 AP DMG that lasts for 2 RNDS.
Cast Pebble
cast damageless bomb
Aztechnology Cyberleg
Basic machine replacement for a leg to restore mobility to amputees.
Fog II
An area effect spell that reduces the chance to target someone by 25%. Lasts for 3 RNDS.
Fog: Accuracy -25%
{{GM}}The security guard stands in front of the patio, a bored expression on his face. He looks you up and down as you approach.{{/GM}}

Private party, pal. Invita--
{{GM}}His eyes land on Gaichû, and his face goes white. He recoils on horror.{{/GM}}

What the hell?! Ghoul! Ghoul in the lounge!
Be silent!

{{GM}}His voice comes out in a rasping hiss.{{/GM}}

Calm yourself. You are going to cause a panic.
{{GM}}The guard stares at you, his mouth agape.{{/GM}}

What the hell do you think you're doing, bringing a ghoul in here?!
{{CC}}Item: Party Invitation{{/CC}} He's not a ghoul, he's an HMHVV-infected person who happens to be a friend of Penelope Wong. And we have an invitation.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(story.global_skillcheck_easy){{/CC}} {{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} Use your head. That isn't a real ghoul! He's an actor in costume.
I think that we're going to that party. And I think that if you don't let us, he's going to bite you.
Oh.

{{GM}}He leans in to inspect Gaichû.{{/GM}}

That makeup is... really good.
{{GM}}He shoots a backward glance at you, then turns back to the guard with a slight bow.{{/GM}}

Thank you. Very much.

Hair & Makeup worked very hard.
Hey, if you don't mind my asking, what show are you working on? I might like to check it out.
It's, uh... it is a pilot. We're shopping it to the networks.

{{GM}}He jerks his thumb in your direction.{{/GM}}

Talk to my agent. $+(l.he) can fill you in on the details.
The guard looks at you expectantly.
It's called "Ghoul School." It's a musical comedy about an international academy for HMHVV-infected youth.
It's called "Chop-Chop Kitchen." It's an ultraviolent cooking show about a cannibal chef who kills, cooks, and eats other chefs.
It's called "ShadowFORCE." It's about a team of shadowrunners who get sent to the future so that they can help fight against alien invaders.
I play the role of Mr. Hondo, the martial arts instructor.
{{GM}}The guard nods excitedly.{{/GM}}

Hey, that sounds really good! You know, a lot of show business-types come around these parts. I'll do what I can to shop it around!

"Ghoul School." It has a great ring to it!
Yes, uh... we are all very proud.
{{GM}}The guard moves aside.{{/GM}}

Well, I've kept you long enough. You head on in to the party!

{{GM}}He extends his hand for Gaichû to shake.{{/GM}}

It was a real pleasure meeting you, sir.
{{GM}}He stares at the guard's hand for a moment before extending his own. They shake.{{/GM}}

Yes. Thank you for your enthusiasm. The pleasure was mine.
{{GM}}As you pass by the guard and into the party, Gobbet whispers at you under her breath.{{/GM}}

That. Was. Amazing.
{{GM}}As you pass by the guard and into the party, Is0bel whispers at you under her breath.{{/GM}}

What. The hell. Was that.

Y'know what, don't answer that. I'm just glad that it worked.
{{GM}}As you pass by the guard and into the party, Duncan whispers at you under his breath. His voice is heavy with amazement.{{/GM}}

I don't know what just happened, $(l.name)... but it was incredible.
But only the uptight ones. I have a code.
{{GM}}The guard nods excitedly.{{/GM}}

Hey, that sounds really good! You know, a lot of show business-types come around these parts. I'll do what I can to shop it around!

"Chop-Chop Kitchen." It has a great ring to it!
The twist is that *we* were the aliens all along.
{{GM}}The guard nods excitedly.{{/GM}}

Hey, that sounds really good! You know, a lot of show business-types come around these parts. I'll do what I can to shop it around!

"ShadowFORCE." It has a great ring to it!
That has been known to happen.

{{GM}}He leans toward the young security guard.{{/GM}}

And don't even think of calling the police. If you raise an alarm, many people will die. And then I will find you.
I won't call the police, I promise! I won't call anybody.

{{GM}}The guard's eyes dart from side to side. A bead of sweat traces its way down his cheek.{{/GM}}

Go on in, be my guest! This job isn't worth getting turned into a monster for.
Thanks for your cooperation.
{{GM}}The security guard stands in front of the patio, a bored expression on his face. He looks you up and down as you approach.{{/GM}}

Private party, pal. Invitation only.
{{CC}}Item: Party Invitation{{/CC}} Here you go.
I'm sure there are at *least* half a dozen people in there without invitations. What's one more?
And what happens if I just walk past you? You really gonna stop me?
Sorry, I left mine in the car. It shouldn't be a problem, though - I'm old friends with Penelope Wong.
Sorry, can't do it. My instructions were clear: no invitation, no entry.
That's when I radio hotel security, and ten of my friends - and whatever HKPD are in the area - come here and *convince* you otherwise.

Don't try it. I'm not in the mood.
I don't care *who* you know. My instructions were clear: no invitation, no entry.

Get your invitation, come back here, and we'll see if you make the cut.
Assassinate 1.0
A powerful attack program directed at one target for 100 IP DMG.
RoboDoc Mk. 2
A medkit on wheels. It's a runner's best friend in the heat of a firefight.
Secure Decker Clothing
Basic clothing for the shadowrunning decker.
Matrix Courier
For those that dress for inside the matrix & out.
{{GM}}An alarmed waiter in a tussled uniform stumbles into the kitchen.{{/GM}}

Chef! We have a problem. A *big* problem.
Cut the drama, cork mage. We're working here.
Not for long.

{{GM}}He glances out the kitchen door.{{/GM}}

Couple of prawns ended up in the ork's dish. Only thing worse than his allergy is his temper, and he's on his way down here!
There's a fight on the outer deck! It's so loud, even the VIP diner heard it.
{{GM}}The chef freezes.{{/GM}}

From up on floor two?

You're shitting me. Who put you up to this?

{{GM}}He furiously slams a wad of dough onto the table.{{/GM}}

You know I *hate* jokes.
No! Chef, I'm serious.

The fight's gotten so out of hand that our VIP's sent his own people to deal with it. Something about... assessing the risk to himself. I don't know. He was so pissed that he threw me out of the room.

Either way, it doesn't look good for us. This could damage the Shangri-La's reputation.
{{GM}}The chef presses flour-covered fingers into his temples.{{/GM}}

Damnit.

We need to get a handle on this. Has security been informed?

{{GM}}He stares at the waiter.{{/GM}}

*Well*?
{{GM}}The frazzled waiter's back stiffens in response.{{/GM}}

Oh! Y-yes, sir! But we're so understaffed today that they're struggling to contain it...
{{GM}}The chef continues to stare at the waiter. After a moment, he sighs.{{/GM}}

If we lose our jobs because of this, I'm moving to Vegas.
We've got a fight out front and a sick diner, and you're still in here glazing dumplings?

Our second floor guest is pissed. His head of security's spewing up prawns and looking for someone to blame. Better brace yourselves for a mouthful of fists.
{{GM}}With a deep breath, the waiter regains his composure.{{/GM}}

Our second floor guest is becoming impatient. Where is his food?
Don't play games with me. I already sent it out! So get up there and serve it before our "special guest" rage shits himself.
Assassinate 2.0
A powerful attack program directed at one target for 150 IP DMG.
FN HAR (Smartlink)
Rifle: An assault rifle used by CorpSec units. Pierces up to 2 Armor, with a Smartlink to improve accuracy.
As she falls into position behind you, Gobbet's jaw drops open.

Raymond Black steps forward, a look of grim determination on his face.
Oh. That... that isn't good.

{{GM}}She shrinks back as Qian Ya turns to face her. Her voice is full of awe and terror.{{/GM}}

That isn't good at *all.*
I did this... I brought this c-creature here.

{{GM}}He speaks in the grim tone of a man on his way to the gallows. His complexion has gone gray as ash.{{/GM}}

My f-fault. My r-responsibility.
{{GM}}The Queen With a Thousand Teeth cackles with glee.{{/GM}}

It has returned to us. The tunnel-builder. The architect of my ascendancy.
...asssssendency...
The creature leans in toward Raymond, its spidery fingers weaving hypnotically. The thing's robes billow like the bell of a jellyfish, pulsing organically with the rhythm of a heartbeat.
You will have a special place in our court, builder.

You will stand by our side, exalted for all time. A living token of our unending rule, and an undying symbol of the folly of man.
I have been a... f-fool, yes.

{{GM}}His hands clench into fists so tight that his knuckles go white. The skin on his face is flushed with the effort of fighting through the stammer jumbling his words.{{/GM}}

A g-great f-fool. But I will... I will not be your s-slave. I will s-stop you.
The Queen with a Thousand Teeth leans forward, her movements full of alien grace. The gaping crescent of her mouth parts into a ghastly smile, and you can see row upon row of fangs.

They run down her throat in overlapping layers, a bristling forest of glistening, sharpened enamel.
Leave him alone. You were talking to me, remember?
I'll kill you before I let you hurt him, monster.
I earned an audience with you, Queen. This man did not.
{{GM}}Attack.{{/GM}} Third time's the charm. Try to stay dead this time.
{{GM}}She steeples her fingers. Their hardened tips click against one another with a sound like grinding teeth.{{/GM}}

You are bold, meat... but you are also correct.

We do not break our promises, and you have earned some modicum of respect.
Qian Ya turns her full attention back to you, and the smile widens.

You can feel it, deep in your gut. It tunnels into you like a lamprey, leaves you feeling empty and cold.
In truth, you amuse us. Your persistence in the face of the inevitable is a pleasure to behold.

And so, we have decided to grant you a rare honor.

We offer you a deal.
Go on, then. I'm listening.
You're just trying to buy yourself time, aren't you? Keeping me talking so that I won't hurt you any more.
I don't want a deal with you, parasite. I want to destroy you.
Our terms are simple.

We want you to leave. Leave the chattel here to their fates. Forget about them. Acknowledge that they are *ours,* and then think on them no more.
{{GM}}She gestures toward the door that you came in from.{{/GM}}

Leave the Walled City now, and do not return. Accept that it is our domain, now and forevermore.

In exchange, we will grant you fourteen years of good fortune. Your every wish fulfilled, your every desire granted. A charmed life, from the moment you leave to the day that our deal elapses.
You can do that?
You can do this?
{{GM}}The Yama King cackles.{{/GM}}

With a wave of our hand.

We have swum the waters of fortune since the beginning of time. It is a trivial matter for us to divert them.
So. Will you accept our offer?

Will you take the deal?
Not yet. I have questions for you first.
No, but I have a counterproposal for you.
The price is too high. I won't let you have this place.
Yes. In exchange for fourteen years of good luck, I'll leave the Walled City to you.
{{GM}}She inclines her head.{{/GM}}

You may ask, but do not try our patience.

To trifle with us would be a terrible mistake.
What do you intend to do with the people of the Walled City if you take over here? You can't be planning to enslave them all.
I'd like to know more about the spirits that serve you.
If you're as powerful as you say you are, why are you offering me this deal?
I've done some research on your kind. There are other Yama Kings, aren't there?
My curiosity is satisfied, Queen.
What any queen would do. We intend to rule them.

Some will be pressed into service within our court. Others will be livestock. Most will live out their lives as if nothing had changed.
Why don't I believe you?
So you're going to keep this place as hellish as it is right now. Good to know.
I've heard enough.
What you believe is not our concern. But know that our word is sacrosanct.

We do not lie, meat. Not ever.
The Yama King's arms weave organically, tracing mesmerizing patterns in the air. They glisten with thin, watery saliva; strands of the fluid crisscross and entangle one another before spattering to the concrete floor.
It is in our interest to leave most of the meat in the Walled City alive and unmolested. They must serve as breeding stock, to better ensure our continuing prosperity.

The population of the Walled City must increase. We will see this happen... we will *make* it happen.
The Walled City will always be a hell of some form or another. The builder's tunnel-machine saw to that.

This site is cursed, now and for all time. Our rule cannot change the unchangeable.
Our servitors are not "spirits," meat. Not in the way that you think.

They are cells of our body. Particles of our own divine being, manifested in flesh to serve us.
You're saying that you and your servants are all parts of the same thing?
So you're all... what? Manifestations, generated by the same organism?
There is no "I." There are no servants.

*We* are all that there is.
{{GM}}She inclines her head.{{/GM}}

Yes.
Because we want to see what you will do.

The ultimate reward dangles above your head. You can pluck it like a peach if you wish.

We are curious to see if you will.
I'm still making my mind up about that.
I don't think that's it at all. I think that I hurt you the last time we fought, and that you're stalling while you regain your strength.
Decide quickly. We are growing tired of answering questions.
That might be true. Do you wish to test your theory, meat?

Or will you accept our generous offer, and enjoy every luxury of life for over a decade to come?

Make your choice, and make it now.
Thousands. Each unique in all the multiverse, each an inimitable form of life.

You are one of many, meat. Interchangeable with others of your kind.

We and our brethren are solitary, sovereign beings. Demigods among beasts of the field.
Then give us your decision.

Be quick about it, meat. This was an amusing diversion, but our patience runs thin.
I've heard your deal, and I have a counterproposal for you.
Duncan's brow furrows. He looks surprised - and uneasy.

His grip tightens on his rifle.
{{GM}}Qian Ya leans in toward you, her face folding open into a hideous smile.{{/GM}}

A counterproposal, you say? How amusing.

Out with it, then, meat. Tell us what you would have of us.
You're going to return to the place that you came from, and you're going to close the door behind you.
{{GM}}Attack her.{{/GM}} I would have you die, monster. Here, I'll get you started on that right now.
{{GM}}She cackles. A long, malicious laugh.{{/GM}}

And tell us, slave thing... why would we do such a thing? What do you have to offer?
Your life. I know how to tear open the tunnel that connects our two worlds.
{{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} If you do it, I'll feed you. I'll bring you fresh slaves... fresh *meat*... as often as you want.
Well, I won't kill you, for one. That sound like a fair enough offer to you?
How about money? I can hook you up.
{{GM}}There is a long pause. A low growl emanates from the Yama King's throat.{{/GM}}

You would destroy yourself, meat. Condemn every living soul in this city to torment unending.
{{GM}}Gobbet raises an eyebrow.{{/GM}}

Umm... $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)...
{{GM}}The Queen With a Thousand Teeth tilts her eyeless head, glowering at you. Her voice goes low and dangerous.{{/GM}}

Your ultimatum is meaningless, meat. Opening the tunnel would not destroy us. It wouldn't even *hurt* us.

You will take our offer, or you will *die.* There is no other choice.
I know that opening the tunnel wouldn't hurt you, Queen. But I also know that it would let the other Yama Kings through.
The hell with it. We're killing this thing.
All right, Qian Ya. You win. I accept your terms.
The Yama King doesn't respond - not audibly. But the miasma that fills the air seems to thicken. It grabs you by the guts and twists.
You've been keeping them out, haven't you? They're scratching at the door, but you're holding it shut so that you can take this city for yourself.
{{GM}}Is0bel grinds her teeth - it's got her, too. Her eyes flash daggers at you.{{/GM}}

Why the hell would we want to do *that?*
Because she's been keeping them out. She wants the Walled City for herself.
She isn't lying - we can't kill her. But I'm betting the other Yama Kings can.
AND WE WILL *HAVE IT.*

{{GM}}Qian Ya's voice raises to a shivering roar.{{/GM}}

THIS PLACE IS *OURS.* LEAVE NOW, OR BE DESTROYED.
If it were that easy, you'd have done it already.
Qian Ya stands statue-still, looming over you like a colossus. Saliva drools down from the ridges and folds of her body.

The waves of hate rolling off of her are almost palpable.
I've heard what you Yama Kings do to each other when you're angry. The story of the Nameless King. I'm betting that there's some truth to it.
I've already given you my ultimatum, Queen. Leave now, or I'll open the tunnel.
{{GM}}A low rumbling sound emanates from Qian Ya's chest. Her melodious voice goes sour.{{/GM}}

You would be condemning yourself to an eternity of torment. My brethren would not permit you to leave this place alive.
You're going to destroy me anyway, right? So what do I have to lose?
$+(l.he)'s right. From our perspective, there isn't much difference between one demon-god ruling the Walled City and a hundred.

The place is doomed either way.
I believe that I have... m-made a decision. If $(l.he) doesn't go through with this... *I* will.

{{GM}}There's steel in his voice. The kind that you haven't heard since the old days, before prison, before you left home.{{/GM}}
Go back where you c-c-ame from, creature.

Do this, or I will open ch-choke on the m-machine... and you can die with us.
There is a long pause. Qian Ya cocks her head, coldly evaluating you.

A low rumble escapes from her throat.
...And what of our court? The slave-things that have already been taken into our service?

We must be allowed to keep them. If we are to retreat into the tunnel, they must come as well.
You are entitled to *nothing.* By asking, you've already conceded defeat. I know your laws, Queen, and I will hold you to them.
The crazies that we fought getting here? Deal. Take them and go.
No. No way. You withdraw yourself from their minds and leave them in peace.
A low rumbling fills the chamber. Qian Ya's hideous face contorts into a mask of rage, but she seems incapable of moving to harm you.

The servitor creatures that surround her kneel in acquiescence. They look confused - and frightened.
How... do you know...

{{GM}}The music in her voice has gone flat. You watch the muscles of her throat bulge, but the sound barely escapes her.{{/GM}}
The journals of a woman who studied your kind. You drove her mad in the end.
You'll spend the rest of eternity wondering.
Oh, I just guessed. I'm clever that way.
{{GM}}Slowly, gratingly, the Queen With a Thousand Teeth bows her head. Her jaw is clenched, and her breath comes in ragged gasps.{{/GM}}

...We... shall go. Back into the tunnel... as agreed. We will leave the slave-things behind... we are *bound* to obey.
Holy shit, $(l.firstname). It worked.
Moving against her will, Qian Ya traces an ornate sigil into the air. It hangs there for a moment, shimmering.

Then the sky tears open.
Holy shit, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). It worked.
Holy shit, $(l.name). It worked.
I c-can't believe it. It w-w-worked.
*We* will decide when the deal is done, meat.

You will not dictate terms to us.
The Queen With a Thousand Teeth clasps hands and slowly rubs them together, as if in anticipation of a meal. Saliva runs down her body in rivulets, spattering to the ground and pooling there.

With a stuttering, jerking motion she shifts position to face you.
We have one other demand. A small trifle.

Grant us what we ask and we will depart peacefully, never to return. Refuse me, and there will be blood.
Tell me what you want.
{{GM}}Attack.{{/GM}} The hell with all of this. I'm gonna finish what I started, and I'm gonna do it right now.
{{GM}}She points at Raymond with an enamel-jacketed finger.{{/GM}}

Him. The builder of the tunnel. The man who brought us here.

We will take him with us as well. A memento of our journey, and a feast for the long trip home. One we will savor.
No. No way. You can't have him.
That's his decision to make. He isn't mine to give.
We can, and we will.

You will surrender him to us, or there will be no agreement. There will be no *peace.*
{{GM}}Duncan shoots you a worried glance.{{/GM}}

$(l.firstname)...
{{GM}}Raymond straightens. Looks the Yama King in the face.{{/GM}}

I will g-go with you... if th-that is what it will t-take.
You don't have to do this, Raymond.
No. I'm not letting you do this. We'll fight her if we have to.
If you were looking for repentance, I think that you just earned it.
My name is Edward... and yes.

{{GM}}He peers at you through clear, cold eyes.{{/GM}}

Yes, I do.
{{GM}}Let him go.{{/GM}} You're doing a great thing. Know that.
You've already t-tried that... where did it get you?

You have a t-trump card. You can fix my mistake... this is my small c-contribution.
$(l.firstname)... thank you for c-coming to Hong Kong... for helping me to see this through. You have always been... like a daughter to me... regardless of our d-difficulties.

{{GM}}He looks you in the eye. You can see the tears welling there.{{/GM}}

And for what it's worth... I'm sorry.
$(l.firstname)... thank you for c-coming to Hong Kong... for helping me to see this through. You have always been... like a son to me... regardless of our d-difficulties.

{{GM}}He looks you in the eye. You can see the tears welling there.{{/GM}}

And for what it's worth... I'm sorry.
Well, for what it's worth, I forgive you.
You don't have anything to be sorry about. Not any more.
I don't think sorry's gonna cover this, Raymond.
{{GM}}The Queen With a Thousand Teeth clasps two sets of hands to her breast and spreads the third. When she speaks, her musical voice has turned ugly.{{/GM}}

The terms of your deal are accepted, meat.

We will withdraw to the tunnel with our servants.
Qian Ya's body seems to collapse in on itself. She crumples, lifeless, to the floor. A discarded vessel of meat and bone.

A stab of pain lances your eyes, blacking out your vision. When your eyesight returns, Raymond Black - your foster father - is gone.
There *is* no withdrawal, meat. They are *changed.* They are *ours* now, to serve us and feed us for all time.

They come with us, or we call your bluff. These are *our* terms.
If they really are damaged beyond repair, go ahead and take them.
In that case, I guess the deal's off. We're going to have to kill you the old fashioned way.
So I've made a decision. If $(l.he) *doesn't* go through with this, *I* will.

You need to go back where you came from, or I'll open the choke on the machine and you can die with us.
So I've made a decision. If $(l.he) *doesn't* go through with this, *I* will.

You need to go back where you came from, or I'll open the choke on the machine and you can perish with us. I look forward to laying open as many of your kind as I can before I die.
$+(l.he)'s right. From our p-perspective... there isn't much difference between one d-demon-god ruling the Walled City... and a hundred.

The place is doomed either way.
So I have... m-made a decision. If $(l.he) *doesn't* go through with this... *I* will.

You need to go back where you c-came from or I will...l open the choke on the machine... and you can d-die with us.
You cannot do this, $(l.name). I w-w-won't allow it.

If you try... I will s-stop you.
Qian Ya rears back, fangs bristling from alien flesh.

Apparently, she's heard enough.
The time for bargaining is *over,* slave-thing.

{{GM}}Her robes shimmer again, and the claws come out. Once again, her voice grows to a deafening roar.{{/GM}}

WE WILL SUCKLE YOUR SORROW UNTIL THE SUN TURNS TO DUST.
{{GM}}Duncan winces - it's got him, too. His eyes flash daggers at you.{{/GM}}

Why the hell would we want to do*that?*
{{GM}}Gobbet grinds her teeth - it's got her, too. Her eyes flash daggers at you.{{/GM}}

Why the hell would we want to do*that?*
*This* is your offer? This is what you bring to us?!

Tell us, meat. Why would we retreat from this world and live off of what scraps that you bring us when we could remain here and claim whatever we desire for ourselves?
Because this is the best offer you're gonna get. Take it, or I'll burn you down.
I guess that you wouldn't. Y'know what, forget the counterproposal - I'm ready to give you my decision on your offer.
It threatens us.

{{GM}}Her voice is mocking and sad.{{/GM}}

This meat does not learn.
Make it quickly. Our patience runs thin.
The meat threatens us. We are not impressed, or amused.

It is time that you learned a lesson, slave-thing. We will teach you the price of impertinence.
{{GM}}The air fills with cackling laughter.{{/GM}}

*This* is your offer? This is what you bring to us?
{{GM}}Racter shoots a backward glance at you.{{/GM}}

I must admit, I was expecting something rather... cleverer than that, my friend. Did you expect it to work?
Well, it could have...
Sure! Everybody loves money!
Not really. Just wanted to see what she'd say.
This has been an amusing diversion, but we tire of it. So you will give us your answer now, meat - no further delays.

Will you accept our generous offer?
{{GM}}Gaichu cocks his head.{{/GM}}

I must admit, I was expecting something a little... better... than that. Did you expect it to work?
{{GM}}Gobbet's jaw drops open.{{/GM}}

Seriously, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname)? *Money?* You expected that to work?!
{{GM}}Duncan grinds his teeth.{{/GM}}

Seriously, $(l.firstname)? *Money?* You expected that to work?!
{{GM}}Is0bel's eyes narrow.{{/GM}}

Seriously, $(l.name)? *Money?* You expected that to work?!
I... do not think... that she is... i-interested.
Is0bel's brow furrows. She looks surprised - and uneasy.

Her grip on her mini-launcher tightens.
Gobbet's brow furrows. She looks surprised - and uneasy.

She crouches slightly, dropping into a ready stance.
Racter raises an eyebrow. He looks intrigued.
You cannot do this, $(l.firstname). You c-cannot trust it!
The builder disapproves. Amusing.

He is responsible for all of the suffering that you have seen. This place would not exist at all, were it not for him.

And yet, he means something to you. You would not have followed him here if he did not.
He's like a father to me. That will never change, regardless of what he did in the past.
Honestly, I'm over the old man. I came here to help the people that his incompetence screwed over.
I'm only here to help myself. Raymond - or Edward, or whatever his name is - can go to hell as far as I'm concerned.
If he is important to you, we will grant you a boon. A special reward for your willingness to listen to reason.

We will abandon our claim to the builder. We will not take him as a meal or a slave.

Instead, you will grant him a merciful death, here and now. Release him from his pain.
Hold still, Ray. This'll be over quick.
I suppose that a merciful death is better than an eternity of enslavement.
No. That isn't gonna happen. You can keep your fourteen years of luck - I'm sending you back where you came from.
{{GM}}Duncan shoulders his rifle.{{/GM}}

No fucking way, $(l.firstname). You aren't doing this. I won't let you kill Raymond, and I sure as shit won't let you give a hundred thousand people... people like *us*... to this monster.
I'm with Duncan on this. To hell with your good luck - I won't let you make life here even worse than it already is.

I'll fight you if I have to.
Me, too, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). I've been with Izz for too long to let her try to stop you on her own.

Besides, this is fucking stupid. If you can't see that, you deserve a bullet in the head.
You know what we offer. How little you have to do to achieve it. Kill the builder and walk away, and your reward will be legendary. Fate herself will smile upon you.

Spurn our offer, and you will suffer in ways that defy mortal comprehension.

Choose.
{{GM}}Accept the deal.{{/GM}} I accept your terms, Queen. I will do what you ask.
{{GM}}Refuse.{{/GM}} I've reconsidered, Queen - the deal is off.
{{GM}}Attack Qian Ya.{{/GM}} I respond poorly to ultimatums.
Like hell you will.

{{GM}}His finger tightens on the trigger, and all hell breaks loose.{{/GM}}
No. You won't. I won't let you.

{{GM}}Her finger tightens on the trigger, and all hell breaks loose.{{/GM}}
Like hell you will.

{{GM}}Her finger tightens on the trigger, and all hell breaks loose.{{/GM}}
As you move to attack, Qian Ya raises herself to her full height. Two sets of fang-encrusted arms scissor open, sending ropes of thick saliva flying.
YOU DARE REJECT OUR OFFER, MEAT?

{{GM}}The Yama King's screech is like needles in your spine.{{/GM}}

WE WILL SUCKLE YOUR SORROW UNTIL THE SUN TURNS TO DUST!
This is fucking stupid. If you can't see that, you deserve a bullet in the head.

I don't wanna shoot you, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). I really, really don't.
{{GM}}Is0bel raises her slivergun.{{/GM}}

No way, $(l.name). You aren't doing this. I won't let you make life here even worse than it already is. I'll shoot you if I have to.
I'm with Izz, $(story.Global_Gobbet_Nickname). This is fucking stupid, and if you can't see that, you deserve a bullet in the head.

I don't wanna shoot you. Please don't force me to.
You do not need time, mortal. You already know what we offer.

How little you have to do to achieve it.
Kill the builder and walk away, and your reward will be legendary. Fate herself will smile upon you.

Spurn our offer, and you will suffer in ways that defy mortal comprehension.

Choose.
You can see the pain glittering in his eyes, but the old man says nothing.

He shifts his gaze to the ground.
In that case, we will grant you a boon. A special reward for your willingness to listen to reason.

We will abandon our claim to the builder. We will not take him as a meal or a slave.

Instead, you will kill him, here and now. Release him from his pain.
A pity. A shame. You could have had everything that your heart had ever desired.

{{GM}}She clucks her tongue at you. A hollow, resonant sound.{{/GM}}

Instead, you will suffer as no living being has ever suffered before.
{{GM}}Her robes shimmer again, and the claws come out. Once again, her voice grows to a deafening roar.{{/GM}}

WE WILL SUCKLE YOUR SORROW UNTIL THE SUN TURNS TO DUST.
{{GM}}The cackling laugh returns, raising the hair on the back of your neck and sending a shiver down your spine.{{/GM}}

Oh, the noises it makes. You are impotent to harm us, meat. Surely that is clear by now.
{{GM}}The cackling laugh returns, raising the hair on the back of your neck and sending a shiver down your spine.{{/GM}}

What you want is immaterial. You are impotent to harm us, meat. Surely that is clear by now?
We offer you a choice. Hear out our deal, or be destroyed.

Make your decision, and do it quickly. Our patience runs thin.
All right. Give me your pitch.
{{GM}}Attack her.{{/GM}} You say that you can't be killed. Let's put that to the test.
{{GM}}She steeples her fingers. Their hardened tips click against one another with a sound like grinding teeth.{{/GM}}

You are bold, meat. Impertinent and foolish, but bold.

You have earned some modicum of respect, but do not push your luck. Watch your tone, or you will watch him die.
As he falls into position behind you, Duncan's jaw drops open.

Raymond Black steps forward, an expression of grim determination on his face.
Oh shit. She's real.

{{GM}}He does his best to stand his ground as Qian Ya turns to face him. His voice is full of awe and terror..{{/GM}}
As she falls into position behind you, Is0bel's jaw drops open.

Raymond Black steps forward, an expression of grim determination on his face.
That's her. She's real.

{{GM}}She shrinks back as Qian Ya turns to face her. Her voice is full of awe and terror.{{/GM}}
As he falls into position behind you, Gaichu raises his blade high. His milky eyes are locked on Qian Ya, and there's a look of grim satisfaction on his face.

Raymond Black steps forward, an expression of grim determination on his face.
The Yama King still lives.

{{GM}}He smiles through a mouthful of strong, sharp teeth.{{/GM}}

Good.
As he falls into position behind you, Racter's jaw drops open.

Raymond Black steps forward, an expression of grim determination on his face.
Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

{{GM}}He stares up at the Yama King, a rapt expression on his face.{{/GM}}
Raymond Black steps forward, an expression of grim determination on his face.

The triad 49ers that Kindly sent to escort him are nowhere to be seen.
Smuggler Den's Code
A door with red graffiti nearby. Code: 5465.
This room is secured by a small keypad.
4990
A venom spray that does -14 HP DMG and does ongoing -1 AP DMG that lasts for 2 RNDS.
Kindly's place reeks of stale cigar smoke and fresh urine. The clicking of mahjong tiles is strangely absent - in its place is a low murmur of laughter, and an air of eager anticipation. All eyes are focused on the groaning figure kneeling bloody and bound at the feet of Kindly Cheng.
She beckons to him with her finger and he struggles towards her, the loud rustling of the plastic tarp crackling under his knees as he moves. His pants are wet with fear.

An acetylene torch lies on the table at Cheng's right hand.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng ignores the scene. She behaves as if all is right in the world.{{/GM}}

How did you sleep, my little ones?
Like a baby, Auntie. I'm still in the afterglow of our tour of the Walled City.
Not too well, Auntie Cheng. I had a bad dream.
Fine thanks. What's with the guy on the floor?
{{GM}}The triad boss's eyes turn to half moons of amusement.{{/GM}}

Afterglow? Really.

{{GM}}She nods her head back towards the pillar of meat standing behind her.{{/GM}}

Then you should be delighted to say hello to your old friend, Strangler Bao. He's here because of you.
Decided that living around ghosts was hazardous to your health, Bao?
How very pleasant to see you again, Mr. Bao.
What's up, Beef?
{{GM}}Ignore him.{{/GM}}
Bao inclines his head. One quarter of an inch.
Strangler Bao's eyes widen until they're more white than color. There's raw hatred written there.
{{GM}}Cheng's demeanor changes in a heartbeat. Her amused expression drops like acid rain.{{/GM}}

*Mr. Bao* is an honored member of the Yellow Lotus, whereas you are an outsider.
{{GM}}Her head pushes forward on her neck.{{/GM}}

A disposable outsider.
Bao doesn't move. Says nothing. But out of the corner of your eye, you can see him eyeballing you.
Well then, now that the niceties are over, let's get to the nasties.
{{GM}}You register a brief hesitation before she responds.{{/GM}}

You poor darling. Perhaps it's the food here. I understand it can be a bit too spicy for outsiders.
Still, a bad dream is better way to spend the night than getting a bullet in the ear while you sleep.

{{GM}}She flicks a mahjong tile at the kneeling man's head.{{/GM}}

Wouldn't you agree, shitbird?
{{GM}}She indicates the kneeling man with an incline of her nose.{{/GM}}

Shitbird here is a plain clothes cop. He snuck into the area last night while you were sleeping, hoping to find you and kill you before his competition got to you first.

My men found him outside the trawler you were sleeping on. They saw to it that your rest was undisturbed and that your location remained a mystery.
{{GM}}She nods her head back towards the pillar of meat standing behind her.{{/GM}}

You can thank Mr. Bao for that.
{{GM}}Nod at Strangler Bao.{{/GM}}
Thank you for guaranteeing our safety, Mr. Bao.
So you're the night watchman now, buddy? Thanks.
Bao doesn't move but his jaw tightens and nostrils flare.
{{GM}}Cheng's stiff eyebrows go up a little.{{/GM}}

That's better.
The muscles in Strangler Bao's thick neck ripple and his eyes go "I will kill you" wide. He takes a half step forward before regaining control of himself.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng makes direct eye contact with you. Holds it tight.{{/GM}}

Mr. Bao will be treated with respect.

I will not warn you again.
{{GM}}She addresses the bloody man on his knees again.{{/GM}}

Forgive the interruption.
Strangler Bao's eyes widen until they're more white than color. They glisten with raw hatred.
Kindly Chen slowly surveys the room. Makes eye contact with every triad soldier, one by one.
{{GM}}She addresses the bloody man on his knees.{{/GM}}

Now shitbird, tell my friends here what you told me.
I.. I don’t know anything, I swear! We just got the orders in last night.

{{GM}}He pushes his head toward you and Wu from the floor, struggling to keep his balance.{{/GM}}

Somebody high up wants these two dead. The whole department is on it. I don’t know anything else.
Someone from high up?

{{GM}}The old woman lifts her foot. Taps his chin with the toe of her shoe.{{/GM}}

How high?
The cop looks up at her. Looks around at the room filled with triad soldiers. One of them opens his coat and shows the cop something inside. He closes it slowly and winks.
{{GM}}The cop drops his head to his chest.{{/GM}}

All the way. All the way up.

It's someone on the Council.
Someone on the Executive Council wants *these two* dead?

{{GM}}Cheng spits on him with a sneer.{{/GM}}

Fuck your ancestors to the eighteenth generation. Give me the truth!
{{GM}}The cop wears the spittle. He never lifts his head.{{/GM}}

It's the truth, madam! I swear it!

Whoever it was labeled them as terrorists - we're to terminate with extreme prejudice.
Kindly Cheng shuffles closer to the kneeling cop, reaches down and strokes his head with her hand.

Then she slowly digs her fingers into scalp. She pulls back hard until his chin points high.

The triad boss leans in close and searches his eyes with her own.
That's all he's got.

{{GM}}She lets go of his head and smooths his buzzed cut hair with her hand.{{/GM}}

For whatever reason, last night someone on the Executive Council of the Free Enterprise Zone ordered the Hong Kong Police Force to kill two nobodies from Seattle.

I find that fascinating. Don't you?
Not really. Corporations can just order the cops to kill people here?
Yes, but why the need to label us international terrorists?
I call that some messed up shit.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng smiles knowingly.{{/GM}}

Corruption is so ingrained in our society that we don't even see it as corruption.
If a street vendor can get out of a sanitary citation by "buying a cop a cup of tea" for five nuyen, imagine what a megacorp can do.
{{GM}}She strokes the policeman's cheek with the back of her hand. Her rusty voice becomes sweet as she explains the ways of the world.{{/GM}}

Propriety, my darling. When the government has someone gunned down, they prefer to make it appear justified. The people feel safer when their murders feel like part of civilization.
My my, but you have definitely fallen into the deep end of the pool.
Seattle isn't like Hong Kong. There, the megacorps control the government.

Here, the corps *are* the government.
The Exec Council is chosen by the Corporate Board of Governors. They're basically the legislative and executive branches of the Hong Kong Government in one tiny package.

Eight people call all the shots. Neat and efficient.
{{GM}}Kindly Cheng steps back from the cop and lights one of her thin black cigars.{{/GM}}

For the wage slaves and the civilian sheep, the corporations are a pantheon of gods who wield absolute power.

{{GM}}She looks around the room.{{/GM}}

But not for us.
{{GM}}The triad woman takes a long pull from her cigar and taps her ash on the kneeling cop's head.{{/GM}}

Who else knows about my guests' visit to Heoi, Shitbird?
No one, Madam! I hadn't called it in yet - I wanted the kill for myself!

No one knows they're here. I swear it!
{{GM}}She turns to her enforcer.{{/GM}}

Mr. Bao?
{{GM}}Bao fiddles with the PDA in his meaty hands.{{/GM}}

He's telling the truth. No outgoing calls on his PDA.
Very good. Thank you, Bao.

{{GM}}She nods at the cop.{{/GM}}

Thank you for your honesty.
In one smooth motion, Strangler Bao produces a silenced pistol, fires it once into the policeman's head, and replaces it in his jacket. His face never changes expression.
Looks like the triads can be just as efficient.
I was wondering what we were going to do with him.
What the hell? That was a cop!
{{GM}}Cheng takes a drag on her cigar.{{/GM}}

Mmm. Yes, my darling.
{{GM}}Cheng takes a drag on her cigar. Indicates the body.{{/GM}}

He knew, my darling. He knew.
{{GM}}Cheng takes a drag on her cigar.{{/GM}}

I know my darling. Now, he's a silent cop.
{{GM}}She balances her cigar on her shot glass, picks up some mahjong tiles and begins playing with them absently.{{/GM}}

It is clear our friend Raymond Black was up to something involving the Walled City. Something having to do with "prosperity."
And this Executive Council member wanted Raymond dead for it.

{{GM}}She stacks her tiles one by one. Click-clack.{{/GM}}
Now they want you dead for it, too.

{{GM}}Click.{{/GM}}

This Plastic-Faced Man may show up on your door one day, too.
{{GM}}She knocks the pile over and it clatters to the table loudly.{{/GM}}

I have a proposal for you, my sweets.

{{GM}}A smile lights up her dead black eyes.{{/GM}}

Work for me.
With Nightjar and Gutshot dead, I find myself with two job openings.

Fill them.

I have need of deniable assets here - players unaffiliated with the triads who can take care of some of the more… unsavory business needs about town. You've proven yourselves resourceful, and you have no existing connections here. That can be a positive in this line of work.
See Duncan? I knew it. She wants us to become shadowrunners.
Shadowrunners, huh? What a surprise.
This line of work sounds dangerous.
Shadowrunners.
Yep. You saw that coming.
Yeah, you called it, $(l.firstname).
Wu grunts. His jaw tightens but he stays quiet.
In exchange, I will keep you safe from pests like this one.

{{GM}}She nods at the body of the floor. The pool of blood on the plastic wrap continues to widen.{{/GM}}

You’ll have safe harbor here in my town and a steady source of income.
{{GM}}She picks up a handful of tiles again.{{/GM}}

And while you dip your toe into the waters of corporate espionage, organized crime, and clandestine mercenary actions, I will employ my network to find the Plastic-Faced Man and gather information about Raymond Black.

Where he's been. Who he's talked to. Who stood to gain from his death. What this "prosperity" could be.
What's in it for you?
You're putting out a lot of effort to help a pair of foreigners.
Besides the money and the benefits of helping others in my community?

I need to learn who killed one of my clients and then ordered the cops to execute my team of shadowrunners.

{{GM}}Her voice drops and she becomes deadly serious.{{/GM}}

This is a brazen disregard of my power. Face dictates it must be confronted, or I stand to lose everything.
How would the arrangement work?
We're Westerners. Isn't that a liability in this business?
We need to find out who killed Raymond and why.
I find the right jobs for people with your... talents. You do what our clients cannot do for themselves.

I take a finder's fee and a small percentage of your earnings. You make a lot of nuyen very quickly.

It's all very civilized.
On no. On the contrary. There's an good market for out of town talent that's just waiting to be exploited.

Plus, you're unknown. A surprise, if you will.
And we shall, my sweet.
{{GM}}She leans in.{{/GM}}

Work with me. Allow me to help you make money. Let my network work for you *and* help you find out what you’ve gotten yourselves into.

Without my help you won’t last a day out there. You are completely out of your depth, I’m afraid.
You need a partner. Kindly Cheng will be your partner.
{{GM}}Wu's hands go to his hips. He drops his head and shakes it a little, confused.{{/GM}}

I gotta wrap my brain around this, $(l.firstname). Things are moving fast. There's a lot to process.
Think about it, Duncan. This gives us freedom to find out what happened to Ray.
You had to see this coming, Duncan. I did.
C'mon Wu - you and me - on the streets together again.
I know. I get it. I just gotta reconcile this whole...
He grips the back of his neck. Squeezes hard. Rips his hand away.
Ah, fuck it.

I'm not a cop anymore. That guy's dead.

{{GM}}He nods. The decision's made.{{/GM}}

I'm in. What about you?
{{GM}}Wu's hands go to his hips. He drops his head and shakes it a little, amused.{{/GM}}

It was just like you said, $(l.firstname).

Shadowrunners.

Glad I had some time to think about it. Process.
I'm in, too. I didn't have anything back home anyway.
There's good money in the shadows. It's about time I cashed in.
I'm in until I can clear my name and get the hell out of Hong Kong.
I'm gonna find out who killed Raymond. Someone's gonna pay.
I think Ray's still alive, too. Let's run the shadows and figure out what happened to him.
{{GM}}He looks at you and lets out a chuckle.{{/GM}}

Yeah, you might wanna ask yourself why some day.
Okay I'm in, but this is a temporary situation for me.
{{GM}}He nods, grimacing a little.{{/GM}}

All about the nuyen, huh? Not surprised.

That's cool but it's not where my head is at. Not at all.
If I thought that Raymond was dead, I'd agree with you. But he's not.
Raymond is alive. I'm sure of it.

So I'll run the shadows as long as Auntie Cheng keeps up her end of the bargain and helps us figure out what really happened to him.

Then I'm gonna find my father.
Then it's done. Heoi is now open to you.

{{GM}}She gestures to her lieutenant, who raises a finger to her ear and whispers into her sleeve.{{/GM}}

First order of business - $(l.fullname) and Duncan Wu don't exist anymore. You'll need street names.
{{GM}}Wu sighs.{{/GM}}

Yeah, okay. I'll think of something.
{{GM}}Gobbet rubs her cheek against her rat's, a glint in her eye.{{/GM}}

I think we've already got you covered, Gun Show.

{{GM}}She turns to Is0bel.{{/GM}}

Fits, doesn't it?
Indeed.
I *knew* that was gonna stick.
It has stuck.

Gobbet, Is0bel, we'll handle this the same way we did with...all your previous work.

{{GM}}She didn't say Nightjar.{{/GM}}
All the jobs I line up for you will be sent to your computer on the squat-boat.

{{GM}}She's pointing at you.{{/GM}}
I got it.
My computer? I'm not the leader type.
Why me?
Why $(l.him)?
You are now. By process of elimination.
It's a simple process of elimination.
{{GM}}She points to the little decker.{{/GM}}

Is0bel isn't the leader type.
You got that right.
{{GM}}She moves her finger to the ork-girl.{{/GM}}

As for Gobbet... let's just say Gobbet doesn't have a head for business.
Not my thing.
{{GM}}Then she rests her finger on Wu.{{/GM}}

And then there's Gun Show...

{{GM}}She wiggles it.{{/GM}}

The jury's out on Mr. Gun Show.
Meaning?
{{GM}}Her response is direct. Straightforward.{{/GM}}

Meaning there's a lot going on with in that head of yours right now and I'm not sure I can trust you.
So I'm in charge because I'm the best of the worst?
Gun Show will be fine. Trust me.
Jury's out with me too, Duncan. You're a raw nerve and I'm gonna have to keep my eye on you.
Oh my sweet, don't put it that way.

{{GM}}She opens her arms.{{/GM}}

You're the most equipped for the role.
She's making sense. You're the right person for this, $(l.firstname).
Okay then. Guess I'm running the show.
I had a handle back in the Barrens. $(s.name). Guess it's time I dusted it off.
$(s.fullname) doesn't exist anymore. Call me $(s.name).
{{GM}}Wu shakes his head, eyebrows raised.{{/GM}}

Gonna be weird calling you $(l.name) again. Haven't called you that since we were kids.
{{GM}}Gobbet looks from Is0bel to Wu to you.{{/GM}}

I guess this is our new crew.

{{GM}}The rat on her shoulder scurries to the top of her head for a better view.{{/GM}}

Welcome to the shadows, $(l.name).
Kindly Cheng makes eye contact with you and holds it. She keeps it steady for a long time.
{{GM}}Wu doesn't notice.{{/GM}}

Don't worry. I'll be cool, $(l.firstname).
Kindly Cheng makes eye contact with you and holds it. She keeps it steady for a long time. Wu doesn't notice.
I get it. Feels like I've been on tilt since I arrived in this country.

{{GM}}He looks at you.{{/GM}}

Follow your lead, $(l.firstname)?
Then it's done. Heoi is now open to you.

{{GM}}She gestures to her lieutenant, who raises a finger to her ear and whispers into her sleeve.{{/GM}}

First order of business. $(l.name) here has already chosen a street name.

{{GM}}She turns her attention to Wu.{{/GM}}

But Duncan Wu don't exist anymore. You'll need one too.
Not foreigners, my sweet. Valued business associates!

I need to learn who killed one of my clients and then ordered the cops to execute my team of shadowrunners.

{{GM}}Her voice drops and she becomes deadly serious.{{/GM}}

This is a brazen disregard of my power. Face dictates it must be confronted, or I stand to lose everything.
{{GM}}Kindly regards you coldly, and lifts one hand in a dismissive wave.{{/GM}}

As much as I love your company, I have business to attend to. Clear the hell out of here and go get settled in.
This door appears to be made of hollow-core pine - a rarity in modern-day Hong Kong. It wouldn't take much effort to knock it off its hinges.
An alarm system has been linked into the doorway, but the building alarms are already blaring.

Kicking the door down now won't make much of a difference.
{{GM}}Break it down.{{/GM}}
Welcome back. You forget something, or did you just love my charming company?
{{GM}}This tall, well-build human has been watching you since the moment you entered Club 88. Surreptitiously, of course - glances over his shoulder and the like - but you're certain he's been watching you. He finally speaks as you draw near.{{/GM}}

I hear you're the one to talk to about work in the shadows.
Yeah, that's right.
Maybe, maybe not. What's it to you?
I've got no idea what you're talking about.
{{GM}}He nods in satisfaction, expression relaxing a bit.{{/GM}}

Good. Because I'm looking for work here in Hong Kong, but I don't have my own team.
Call me El Ducé. I'm a street samurai - good with shotguns, close combat, and I've got a bit of medical know-how on top of that.

My rates are reasonable, unless it's a run against Shiawase. In that case, it's completely free.
{{GM}}He shrugs and folds his arms across his chest.{{/GM}}

I'm looking for work here in Hong Kong, but I don't have my own team. I asked around who the players are here in Heoi. They said to talk to you.
Sure, and I've never committed a crime in my life, either.

I'm looking for work here in Hong Kong, but I don't have my own team. I asked around who the players are here in Heoi. They said to talk to you.
{{GM}}Ducé raises a hand to you as you approach.{{/GM}}

Hey, $(l.name). Any chance we'll get any jobs running against Shiawase?
No clue. I'll keep my ear to the ground, though.
I'll ask around. Why?
If we do any runs against Shiawase, I'll waive my fee. Totally free.

Remember that, if anything comes up.
THIS SHOULD NOT BE POSSIBLE TO HIT
Why run for free against Shiawase?
You live here in Heoi?
Have you been a shadowrunner your whole life?
See you later, Ducé.
Because the sons of bitches killed my wife and stole my son.

{{GM}}Ducé's voice is hard and flat.{{/GM}}

Anything to screw them over, I don't need to get paid for.
Why take your son?
Okay, I can understand being upset about that.
I'll bear that in mind.
Profit and biology.

He's got the genes for a Type-O immune system. You know what that is?
{{CC}}Biotech: 2{{/CC}} That's a universal donor designation, isn't it?
No. What's that mean?
{{GM}}Ducé nods.{{/GM}}

That's right. And it's not just blood, either. If a company wants to produce bioware on the cheap, they use SINless Type-O bodies as templates to grow the 'ware in.

Human factories, basically.
Sick stuff, but it's not like we can complain to anybody. Officially, we don't even exist.

{{GM}}Shaking his head, Ducé looks away.{{/GM}}

Let's talk about something else, okay?
It means that his organs and blood can be donated to anyone - they're universally compatible. If a company wants to produce bioware on the cheap, they use SINless Type-O bodies as templates to grow the 'ware in.

Human factories, basically.
{{GM}}Ducé nods in satisfaction.{{/GM}}

Good. The bastards were in it for a cheap payday - just another body to add to their assembly line. You ever heard of a Type-O immune system?
No. Chungking Mansions, down the way. Near Hung Hom. It's a real hellhole, but nothing like the Walled City.

Still, I come up here because this is where the work is. Lotta smugglers coming in and out, and a lot of freelancers needed to solve problems.
{{GM}}Gesturing toward the rest of the bar, Ducé surveys the dingy interior with an uncritical eye.{{/GM}}

Places like this exist all over the world - dives where cops won't come in except with riot gear. Where people like us gather around and try to figure out how to make our next nuyen. Find the right one, you can find any kind of work you want.
{{GM}}Chuckling, Ducé shakes his head.{{/GM}}

Nope. Originally, I was in IT. You know - tech support.
That's a hell of a jump to being a shadowrunner.
You don't strike me as an IT worker, frankly.
Yeah, well... Having your wife gunned down and your kid stolen tends to focus your attention. Sounds like a bad action sim, doesn't it?

Still, that's how it happened. One day, Shiawase's getting a reckoning.
You too. Keep safe, all right?
Sparrows Crack the Ice
The final attack in the Water Stance chain.
Those guards are still out there, $(l.name)... the same guards that Kindly doesn't want us killing.

We should probably go out the way that we came in.
{{GM}}The police captain doesn't even bother to look down at you. She waves you off, an irritable expression on her face.{{/GM}}

Stand back, please. This is a police matter.
Sure thing, officer. Keep up the good work!
Distraction III
Decreases the target's to hit chance by 18%. Lasts for 3 RNDS.
Distracted: Accuracy -18%
HighEx Round
Loads a single HighEx round. Does an additional 2 DMG and pierces up to 2 Armor. Strips 3 Armor from the target.
Pistol: A cheap, common pistol. Mass-produced to keep the cost minimal.
Katana
Melee: A cheap reproduction of the Japanese classic. May do AP DMG on a critical hit.
Head to the parking garage to capture Lee Tai-lung, the Plastic-Faced Man?
{{GM}}Pack up and head out.{{/GM}}
Head to the Fa Yuen Tower Apartments to capture Lee Tai-lung, the Plastic-Faced Man?
Head to the simsense theater to capture Lee Tai-lung, the Plastic-Faced Man?
Enhanced Articulation (Bioware)
Coats and lubricates joint surfaces of the legs to provide extreme fluidity of motion. Passive: +1 Dodge, +1 Quickness.
Cavalier Concussion Grenade
An effective flash grenade. Does -2 AP to everyone hit by its blast.
Distraction II
Decreases the target's to hit chance by 15%. Lasts for 2 RNDS.
Acid Stream 2
A stream of acid that also does ongoing 6 HP DMG for 2 RNDS. Strips 1 Armor from the target.
The neural inhibitor device seems to be working. Let's get this guy to a secure location and get some answers out of him.

I'll comm the crew and have them meet us.
All right, let's move.
I can't wait to find out what he knows.
I'm gonna enjoy this.
The coast is clear. It's time to move the Plastic-Faced Man to a secure location and get to the bottom of this. Your crew will meet you there.
This is a public matrix terminal for guests and visitors. Its primary functions appear to be directory and news services, as well as basic email.

This is also a perfect terminal for you to upload the faked visitor records.
>> Welcome to Ares Asia Holdings. Please note, all activity on public terminals is logged and recorded for security purposes.

Please state your query.
{{GM}}Alter visitor records.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Search for Dr. Taylor.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Search for Dr. Hardingham.{{/GM}}
You slip the datachip into a port on the public terminal and let the worm go to work. After several seconds, the chip flashes green.

Now, Ares Asia Holdings records show that Golden Fong has visited on several occasions in the past.
>> Dr. Taylor, P.

taylor_p@aresasia.HKCentral.HKFEZ

Drone Automation Division, Floor 27.
>> Biography:

Dr. Taylor has transferred to the Hong Kong offices of Ares Asia Holdings from his previous post in London, with Ares Europe. Dr. Taylor's research focuses primarily on drone weapons technology, although previous work has centered on cryogenics technology and the impact of the matrix on social structures and human development.
>>Current Research:

Dr. Taylor is joint chair of the Ares Asia Drone Research Laboratories with Dr. Ian Hardingham. Current projects include expansion of the Hangzhou Bay tidal power system, a proposal to expand the Hong Kong MTR maintenance program, and further research into machine learning.
>> Dr. Hardingham, I.

hardhingam_i@aresasia.HKCentral.HKFEZ

Advanced Drone Weaponry Division, Floor 27.
>> Biography:

Dr. Hardhingham has transferred to the Hong Kong offices of Ares Asia Holdings from his previous post in London, with Ares Europe. Dr. Hardingham holds advanced degrees in weapons design, mechanical engineering, and holds several patents in the field of artificial intelligence research.
>>Current Research:

As joint chair of the Ares Asia Drone Research Laboratories, Dr. Hardingham's duties are primarily related to the research and development of new artificial intelligence solutions that will keep Ares Macrotechnology competitive in this rapidly changing world. While the specific work of the Drone Research Laboratories is classified, previous efforts have been centered around self-repairing machinery, robotic game theory, and collective machine learning.
Ares Concussion Grenade
Ares' top-of-the-line concussion grenade. Does -3 AP to everyone hit by its blast.
Bonded Spell: Killing Hands & Stride
Passive: Unarmed DMG increased by 3. The adept's movement is increased by 2. Active: Unarmed DMG increased by a further 4, and Movement increased by a further 2 for 3 RNDS.
Killing Hands & Stride: DMG +7, Movement +4
Step back!

All visitors must check in before they're allowed elevator access.
You bet.
{{GM}}Attack the guards.{{/GM}} How about I open fire, instead?
Spur Stun
A spur attack that does 2 or more AP DMG. HP DMG is reduced by 2.
Mage Vision
Opens up the astral so the mage can see beyond the pale.
Sabot
Shock Baton
Close Combat: Does 4 HP and 2 AP DMG, but the battery must be reloaded after two strikes.
Street Sweeper
Shotgun: A makeshift, homemade shotgun.
Fichetti Concussion Grenade
Fichetti's basic non-lethal grenade. Does -1 AP to everyone hit by its blast.
Stylish yet secure enough to wear on a run.
{{GM}}A familiar voice pipes up in your communicator.{{/GM}}

Change of plans.

Search those bodies for a key fob. You'll need it to access the side door.
What side door?
In the lobby.

My program didn't work as well as I'd expected. I've been monitoring the exits on my cameras, and the HKPF have the front locked down.

Since you can't go out the front now, you've got to exit out the side. That key will get you through the locked side door, which will take you out the east service exit.
There's a side door?
Where's the side door?
Of course; a side door.
Interesting how you neglected to mention this earlier. Where is it?
The side of Matthew's trailer looks freshly scrubbed. It reeks of kerosene. Broad swathes of the flaking paint have been removed, revealing the brittle plastic siding, discolored by years of acid rain.

You can still see the faded black traces of erased graffiti.
It reads: "JOB STEALER."
Something thumps inside the trailer. You could easily peer in one of the windows.
{{GM}}Look in the window.{{/GM}}
Inside are dingy, cramped living quarters, cluttered with broken drones and unwashed dishes.

What looks like a rumpled, motley-colored shag carpet is heaped over about half the tiny space, obscuring most of the furniture.
After a moment, the shag carpet moves. It rises about a foot, and surges slightly towards the window.

Then it stops, pulsing and fidgeting. It's hard to see it clearly through the built-up grime on the window...
{{GM}}Wipe the window.{{/GM}}
The carpet is actually plush-covered drones: teddy bears, raccoons, little dolls. There must be two dozen inside the caravan, all companionship models. They're all looking at you - as if they've realized you're not Matthew. They watch, fidgeting.

Then, in one coordinated motion, they all lie down and go dormant again.
A massive steel security door is set into a bunker-like concrete wall. There is no sign, or identification of what this place is.

A battered intercom is encased in a cage of welded steel and armor glass. Grainy letters are barely readable on the screen.
CHROME ALLEY

MEDICAL SERVICES AND MECHANICAL REPAIR

PREMISES PROTECTED BY DEADLY WEAPONS AND INFECTIOUS DISEASES
{{GM}}Press the buzzer.{{/GM}}
There's a crackle of static, then a brusque voice answers:
What do you want?

{{GM}}The voice's Cantonese is precise, but the accent sounds American.{{/GM}}
Is this a medical clinic?
What is this place?
Knock knock, I need some medicine.
No, it's a chicken factory.

What... do... you... want?
I'm looking for a medical clinic.
I need a cyberdoc.
Drones and rigging gear.
Yeah, that's me. But listen $(l.guy), I don't know you. I don't like people I don't know.

Who sent you?
I'm friends with Is0bel and Gobbet.
I'm doing a job for Kindly.
{{GM}}Lie.{{/GM}} I'm one of Kindly's people.
Kindly will vouch for me.
Forget it, I'm going.
Yeah? Those two drag some real prizes out of the river.

You get Nightjar to vouch for you, I'll consider giving you the time of day. Got it?
Nightjar is dead.
You don't keep up with current events, do you? Nightjar's dead.
Are you going to let me in, or not?
{{GM}}There's a long silence on the intercom.{{/GM}}

Crying shame if that's true... and I saw that one coming.
So you just washed up with Is0bel and Gobbet, huh?

You know what that tells me? You're here to today, and you'll be gone tomorrow. I'll keep my distance.
Not without somebody vouching for you. This is a private neighborhood clinic, not a shelter for homeless idiots.
A job for Kindly, huh? You and every other hood in the Kong.

Come back if you get some wheels around here. Otherwise, fuck off.
There's a burst of static, and the intercom goes dead.
Really, huh? I'll just check on that...

{{GM}}There's a long, static-laden silence on the intercom. Then it reactivates long enough for two words to reach you:{{/GM}}

Fuck off.
Yeah? You just idle your engine there for a minute, and I'll check on that...

{{GM}}There's a long silence on the intercom.{{/GM}}
The door gives several heavy, metallic clicks. There's a dull rumble, like heavy bolts sliding back. A green light flashes on the terminal.

The door appears to be unlocked. You can enter the clinic.
You want Reliable Mathew. He's a got a used drone lot out on the docks.

Now get lost. I don't like strangers.

It's a chicken factory.

What... do... you... want?
Ha ha, very funny. Listen $(L.guy), I don't know you. I don't like people I don't know.

What are you doing here? Who sent you?
{{GM}}The intercom buzzes to life.{{/GM}}

You again? I thought I told you to fuck off.
Letting others know that your totem is power.
You enter to find Wu setting up a little nest on the floor of his cabin, using an old tarp for a blanket and a duffel bag for a pillow.
Before you ask, this is for me.

{{GM}}He stabs a thumb towards his bed.{{/GM}}

Raymond gets the bunk.
{{GM}}Raymond looks around the cabin with some apprehension. He sniffs the air and his nose wrinkles.{{/GM}}

This... is where you l-live?
This is where we hide.
It has it's own unique charm. We call it $(story.Global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName).
That's right. We took what we could get. It's been a rough ride since we followed you here.
$(story.Global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName).

Yes... ch-charming.
{{GM}}Raymond's eyes drop to the floor.{{/GM}}

I am sorry you had to... follow me. Had to go th-through what you did... live like this... to h-help me.
Forget that. I think you've lived with enough guilt for one lifetime.
You're my father, Raymond. Of course I came.
You would have done the same for me.
$+(l.he)'s right, Ray. I don't know what sort of justice you're looking for, but coming here alone... facing Quian Ya...

I was wrong, little man. You're no coward.
It is good to hear you s-say that, $(l.firstname). And I'm glad you were here... especially at the e-end.
If you had c-created a fortune engine... opened a rift for a d-demon to pass through?

{{GM}}He holds one hand with another.{{/GM}}

I-I don't know... I hope I would.
I... s-still can't believe what you did... the way you s-stood up to... to *her.*
Me either.
I did what I had to do.
Yeah, I have to admit, I was pretty impressive.
Aw shucks, it was nothing. Anyone could've done it.
{{GM}}The old man's eyes crinkle, offer you something new. Respect.{{/GM}}

But you did it... and y-you were... very clever.
{{GM}}The old man's eyes crinkle, offer you something new. Respect.{{/GM}}

Maybe so... but y-you were... very clever.
{{GM}}The old man's eye crinkle in amusement.{{/GM}}

It is good to see some things... have not ch-changed, $(l.firstname).
{{GM}}Raymond stares at his hands.{{/GM}}

Even after all that has h-happened... I still f-find it hard to believe that Mother...

{{GM}}He swallows.{{/GM}}

... did those things.
What exactly was she doing to your brain, Raymond? We know she was altering your memories...
One memory... j-just one.

She was going to make me believe... that my f-fortune engine... n-never worked... that my theory w-was wrong... and th-that was why she canceled p-Prosperity.

It was th-the smallest... simplest change she could think of... the m-most b-believable.
What would happen to your memories of living in Seattle? Would it wipe our entire history together?
Who knows if it would have w-worked?

That one event... was the catalyst for me to become... the m-man I am today.
Too c-complicated. I would still g-go to Seattle... still run away...

{{GM}}He looks over at Duncan.{{/GM}}

...but it would be because of my loss of face... at having failed... in front of all m-my subordinates. Instead of...

{{GM}}He lets the thought drift.{{/GM}}
Lucky thing for us, that you did come to Seattle.

{{GM}}Wu smirks at you, flashes his pearly whites.{{/GM}}

Well, maybe not for $(l.firstname), here. $+(l.he)'s had a harder road than me.
So I understand. Duncan tells me that you were... imprisoned f-for a long time. I...had no idea.
Duncan talks a lot.
No, you just figured I ran out on you after all you did for me.
Yeah, I was locked down hard. No communication with the outside world.
Just bringing Ray up to speed on current events, $(l.firstname).
It's true. That is wh-what I thought.

{{GM}}The old man closes his eyes, takes a deep breath.{{/GM}}

I misjudged you. I was wrong.
That would explain... a g-great deal.

{{GM}}The old man closes his eyes, takes a deep breath.{{/GM}}

I misjudged you... for m-many years. I was wrong.
Did that really just happen? Did Ray just say he was *wrong?*
Yup. First time for everything.
{{GM}}Hold out your hand.{{/GM}} Yes, he did. Thank you, Raymond.
He did. It doesn't mean I'm just gonna let the past go though.
Raymond takes your hand and shakes it. The hand feels frail, like it's made of pigeon bones.
I understand. I think we... have m-much to discuss.
That's right.
I still have questions. About Edward Tsang.
It appears we b-both have gaps in what we know... about the other's past.

I want to take the time...to f-fill them in.
For years I worked to h-help you to develop a strong sense of s-self-identity... wanted you to know who you were... live a genuine life.

{{GM}}He makes eye-contact. Doesn't flinch.{{/GM}}

Perhaps b-because I... was living a lie.
Now that you are older... have been through s-so much... I m-must ask.

{{GM}}The old man looks into your face, searching.{{/GM}}

Who are you? Do you know?
I'm still $(l.fullname) - on the inside, anyway.
$(s.name). I'm a shadowrunner.
I'm trying to figure that out.
I'm the $(s.guy) who beat Qian Ya.
And part of m-me... is still Edward Tsang... on the inside.
The old man says nothing. He simply takes you in - your clothing, your equipment. A sadness slowly appears on his face.
I think perhaps... we only understand who we are at the end... w-when we can l-look back on the whole thing... add it all up.
{{GM}}His eyes crinkle again.{{/GM}}

Still the same, $(l.firstname)... I guess s-some things don't change.
{{GM}}Wu gently drops a hand on the old man's shoulder.{{/GM}}

Okay Raymond, you need to rest. Tomorrow, I'll take you to see a guy named Ambrose. He might be able to help you with that stutter.

{{GM}}He looks from his foster-father to you. A twinkle appears in his eye.{{/GM}}

Then maybe we'll get dim sum together like we used to.

The three of us.
And then we'll walk off into the sunset arm in arm, right?
I'd like that. Dim sum sounds good.
You two go. I think I need some time to think. Figure out how I feel about Raymond.
Perhaps that was too much to ask... after all that's gone on.
Let's see... how I f-feel tomorrow.

{{GM}}Raymond rubs his stomach, let's out a little burp.{{/GM}}

Gobbet's soup... does not agree with m-me.

{{GM}}Raymond sits down on Wu's bunk and closes his eyes. A moment later, he begins snoring softly.{{/GM}}
I u-understand... and I can r-respect that.

{{GM}}Raymond sits down on Wu's bunk and closes his eyes. A moment later, he begins snoring softly.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Wu watches the old man for a moment, without speaking. Then he shakes his head, confused.{{/GM}}

I don't know what to think about him anymore, $(l.firstname). I don't know what to think about any of this.
You gonna stay in Hong Kong, Wu?
What do you think of staying a runner, Duncan? This the life for you?
So, what's next for you, Duncan... I mean, after dim sum?
{{GM}}Wu rubs his eyes, begins unbuckling his ammo belt.{{/GM}}

Oh crap, I don't know. It's too late to *think.*

I'll probably just do what I've been doing since we arrived here.
Follow your lead.

{{GM}}He pulls his armor over his head and drops it on the bed.{{/GM}}
Now get out of here. I've got a date with a duffel bag pillow.
You enter Wu's cabin to the sound of his neck cracking at a horrifying volume. You catch his eye and he nods, then begins his standard stretching regimen.
I wish there was a Stuffer Shack in this damn country. I need some Nerps or Bromo-Fizz or something.

{{GM}}He rubs his stomach and lets out a burp.{{/GM}}

That Gobbet Stew is heinous.
Yeah, I stay away from that. Did she offer you an oyster?
I think we should talk, Duncan. About Raymond.
It's nasty, no doubt. Just came in to say goodnight.
I actually kind of like it. The macaroni makes it feel like home.
Nah, we're not that tight. I mean, I don't visit her bunk all the time like you do.

{{GM}}He pulls his right elbow back behind his head, stretching his triceps.{{/GM}}

They're a good crew, aren't they?
Yeah, they really got the job done.
I've seen worse.
They'll do, I guess.
Defeating a demon-queen? Yeah, I'd say so.

{{GM}}Wu switches elbows, exhales slowly as he pulls.{{/GM}}

Long goddamn day. Feels good to stretch.
Uh, we just defeated a demon-queen, $(l.lastname). What more do you want?

{{GM}}Wu switches elbows, exhales slowly as he pulls.{{/GM}}

Long goddamn day. Feels good to stretch.
Yeah, I bet. You doing okay?
You just gonna avoid talking about Raymond? About what he did?
So you're just gonna pretend like that didn't happen?
{{GM}}Wu shrugs. Turns his back and begins stretching his legs.{{/GM}}

Yeah, sure. I took a few hits, but I'll be okay.
Come on, Wu. Raymond's dead. We have to acknowledge it.
That's it? We just saw Raymond sacrifice himself to a demon-queen.
Okay, fine. I'm out of here.
{{GM}}Wu spins his torso around, glares at you red-eyed.{{/GM}}

He's *not* dead, $(l.firstname)! Didn't you hear her?

She's gonna *feast* on him. Torture him.

He's *worse* than dead. Way, way worse. He left us. And now he's gonna be tortured for a thousand years or some such shit.
{{GM}}Wu spins his torso around, glares at you red-eyed.{{/GM}}

What do you want me to say, $(l.firstname)? That he was *noble?* That he was *brave?*

Fuck that. He's gone. He left us. He lied to us, he hurt people, and then he left us.

And now he's gonna be tortured for a thousand years or some such shit.
Stop!

{{GM}}Wu spins his torso around, glares at you red-eyed.{{/GM}}

What do you want me to say, $(l.firstname)? No, I am *not* okay, is that better?

Raymond is gone. He left us. He lied to us, he hurt people, and then he left us. His name wasn't even *Raymond!*

And now he's gonna be tortured for a thousand years or some such shit.
Which "what he did" are you talking about? The "what he did" where he created a magical machine that caused misery and opened demon doors?

Or the "what he did" where he...

{{GM}}Wu bunches up his fists, his lower lip pushing out in frustration.{{/GM}}

...where he left us... to be tortured by that thing.
{{GM}}Wu bunches up his fists, his lower lip pushing out in frustration.{{/GM}}

Pretend like what didn't happen? That *Edward* didn't give himself to a fucking *demon* to be tortured to atone for his sins? That he didn't make a magical machine that caused untold misery? That he didn't lie to us for years about who he was?

That he didn't leave us so he could be *tortured* for fuck-knows-how-long to atone for his sins?
Raymond was tortured since the day we met him. Rememberer when you realized that he'd been carrying *this* around the whole time?
He was my father, Duncan. I need to forgive him and move on.
I feel like you do - betrayed. Wronged.
Raymond paid for his mistakes. No question about it.
So that's what this is about? That he *left?*
Yeah... yeah, I remember.

{{GM}}Wu flops down on his bed.{{/GM}}

I guess he started paying years ago - before we ever knew him. And now he's still paying. Maybe even after we're in the ground, he'll still be paying.
I was wrong about Raymond, $(l.firstname). Really wrong.

{{GM}}He looks up at you again, his face drained of anger. Drained of frustration.{{/GM}}

Ray was no coward.

I could never have done what he did. Not in a million years.
I just... don't know how I'll ever be able to forget that. How I'll ever be able to move on.
You suck it up. Life's a shit sandwich, son. And the more bread you have, the less shit you have to eat.
You just put one foot in front of the other. Eventually, you'll be moving on.
You don't forget it. You remember his sacrifice, and you try and live up to his example.
So we keep running the shadows until we're dead or rich, huh? Yeah, okay. I'll sleep on that one.

{{GM}}Wu strips off his armor and tosses it into the corner.{{/GM}}

Time for bed, $(l.honorific) $(l.lastname). I think we both deserve a good night's sleep.

Get out of here. I'll see you in the morning.
Did you read that on the back of a self-help book? It's stupid.

{{GM}}Wu strips off his armor and tosses it into the corner.{{/GM}}

Time for bed, $(l.honorific) $(l.lastname). I think we both deserve a good night's sleep.

Get out of here. I'll see you in the morning.
Yeah, we'll see. I haven't decided how much I want to emulate Raymond Black yet.

{{GM}}Wu strips off his armor and tosses it into the corner.{{/GM}}

Time for bed, $(l.honorific) $(l.lastname). I think we both deserve a good night's sleep.

Get out of here. I'll see you in the morning.
Sure. I get that. I need to move on, too. I'm just not gonna forgive him.

{{GM}}Wu shakes his head to ward off the thought. He grabs an ammo box with one hand and begins curling it like a dumbbell.{{/GM}}
Well, then we have that in common.

{{GM}}Wu grabs an ammo box with one hand and begins curling it like a dumbbell.{{/GM}}

I tell you what - I am not gonna be like him. I'm not gonna let this kind of thing eat away at me from the inside.
No question about it. High fucking price.

{{GM}}Wu grabs an ammo box with one hand and begins curling it like a dumbbell.{{/GM}}
No. It's about me. Alone.

No Carter. No Raymond. No life.

{{GM}}Wu grabs an ammo box with one hand and begins curling it like a dumbbell.{{/GM}}
What about you?

What do you think about Raymond, his mom, the Fortune Engine... this whole messed up business?
We beat the Queen With a Thousand Teeth. Can't imagine anyone else in the Barrens could claim that.
I think we're pretty damn good shadowrunners.
I would say that we got roped into some truly fucked-up foggy bullshit.
You gotta love Hong Kong, Duncan Wu. You gotta love Hong Kong.
Everyone else in the Barrens that *I* knew is dead.

{{GM}}Wu drops the ammo box on the floor with a crash.{{/GM}}

Time for bed, $(l.honorific) $(l.lastname). I think we deserve a good night's sleep.

Get out of here. I'll see you in the morning.
I prefer criminal mercenary operatives.

{{GM}}Wu drops the ammo box on the floor with a crash.{{/GM}}

Time for bed, $(l.honorific) $(l.lastname). I think we deserve a good night's sleep.

Get out of here. I'll see you in the morning.
Ain't that the truth?

{{GM}}Wu drops the ammo box on the floor with a crash.{{/GM}}

Time for bed, $(l.honorific) $(l.lastname). I think we deserve a good night's sleep.

Get out of here. I'll see you in the morning.
Not me. I still hate this country.

{{GM}}Wu drops the ammo box on the floor with a crash.{{/GM}}

Time for bed, $(l.honorific) $(l.lastname). I think we deserve a good night's sleep.

Get out of here. I'll see you in the morning.
{{GM}}Wu switches elbows, exhales slowly as he pulls.{{/GM}}

Long goddamn day. Feels good to stretch.
Tucking me in, $(l.firstname)? Are you my mom now?

Replacement for Raymond?
Tucking me in, $(l.firstname)? Are you my dad now?

Replacement for Raymond?
Yes, now do your homework and go to bed.
Not funny, Duncan.
I don't think we can replace the little man.
This is already getting creepy. Cut it out.

{{GM}}Wu switches elbows, exhales slowly as he pulls.{{/GM}}

Long goddamn day. Feels good to stretch.
For you, maybe. But then, you're used to prison food, so maybe I shouldn't judge.

{{GM}}He pulls his right elbow back behind his head, stretching his triceps.{{/GM}}

Long goddamn day. Feels good to stretch.
Wu's cabin appears to be the only clean spot on $(story.Global_HK_Hub_SafeBoatName). His equipment is neatly laid out on his bedding, grouped by type, arranged just so. He is cleaning his weapon with meticulous care.
Well, that's that, I guess. We're runners now.
Yep. Think it's time to catch up?
I forgot to ask about benefits. Think we get medical and dental care?
Something on your mind, Gun Show?
Could be.

{{GM}}He stops for a moment. Stares at the weapon in his hand.{{/GM}}

That's why I'm maintaining my equipment. It helps me focus my brain. Work through stuff.
{{GM}}He sighs. Lowers the rifle.{{/GM}}

Now's as good a time as any, I guess. Where do you want to start?
{{GM}}He stops for a moment. Stares at the weapon in his hand.{{/GM}}

Damn, I don't think we took the brochure. We'll have to ask for it the next time we have an audience with our Chinese syndicate crime lord.
{{GM}}He looks down the barrel of his gun, blows into it.{{/GM}}

You look like you want to talk about something. What's the topic?
{{GM}}Wu holds up a palm.{{/GM}}

Don't... just... don't.

When we're alone, it's either Wu or Duncan. Gun Show doesn't live here.
{{GM}}Wu looks down the barrel of his gun, brushes off some dirt.{{/GM}}

And yeah, there's plenty on my mind. That's why I'm doing equipment maintenance. The discipline of it helps me focus. Process.

What about you? You look like you want to talk about something.
I want to talk about Raymond.
Let's talk about being shadowrunners.
What's your opinion of Kindly Cheng?
Let's talk about Gobbet and Is0bel.
I can't get that dream that I had out of my head. You said you had one, too, right?
What'd you think about that last run?
Let's talk later.
Okay, shoot.
What do you think's going on with him?
Why do you think he came to Hong Kong?
Did he say anything about me after I left?
I don't know, $(l.firstname). He was clearly obsessed with the Walled City and whatever prosperity is. He sounds like a sleepwalker trying to stumble his way through a dream or something.

A sleepwalker who hires shadowrunners.
Whatever he was doing, he knew it would be dangerous.
From triad bosses.
Raymond was smart. Smart as hell. If he thought he needed runners to take him into that place, he needed 'em.
Raymond was smart. Smart as hell. I'm sure he had a reason for using Kindly Cheng as a Fixer.
Well, he's from here, right? It sounds like he had unfinished business that he needed to take care of before... you think he's dying?
Maybe.
Just something to think about.
Yeah, me either. Just something to think about.
You know Raymond, $(l.firstname). He taught us what he wanted to teach us. Told us what he wanted us to know. Everything else was met with a wall of good-natured silence.

He used to say, "You are the master of the unspoken word, Mr. Wu. Once it is out of your mouth, it is out of your control."
So no. After you left, he never said a word about you. Not a word.
Sure. Ask away.
What's there to say? I worked my ass off to pull myself out of the gutter and make something of my life. I did what it took to earn my bronze. And now I'm a mercenary hiding in the shadows of a foreign country, doing dirty jobs that the corps need to keep off the books. It's the reverse of everything I ever wanted.

You seem to be taking to it pretty damn well, so let me ask *you* something.
You said this was all about the money. That it was time for you to cash in.

Was that true?
Yes, if it doesn't have a price associated with it, I'm not interested.
No. That's just what I told Kindly.
Seriously, that's it? It's just about the money? I guess your time in jail really changed you.

{{GM}}He shakes his head.{{/GM}}

This is all about Raymond for me. I need to understand what happened to him and who's responsible. I need justice.
You said that you had nothing back home and that's why you were cool with becoming a runner.

Was that true?
You know it's true. When I got out of that prison I had nothing. I still have nothing.
That's bleak. Seriously bleak.

{{GM}}He shakes his head.{{/GM}}

We really went in different directions, $(l.firstname) - you to jail and me to Lone Star.
Well, I get that you've got nothing back home, but this is all about Raymond for me.

I need to understand what happened to him and who's responsible.

I need justice.
You said this was all about running the shadows until we find out who killed Raymond. Then it's about payback.

Was that true?
Yes, this is all about revenge for me.
Be careful about taking the road to revenge, $(l.firstname). It usually ends at two grave sites.
Then what's the real reason?
You know I don't have anything back home. This is as good a life as any, I guess.
I'm running the shadows until we find out who killed Raymond. Then someone's gonna pay.
I think Raymond's alive. We need to run the shadows until we find out what really happened to him.
Actually, that was the real reason.
Yeah, I guess that's true. Holy shit, $(l.firstname), you did some time.

{{GM}}He shakes his head.{{/GM}}

Well, I get that you have nothing back home, but this is all about Raymond for me. I need to understand what happened to him and who's responsible.

I need justice.
Seriously, that's it? It's just about the money? I guess your time in jail really changed you.

This is all about Raymond for me. I need to understand what happened to him and who's responsible.

I need justice.
Be careful of taking the road to revenge, $(l.firstname). It usually ends at two grave sites.

I need to understand what happened to him and who's responsible.

I need justice.
I'd love that, too, believe me. But this is all about Raymond for me. I need to understand what happened to him and who's responsible.

I need justice.
{{GM}}Wu nods, surprised and satisfied.{{/GM}}

Good that we're on the same page. I feel better knowing that.
At least you're consistent.
You said this was all about clearing your name and getting the hell out of Hong Kong.

Was that true?
Yeah. I lost years of my life in that prison. I wanted a fresh start. I still want one.
I want that for you too, believe me. But this is all about Raymond for me. I need to understand what happened to him and who's responsible. I need justice.
You said you thought that Raymond was alive, too. That we'd run the shadows until we could figure out what happened to him.

Was that true?
Yes. For me, this is all about finding out what really happened to Raymond.
No. That's just what I told Kindly.
{{GM}}Wu nods, clearly satisfied.{{/GM}}

Good that we're on the same page. I feel better knowing that.
Sure. Ask me something.
I'd say she's got us right where she wants us - right under her thumb.

What do you want to talk about specifically?
What do you think she wants from us?
You think we can trust her?
What about this Plastic-Faced Man?
We should keep an eye on Strangler Bao.
As long as her network keeps delivering information about Raymond, I don't care. At least, for now.

We need to stay with her. We have no other connections in Hong Kong. Without her, we're dead in the water.
A triad boss and underground Fixer? No, I don't think we can trust her. But as long as we all share the same goals, we should be okay.
I wish that I had your confidence.
Makes sense. As long as we serve her interests, she doesn't have a reason to screw us over.
That woman is a snake. I don't trust a word that comes out of her mouth.
Look, it's simple. She provides jobs, we do jobs. She gets info about Raymond and that Plastic-Faced Man, and we figure out what the hell is going on. We figure out what's going on, she doesn't end up in the trunk of a car at the bottom of the river.

Everybody wins.
Exactly. It's simple - she provides jobs, we do jobs. She gets info about Raymond and that Plastic-Faced Man, and we figure out what the hell is going on. We figure out what's going on, she doesn't end up in the trunk of a car at the bottom of the river.

Everybody wins.
Look, Cheng didn't get where she is by acting against her own self-interest.

It's simple - she provides jobs, we do jobs. She gets info about Raymond and that Plastic-Faced Man, and we figure out what the hell is going on. We figure out what's going on, she doesn't end up in the trunk of a car at the bottom of the river.

Everybody wins.
Creepy dudes are nothing new to me. Even well-dressed, creepy corporate dudes. Between the gangers we grew up with and the shit that I've run into as a cop, I've seen all kinds.

I just want to know who he is and who he works for.
We should keep an eye on *everybody,* and that guy is definitely no exception.
You sure got on his bad side earlier. You gotta be careful about making enemies here. We don't know anything about this place.
I'll be careful.
Screw that guy.
Don't tell me how to live.
Uh-huh. I can see that.
I'm just trying to watch your back, since you don't appear to be doing a very good job of it.
I've seen plenty of cold killers in the Barrens and plenty more since I joined Lone Star. This guy's the real deal - I'm not sure if he knows what the word "remorse" even means. You should steer clear of him.
Sure, if you want.
They seem competent, considering how young they are. But then again, they sound like they've been taking care of themselves since they were pretty young.

The three of us worked together well in the Walled City. Based on that, I'd bet the four of us would make a solid crew.
Do you trust them?
Gobbet talks to rats.
Is0bel seems sharper than most.
As far as I trust any runner, yeah. It's like Raymond used to say, "Trust and verify."

They haven't given me a reason not to trust them, so until they do, I'll believe what they say and keep my eyes open.
She's a Rat shaman, $(l.firstname). Of course she talks to rats. Remember that guy in the Barrens, JoeyD? Small time BTL guy - lived at the Royale Apartments?

He had a Skunk shaman working guard duty for him. Covered him when he slept. Guess he figured that no matter what, the stink would wake him up.
Don't remember him.
Whatever happened to him?
Skunk shaman, huh?
No matter, he was small time. Heard he got clipped a couple years ago. He'd moved up a bunch in the BTL biz. Broadened his market, took over the Royale, grabbed the penthouse apartment for himself. Heard he ran afoul of some runner, who took apart his whole crew.

Heard he traded in his Skunk shaman for a hellhound. Smart move.
Heard he got clipped a couple years ago. He'd moved up a bunch in the BTL biz. Broadened his market, took over the Royale, grabbed the penthouse apartment for himself. Heard he ran afoul of some runner, who took apart his whole crew.

Heard he traded in his Skunk shaman for a hellhound. Smart move.
Yeah. Swore the stink would protect him from predators.

Heard he got clipped a couple years ago. He'd moved up a bunch in the BTL biz. Broadened his market, took over the Royale, grabbed the penthouse apartment for himself. Heard he ran afoul of some runner, who took apart his whole crew.

Heard he'd traded in his skunk shaman for a hellhound. Bad move, I guess.
Hard to tell, she talks so little. I guess that's what makes her seem sharp. She isn't running off her mouth all the time.

Plus she's a decker - never met someone who could jack into cyberspace, run a corp system, and come back alive who was a *complete* moron.
Yeah, yours sounded like a nasty one. I don't remember much about mine.

I was pretty creeped out by our run into the Walled City. Between that and all the drama, I'd be surprised if I *didn't* have a nightmare.

{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}
Was the Walled City in your dream?
What do you remember about yours?
Did it feel any different from other nightmares you've had?
Of course the Walled City was in my dream. It was a nightmare, wasn't it?

{{GM}}He gives you a lopsided grin.{{/GM}}

Was it in your dream, too?
Sure looked like it.
Slums start to look alike after a while, right?
Maybe. I suppose it could've been anywhere.
I'm not sure I'm surprised. The Walled City is more than just another slum in a sprawl. Hell, it *is* a sprawl.

Of course we dreamed about it.

The feeling I had there has stayed with me. It felt thick, heavy. And I got this overwhelming feeling of... I don't know... wretchedness, I guess.
They may look similar, but the Walled City *felt* different, $(l.firstname). Thick, heavy, and overwhelmed by... I don't know... wretchedness, I guess.

Whatever. It was the Walled City in my dream, for sure.
Yeah, I suppose. Mine definitely felt like the Walled City, though. Same feeling I had when we went there. Thick, heavy, and overwhelmed by... wretchedness. Is that a word?
Wretchedness? Yeah, it's a word.
Stick to cop words, Duncan.
Good to know.

{{GM}}He shakes his head with a look of disgust.{{/GM}}

Glad to put that place behind me.
Yeah, what was I thinking?

{{GM}}He shakes his head with a look of disgust.{{/GM}}

Glad to put that place behind me.
Just little snatches of things.

{{GM}}He puts his hands on his hips and concentrates.{{/GM}}

The Walled City was breathing... and it had teeth everywhere. And there was a tunnel that was so bright that I had to shut my eyes. And Raymond was there. He was either kneeling or lying down, I can't remember which, but he was crying. That's what made me wake up - the sound of my father crying.
{{GM}}He takes his time, thinks about his answer a bit before he responds.{{/GM}}

You know how sometimes you'll be mad at a friend in a dream and then wake up still mad at him? Then you treat him like he did something wrong when you see him?

It kinda feels like that to me. Like I dreamed I was swimming towards a bright light and when I woke up, I was out of breath from the effort.
All right.
Later's good. I wanna do some cardio, work off some steam. Then it's rack time for me.

You should do the same, $(l.firstname). A couple hundred pushups would do you good.
I don't think so, Duncan. But hey, knock yourself out.
Please. I could bust out two hundred in my sleep.
Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll go have a drink instead.
{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

Your loss. Talk to you later.
{{GM}}He raises an eyebrow.{{/GM}}

I'd love to see that sometime. But for now, you should clear out - I wanna get started, and this cabin isn't big enough for two.
Doesn't look like I'm going anywhere.
You're back. Need something else?
{{GM}}You enter Wu's cabin to find him moving through some sort of stretching routine. His muscles ripple as he flows tranquilly from one pose to the next.{{/GM}}

You look different, $(l.firstname).
Better, I hope.
I look older, right?
Sort of. It's like I flipped forward a few chapters instead of turning a page. I mean, you look like you - just... not the you I knew.
Yeah. Like I flipped forward a few chapters instead of turning a page. I mean, you look like you - just... not the you I knew.
Sounds like song lyrics.
I get it. You're you too, just a lot... leaner.
I have no idea what you're saying right now.
{{GM}}Wu chuckles.{{/GM}}

No, no... No more song lyrics for me. I gave up *that* dream a long time ago.

Remember how Lockjaw used to make fun of my singing voice?

{{GM}}He smiles - his teeth are perfect.{{/GM}}

He said I sounded like a frog with a hard-on.
{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

*I* thought my voice was distinctive. I mean, I'm no Maria Mercurial, but...
{{GM}}Wu looks down at his torso. Chuckles.{{/GM}}

Yeah, remember how Lockjaw used to make fun of my gut? He used to call me "Duncan Donut."

{{GM}}He smiles - his teeth are perfect.{{/GM}}

I guess I got tired of that whole "running out of energy walking up stairs" thing. Plus, I needed to slim down to get into the academy. And once I got off my ass and started exercising - you know, *really* exercising - I found out that I loved it.
It's the focus, I guess. I don't have to think about anything. I don't have to talk to anyone. All I have to do is concentrate on my form and count my reps.

And no matter what happens after that, I've started my day by *accomplishing* something.
{{GM}}He chuckles.{{/GM}}

You sound like Lockjaw. Remember him? Never followed a damn thing I said. Good guy, but not big on the thinking thing.

{{GM}}Wu smiles - his teeth are perfect.{{/GM}}

I'm saying that you look... more mature. Like you *know* more now. It's written on your face.

Takes getting used to.
It's weird thinking that you have eight years of experiences that I know nothing about. I used to know everything about you.

{{GM}}The corner of his mouth pinches tight.{{/GM}}

I used to know how the world worked, too. At least I thought I knew.
So, what about you?

{{GM}}He gives you a once-over.{{/GM}}

How are *you* doing?
Good, actually. This is the life I always wanted.
Kinda pissed at Raymond for getting us into this whole thing.
I'm a little freaked out. I don't know this city at all. I feel like an alien here.
Not too good. Thinking about Raymond.
About how you'd expect. Been better.
Same as always.
Yeah, I knew you'd take to it. And you're good at running this crew.

I still don't completely understand, though.

What do you get out of being a shadowrunner?
Freedom. I'm not a cog in the corporate machine.
It's the money. There's no way I could ever earn this much in a straight job.
It's the thrill. Running keeps me firmly in the moment. I feel alive.
I get to hurt people for money.
It's about seeing the world how it really is. Underneath the veneer.
I don't know. I can't put my finger on it.
Sure you're not.

{{GM}}He chuckles to himself.{{/GM}}
Come on, $(l.firstname), think. Of *course* you're a cog. *Everyone's a cog.* Whether you're working for them, consuming their crap, getting brainwashed by news media that they control, voting for the people that they put in front of you, or being policed by people that they own, you're a cog.

And you're the lowest kind of cog.
A shadowrunner. A disposable asset. SINless.

Slithering through the cracks of society. Doing jobs that are too dirty for the corps to do themselves. You don't even appear on a corporate balance sheet.
You make it sound so unglamorous.
I call my own shots. Take the jobs I want.
Runners can be more than that. They can move their own agenda. Fight the power.
Oh, I never said we didn't get to *dress* well!

If you're gonna be someone's disposable asset, you might as well go out in style.
Wu watches you, waiting for you to say something.
You thinking about getting chromed up?
I want to talk about you and me.
Let's go back to what we were talking about before - you and me.
Do you ever think about when we were kids?
With cyber?

{{GM}}He shakes his head.{{/GM}}

Oh my god, how many times are you gonna ask me that?
Until you give me a satisfying answer.
Oh, at least a couple dozen more times. You always have the best reactions.
I'm gonna keep asking until you show me some chrome.
{{GM}}Wu grins. His teeth are blindingly white.{{/GM}}

I told you *one time* I was thinking about it when I was *thirteen!* Let it go. I'm not gonna pollute my body with that shit.

You?
{{CC}}Archetype: Shaman{{/CC}} I'm a shaman, Wu. We don't tend to go in for a lot of cybernetic augmentation.
{{CC}}Archetype: Mage{{/CC}} I'm a mage, remember? Chrome and magic go together like crude oil and peanut butter.
{{CC}}Archetype: Adept{{/CC}} Wu. Look at me. I've got the magic in my hands. Of *course* I won't get cybered.
You never know.
No, not for me, either.
I'm saving up for something.
Yeah, I guess you've got a point there.

That's a good thing, by the way. Better to keep yourself whole and in touch with the world around you. I may not have magic, but I know that's true.
I always thought you might go for it, if you had a good enough reason.

Just be careful. I've heard stories about folks who went too far with it. Lost some of themselves.
That's good. I've heard stories about people who went too far. Lost some of themselves.
No judgment here. Just don't put too much of that shit on your body. I've heard stories about folks who went too far with it. Lost some of themselves.
{{GM}}Wu grins. His teeth are blindingly white.{{/GM}}

That isn't gonna happen, $(l.firstname). I mean, I told you *one time* I was thinking about it when I was *thirteen!*

Let it go. I'm not gonna pollute my body with that shit.
What about you, huh? *You* gonna start getting limbs hacked off and replaced with fancy gadgets?
{{GM}}He rests his eyes on you a moment, his face neutral.{{/GM}}

Yeah... yeah, I guess now's as good a time as any. You start.
You're not acting like the Duncan Wu that I grew up with. What made you decide to become a cop?
Seems like Carter's death hit you pretty hard.
You've been waiting a long time to ask me about the night I left, haven't you?
I needed structure, bad. You know that better than anyone.

I was already hard-core when we met - Mr. Ultraviolence. I'd do anything to get a rise out of the guys I was rolling with - gouging eyes, inverting knees, curb-stomping. That shit got me cheers. I was like a pit fighter, bloodletting for the crowd. And I learned to enjoy it.
But I never learned how to block out the memories of their screams when I was lying in bed at night. The guilt started eating me alive. And then I was scared to be alone with my thoughts. So I tried to drown them out with all the things that you drown things out with.
I remember that you were pretty messed up when we met.
How bad was it?
You never told me that before. You seemed to have it under control when we were together.
{{GM}}He shakes his head, sadly.{{/GM}}

Yeah, I was. But I got a lot better when we found a squat together, and even better later when we went to live with Ray. I was still a violent son of a bitch, but basically under control.

That was because of *you,* $(l.name). You were the voice of reason. And the brains.
{{GM}}He lowers his head sadly.{{/GM}}

Pretty nasty. But that was before we met. When we squatted together, and later when we were living with Ray, I was still a violent son of a bitch, but basically under control.

That was because of *you,* $(l.name). You were the voice of reason. And the brains.
It's funny how people remember things. Yeah, when we squatted together and later, when we were living with Ray, I was still a violent son of a bitch, but basically under control.

But that was *you,* $(l.name). You were the voice of reason. The brains.
That sounds about right.
Me? The brains?
I don't remember it that way.
Of course it does. When we ran the streets together, I was the muscle and you called the shots. You pointed and I hit.

But later, after Ray got me some counseling, I realized that I let you call the shots so that *I* wouldn't have to, because I knew that what I wanted was *wrong.* By following your lead, I was deflecting my own guilt onto you - it was your decision, not mine. I could just knock heads and walk away clean. Y'know, "Don’t look at me, I'm just doing what I'm told."
Don't pretend you weren't the leader. You know how it was. When we ran the streets together, I was the muscle and you called the shots. You pointed and I hit.

But later, after Ray got me some counseling, I realized I let you call the shots so that *I* wouldn't have to, because I knew that what I wanted was *wrong.* By following your lead, I was deflecting my own guilt onto you. I could just knock heads and walk away clean. Y'know, "Don’t look at me, I'm just doing what I'm told."
Like I said, it's funny how you remember things. It may have felt like a partnership to you, but believe me, when we ran the streets together, I was the muscle and you called the shots. You pointed and I hit.

But later, after Ray got me some counseling, I realized that I let you call the shots so that *I* wouldn't have to, because I knew that what I wanted was *wrong.*
By following your lead, I was deflecting my own guilt onto you - it was always your decision, not mine. I could just knock heads and walk away clean.

"Don’t look at me, I'm just doing what I'm told." Might as well have tattooed it on my chest.
And then you left.

Without you there, I knew that I was in serious trouble - the poster boy for anger management issues.
Raymond could provide a stable environment, a decent therapist, and money for prescriptions, but... you know Raymond. He's an egghead engineer with a philanthropic streak, not a drill sergeant. And a drill sergeant was what I needed.

I needed structure and discipline in a way that he couldn't offer me. I needed a cage to keep myself in line.
So I found myself a cage made of rules, and procedures, and training - Lone Star. Raymond helped me with my application and provided a decent character reference. I got in, and it helped a lot. Lone Star got me where I needed to be.

And now it's all gone. And you're back.
{{GM}}Wu continues stretching.{{/GM}}

Yeah, she was a good one. We were a real team. Joining Lone Star helped me in all sorts of important ways, no doubt about it.

I really embraced being a cop - I studied my ass off. But no matter how hard I worked, I was never more than a model cop with a brutal streak.
There were plenty of assignments that were perfect for a big, mean ork like me. Assignments that would've fed my need to hurt people. But I met Carter about a year in, and she changed things.

She talked about values and goals and priorities and constructing the life that you want to live. She was a real trip.
Yeah, not my thing.
She sounds wise.
She was a cop, a partner, a mentor - and a serious badass when she needed to be, but... yeah, she was a good person, too. She kept me focused.
I know. I think you two would've gotten along, though. I think you shared something - like a world view, maybe.

Carter understood how fucked up the world was but compartmentalized it so she could focus on whatever she was doing at the time. She reminded me of you a lot that way. She kept me focused.
{{GM}}He pauses his stretching for a moment.{{/GM}}

Huh. Never thought about that word as a way to describe her. Wise.

From an outside perspective, I guess you'd say that, but to me she was just... grounded. She knew who she was, where she was, where she was going, and what got her there. Carter understood how the world worked but compartmentalized it so she could focus on making a life for herself that made sense. She kept me focused.
When Raymond asked me to meet him in Hong Kong, I had a feeling I was gonna wind up going off the reservation if I didn't bring Carter along.

And now she's gone, and here I am.
You only took a step off the reservation. You can choose to step back, too.
It might be time to stop looking for someone to hold your leash, Duncan.
We can handle it like we used to. I'll be the brains and you be the muscle.
I say that you honor her memory by showing her how much you've learned.
You sound like her now. With Carter, there was always a choice to be made. A positive action you could take.

{{GM}}Wu folds his arms across his chest and nods to himself, satisfied.{{/GM}}
Man, I wish you'd put that a different way, $(l.firstname), but I get what you're saying. I don't wanna be anyone's attack dog anymore.

{{GM}}Wu folds his arms across his chest and nods to himself, satisfied.{{/GM}}
Yeah, we can - and that's my instinct, but that's not what Carter would say if she were here.

{{GM}}He picks up his flashlight from the bed and checks the battery.{{/GM}}

She's say that the object of the game isn't to go backwards. It's to grow. But no matter what, you're leading this crew, so you get to make the calls.

I just don't intend on going backwards.
{{GM}}Wu's mouth drops open and then curves into a grin. He shakes his head, still smiling.{{/GM}}

I'm sorry, did $(l.firstname) $(l.lastname) just give me sage advice?

Sounds like you did some growing up of your own.
{{GM}}Wu chuckles and hooks his thumbs in his belt.{{/GM}}

I guess I have, yeah. It's about what you were doing before you got thrown into that corp facility.
You said you had a job that was too good to pass up. How'd it go?
It was good until it wasn't. Not something I want to go into.
I passed it up. Not worth talking about.
You said some people had messed with you and you weren't going to let them get away with it. How'd it go?
Let's just say they didn't get away with it and leave it at that.
Let's just say that I got messed with a little harder and call it good.
You said you needed to see a guy about a big deal. How'd it go?
Fabulous. Never actually happened, but the negotiations were fun. Let's drop it.
Deals fall through. It's the nature of business development. Let's move on.
You said that you had a friend who was in a bind but that was all you could say. How'd it go?
Went fine. It was a cake walk, really. Nothing to talk about.
Let's just say we're not friends anymore and leave it at that.
You said you couldn't tell me where you were going. That it was on a need-to-know basis. I get that, but how'd it go?
Can't tell you that either.
Let's just say it went fine, okay?
Whatever you say, $(l.firstname).
...But you didn't tell me. And I guess you won't.
Yeah, all right. I guess that there's still more to say.
{{GM}}He begins moving through some sort of pattern. Might be tai chi.{{/GM}}

I try not to. What are you talking about, exactly?
The squat in the Barrens. On Leary Way.
The time before we moved in with Raymond and Mrs. Malony.
The old gang. Lockjaw, Double-Trey. Those guys.
That least of all. We're not exactly talking about an idyllic youth here, $(l.firstname). Still, it was better than being on the streets.
Sleeping in dumpsters. Running from ghouls. Fighting over scraps.

{{GM}}Wu stops moving. Drifts off for a moment.{{/GM}}

And defending your territory.
If we hadn't found that the place on Leary - found Lockjaw and Double-Trey - we probably wouldn't be here.

Why were you thinking about back then?
Oh. The dark times. We're not exactly talking about an idyllic youth here, $(l.firstname).
If we hadn't found that spot in the abandoned building - found Lockjaw and Double-Trey - we probably wouldn't be here. So weird to think about that now. I mean, you realize they were teenagers, right? Younger than Gobbet. They felt so old back then. But Lockjaw couldn't have been more than seventeen, tops. And Double-Trey... Double-Trey was only thirteen when...

{{GM}}Wu pauses again, lost in thought.{{/GM}}

Why were you thinking about back then?
You realize that old gang you're talking about were teenagers, right? Younger than Gobbet. Man, they felt so old back then. But Lockjaw couldn't have been more than seventeen, tops. And Double-Trey... Double-Trey was only thirteen when...

{{GM}}Wu stops moving. Drifts off for a moment.{{/GM}}

Why were you thinking of them?
I miss the clarity of that life. Scrounge for food. Defend your squat. Watch each other's backs.
Just thinking about that thing DT used to say.
I don't know. Guess I was thinking about anywhere but Hong Kong.
{{GM}}Wu returns to his patterns. He manipulates an imaginary soap bubble between his hands.{{/GM}}

Clarity, huh? We were living between the Red Hot Nukes and the 162s. Crazy-ass dwarf anarchists on one side and flesh-eating ghouls on the other.

Those are the days that you long for?
Long for? No. I was just thinking that it's the same now as it was back then.
Our priorities were simple.
It was you and me, Duncan. Those other guys were important, but it was always about you and me.
{{GM}}His raspy baritone fills the space between you. Bridges it.{{/GM}}

Survive and watch each other's backs. Yeah, I know.
{{GM}}Wu returns to his patterns. He manipulates an imaginary soap bubble between his hands.{{/GM}}

Improvise. Adapt. Overcome. That's how you beat the street.

I remember.
I remember Double-Trey saying that. It was while we were living between the Red Hot Nukes and the 162s. Crazy-ass dwarf anarchists on one side and flesh-eating ghouls on the other.

Those are the days that you long for?
{{GM}}Wu returns to his patterns. He manipulates an imaginary soap bubble between his hands.{{/GM}}

Yeah, well, going back in time isn't uncovering a lot of great memories for me. We were living between the Red Hot Nukes and the 162s. Crazy-ass dwarf anarchists on one side and flesh-eating ghouls on the other.

Those are the days that you long for?
Yeah, later would be good. Don't get me wrong, catching up is nice, but I'm not used to being as social as this.

That's one of the reasons why it was so nice to work under Carter. We both appreciated long silences.
Sorry, man. She seemed like good people.
Hey, if you'd rather I didn't come by any more...
I'll clear out, then. Give you your personal space.
It's all good. She's gone, and I've accepted that. I guess it's just been a big day, is all.

Anyway, good talk. I'll catch up with you later.
Did I say that? No.

There's a difference between "I don't feel like talking right now" and "never speak to me again," $(l.firstname). It's subtle, but I think that you can find it if you try.
All right, smartass. I'll catch up with you later. Enjoy your quiet time.
I dunno, Duncan. I'm pretty slow.
You can say that again.

{{GM}}His lip curls into a smile.{{/GM}}

Oh, and... good talk, $(l.firstname). I'll catch up with you later.
Thanks. I'll bask in it.

Oh, and... good talk, $(l.firstname). I'll catch up with you later.
Sure. You know where to find me.

Right by the fishy smell.
From the Chinese menu that Kindly Cheng puts in front of us, yeah.

And we can leave any time we want, right?
{{GM}}He gives you a lopsided grin.{{/GM}}

Forget it. Doesn't matter. This is about finding out what happened to Raymond.
I've never heard a story where a shadowrunner did something other than kill someone, steal something, or perpetrate some other sort of shady shit.
But good luck with that.
Way to underestimate yourself.

That's exactly what I used to say before I met Carter. She convinced me to apply to the academy. Work my way up the chain.

I mean, you're right. Money comes bigger and faster when you're a runner, but your life span is shorter by what? More than half, probably. The trade-off doesn't really seem worth it.

And at the end of the day, what are you?
But for how long?

I mean, I'm *with you* - I love the danger. It jacks me like nothing else could. Makes me feel like I'm not just drifting from one useless experience to the next.
But our life span is shorter by what? More than half, probably. The trade-off doesn't really seem worth it.

And at the end of the day, what are you?
{{GM}}Wu grins briefly, and his old feral intensity surfaces for a moment. Then his jaw sets, and his eyes become guarded.{{/GM}}

I'm not that person anymore. Brutality isn't a path for me to go down. It's a cliff for me to nose-dive off of.
And for what? Odds are, nothing but a much shorter life span. The trade-off doesn't really seem worth it to me.

And at the end of the day, what are you?
Most people don't want to know how the sausage is made.

Shit's fucked up bad. You can see it, right there from the outside. No need to look beneath the casing to see what's inside. You're not gonna like it.

And even if you're the type that *needs* to know, the type that can't help but look into the abyss - what do you get out of it?
Odds are, you get nothing but a much shorter life span. The trade-off doesn't really seem worth it to me.

And at the end of the day, what are you?
Carter said that an unexamined life isn't worth living.

{{GM}}He smirks.{{/GM}}

Well, whatever you get out of it, I doubt the trade-off's worth the shorter life span.

And at the end of the day, what are you?
Don't misplace your anger. This isn't Raymond's fault. Whoever took him...

{{GM}}He makes eye contact with you, acknowledges that an alternative is possible.{{/GM}}

...Or killed him... they're the ones to blame.
And I'm gonna find out who they are.
And they're the ones who are gonna pay.
Maybe. But Ray's the one who got us into this.
Damn right. And so am I.

{{GM}}He picks up an ammo box and begins using it like a dumbbell.{{/GM}}

You seem like a natural at leading this crew, $(l.firstname). But I still don't completely understand.

What do you get out of being a shadowrunner?
Damn right.

{{GM}}He picks up an ammo box and begins using it like a dumbbell.{{/GM}}

You seem like a natural at leading this crew, $(l.firstname). But I still don't completely understand.

What do you get out of being a shadowrunner?
If I'm right and he's alive, we'll be the ones to get him *out of it.*

{{GM}}He picks up an ammo box and begins using it like a dumbbell.{{/GM}}

You seem like a natural at leading this crew, $(l.firstname). But I still don't completely understand.

What do you get out of being a shadowrunner?
Same here. I may look like I belong here, but I feel like a complete outsider.
Regardless, you're good at running this crew, $(l.firstname). But I still don't completely understand.

{{GM}}He picks up an ammo box and begins using it like a dumbbell.{{/GM}}

What do you get out of being a shadowrunner?
I get that. Me, too. That's one of the reasons I'm moving through my routine. It helps me center myself.
Still think he's alive?
I'm not sure anymore.
Good. We keep running. Keep looking.
Good enough for me. We keep running. Keep looking.
Not sure means that there's still hope. Good enough for me. We keep running. Keep looking.
Still think he's dead?
Good to know. I still believe he's alive. And I'm gonna keep believing it until I see a corpse.

Until then, we keep running. Keep looking.
That's an improvement over no. We keep running. Keep looking.
{{GM}}He picks up an ammo box and begins using it like a dumbbell.{{/GM}}

By the way, I gotta tell you - you're good at running this crew, $(l.firstname). But there's something I still don't completely understand.

What do you get out of being a shadowrunner?
Well, I gotta tell you - you're good at running this crew, $(l.firstname).

But there's something I still don't completely understand.

{{GM}}He picks up an ammo box and begins using it like a dumbbell.{{/GM}}

What do you get out of being a shadowrunner?
Yeah? I'm not convinced.

You're different, $(l.firstname). You've grown. And you're good at running this crew, too. But there's something I still don't completely understand.

{{GM}}He picks up an ammo box and begins using it like a dumbbell.{{/GM}}

What do you get out of being a shadowrunner?
Good to see you.

{{GM}}Wu smiles.{{/GM}}

Now leave me alone. I got stuff to think about.
You enter to find Wu stalking the floor silently, one hand held rigidly near his hip, the other flexing and unflexing again and again.

When he notices you, he nods once and goes back to his caged panther routine.
You're gonna wear a hole in the floor that way.
{{GM}}Wu keeps pacing.{{/GM}}

Need something?
Yeah, a drink. Looks like you could use one, too.
I need to know that you're not gonna go a rampage soon.
Are you going to be okay?
I hear Club 88 has two-for-ones between four and six o'clock - but you'll have to drink 'em both. I don't put drugs or alcohol into my body.
What an amazing specimen you are. So pure. So manly.
Anymore, you mean. You don't put crap into your body *anymore.*
I'm just gonna let that go. I take it you're stewing about Josephine Tsang?
Drop it. We both know what can happen when I drink.

I don't need my judgment impaired like that anymore.
That's right. I'll own that. *Anymore.*

I don't need my judgment impaired like that *anymore.* We both know what can happen when I drink.
That's right. I'm thinking about what she did to our family. What she did to Carter.

{{GM}}His pace increases a bit.{{/GM}}

It's time for the old Duncan to come out and play.
See this? This pacing? This is how I *don't* go on a complete rampage.

No, this shit is gonna be controlled.
Yep. Just trying to maintain.

Pacing helps.
Been thinking about Josephine Tsang. What she did to our family. What she did to Carter.

{{GM}}His pace increases a bit, and his tusks jut forward slightly.{{/GM}}

Josephine Tsang. Goddamn Josephine Tsang.
And?
Don't fixate on her, Wu.
We'll find a way to get her, Duncan.
And how I'm going to make her pay for it.
All that thinking and pacing, and that's what you came up with? That you're gonna make her pay for it?
*We're* going to make her pay for it, Duncan. *We.*
I was thinking of all the *ways* I could make her pay.
Easy, Duncan.
Don't go down a dark hole, boy.
Come up with anything fun?
{{GM}}Wu's mouth becomes a straight line.{{/GM}}

That's what Carter used to say.

Not this time, $(l.firstname). This time, the old Duncan is coming out to play.
It's not a dark hole. I'm just adapting to the situation. The old Duncan is coming out to play.
Oh yeah. I can be creative when I want to. The old Duncan is coming out to play.
Of course, we. What did I say?

No, it's us, $(l.firstname). There's no way I could figure out what's going on without you.

Besides, I want you there when the old Duncan comes out to play.
Don't patronize me, $(l.firstname). The woman hurt us. Hurt me.

Now the old Duncan is coming out to play.
Try not to lecture me, $(l.firstname). And this isn't me being fixated. I'm *focused.*

You heard Kindly Cheng. The woman is ruthless. And we have our *own* evidence of that, don't we? She hurt us. Hurt me.

Now the old Duncan is coming out to play.
Good. Because when we do, the old Duncan is coming out and play.
{{GM}}Wu's eyes smolder.{{/GM}}

Here's what we do. We walk into Tsang headquarters and ask for the boss. When she comes down, we grab her, take her somewhere quiet, and ask her why she had Carter and those runners killed. Find out what happened to Raymond - whether he's alive or dead.

What happens next is up to her.
Kidnap a member of the Hong Kong Executive Council while there's an APB out on us?
I think the direct method will result in a quick death.
Good thinking. Thanks. I'll consider it.
It's bold. They'll never see it coming.

This is the way to go. My way.
They'll never see it coming. That's why the plan's so beautiful.

This is the way to go. My way.
Think about it, $(l.firstname)! They'll never see it coming.

This is the way to go. My way.
Whoa. Did you just say that?
"My way," Duncan?
Now where have I heard *that* before?
Yeah, what?

There's only one way this'll go...

{{GM}}He catches himself. Understanding appears in his eyes.{{/GM}}

Oh, crap. That's what Ray used to say.
Yeah, my way.

There's one way this is gonna go...

{{GM}}He catches himself. Understanding appears in his eyes.{{/GM}}

Oh, crap. That's what Ray used to say.
What? My way?

That's right. There's one way this is gonna go...

{{GM}}He catches himself. Understanding appears in his eyes.{{/GM}}
Oh, crap.

That's what Ray used to say.
Raymond Black, our benevolent dictator.

No questioning his rules. No falling short of his expectations. It was his way or the wrong way.
Or you'd get the full-on Raymond treatment.
Raymond could be pretty harsh when we didn't live up to his standards.
You fell on the wrong side of his rules more than once.
I didn't care to be on the receiving end of *that.* And I was, more than once, that's for sure.

You remember what happened a few years after we moved out of the squat and into his house? The thing with Double-Trey and Lockjaw, when he accused us of relapsing back into our old ways?
Man, that was when Ray's authority finally got tested.

{{GM}}His raspy baritone is tinged with satisfaction.{{/GM}}

When I finally stood up to him.
Yup. The way he handled that was part of the reason I eventually left. He just wouldn't listen.
He could be pretty damn rigid. But then again, you both could be.
He couldn't hear a word you were saying. I'd never seen him so angry.
I thought that might have been part of it. But to be fair, I wasn't listening either. That was our pattern, wasn't it?

I wouldn't listen, he wouldn't listen, then we butted heads. Rinse and repeat once every few weeks.

{{GM}}He smiles, but it's filled with regret.{{/GM}}

But that time was the worst.
Yeah, I know. I've been working on it, but I definitely still have my moments.

Ray and I had our little pattern, didn't we?

I wouldn't listen, he wouldn't listen, then we butted heads. Rinse and repeat once every few weeks.

{{GM}}He smiles, but it's filled with regret.{{/GM}}

But that time was the worst.
It was a sight to behold, that's for sure.

I didn't listen, he didn't listen, then we butted heads. Same as always.

{{GM}}He smiles, but it's filled with regret.{{/GM}}

But that one was the worst. Good thing you were there to stop it.
{{GM}}His face settles into an expression of resignation.{{/GM}}

Okay, $(l.honorific) $(l.lastname), we don't need to do things *my way.*

No need for *us* to butt heads.
{{GM}}He stretches. You can hear his joints crack.{{/GM}}

...And on that note, I'm gonna have to ask you to clear out. It's been another long day.
I'm getting the feeling that they're all gonna be long days.
You think this is bad? Try prison.
Yeah, I hear ya. Later, Duncan.
Yeah. I'm getting that feeling, too.

Anyway, have a good night, $(l.firstname). I'll catch you tomorrow.
Y'know what? I'd rather not. I've put enough people away to know what it's like on the inside.

Anyway, have a good night, $(l.firstname). I'll catch you tomorrow.
Catch you then, $(l.firstname).
Oh man, do you *think?!*

You remember what happened a few years after we moved out of the squat and into his house? The thing with Double-Trey and Lockjaw, when he accused us of relapsing back into our old ways?
Oh, hell yes. It took me a long time to straighten out and fly right. Do things Raymond's way.

You remember what happened a few years after we moved out of the squat and into his house? The thing with Double-Trey and Lockjaw, when he accused you and me of relapsing back into our old ways?
You say that a lot.
I need some time to process.
You find Wu sitting on his bed and staring at the floor when you come to his cabin. He rubs his head up and back, occasionally stopping to softly bounce his palm against his forehead.

When he notices you, he closes his eyes and shakes his head.
Not in the mood to talk right now. I gotta wrap my brain around this Edward Tsang thing.
Tough finding out Raymond isn't who we thought he was.
Let's talk about something else, then.
Maybe you should just put it out of your mind for now, Duncan.
Yeah, that's pretty much what I was thinking.

Sixteen years. We lived with him sixteen years and we never knew the man.

Sixteen motherfucking years.
I just gotta think. Work through this.
Not right now, $(l.firstname). I don't want to talk about our last run or the Walled City or the triads or anything else.

I just gotta think. Work through this.
That's not the way it works with me, $(l.firstname). You know that. I can't avoid thinking about stuff when it gets lodged in my head.

I just gotta think. Work through this.
{{GM}}Wu clenches his jaw.{{/GM}}

Sixteen years. We lived with him sixteen years and we never knew the man.

Sixteen motherfucking years.
{{GM}}He drops his gaze to the floor again.{{/GM}}

Talk to you later.
You walk into a mess. Half-eaten cans of food litter the floor, and personal equipment is strewn about in a haphazard fashion. Amid the mess, Wu sits in his bunk with his back against the wall. He has a PDA in his hands, and he's staring down at it, sullen and morose.

He doesn't acknowledge your entry.
Want me to come back later?
Now it's your turn to look like shit.
We have stuff to talk about.
Doesn't matter.

{{GM}}He doesn't look up.{{/GM}}

Go, stay. Whatever.
...I assume that you're here to talk.
You know that's not true.

{{GM}}He doesn't look up.{{/GM}}

You think something could make *this?* look bad?

{{GM}}He waves his hand towards his face and along his body. No smile.{{/GM}}
...I suppose you want to talk.
Do we?

{{GM}}He doesn't look up.{{/GM}}

Whatever.
...Go ahead, then. Talk.
Come on... what'd you think about that last run?
What are you looking at on the PDA?
I changed my mind. Show me the video of Edward Tsang.
Been thinking about the way you and Raymond used to butt heads.
A video. Of Edward Tsang.
Can I see it?
Where'd you get it?
Put it away.
Sure. Why not?

{{GM}}Wu taps a button and turns the PDA around so you can see it.{{/GM}}
The footage shows a serious Chinese man in an expensive suit sitting behind a large solid-wood desk covered in blueprints. The man is holding a magnifying glass over one of the plans and studying it intently. He folds the blueprint over and checks the one beneath it.

The nameplate on the desk reads, "Edward Tsang - Vice President of Special Projects."
The video is rough and contains no sound. It may have been footage for a documentary that was never completed.
The next shot is from some sort of planning meeting in a glass-enclosed conference room. The serious man is sitting at the conference table, pointing to a large map and looking up at the men standing around him. He is explaining something. They look at each other and nod, clearly impressed by what he has to say.

The whiteboard at the end of the room bears the words, "Groundbreaking - 21st May, 2022," written in bold characters. Raymond's writing.
The footage cuts to a scene of two people talking at the end of a long hallway. They don't appear to know that they're being recorded. It's the serious man, listening intently to what an older woman has to say, nodding with his arms crossed and his thumb at his lips.

The woman is the same one that was in the tapped video call that Kindly Cheng showed you. Josephine Tsang. She is somewhere in her late middle age, beautiful, and very clearly in charge.
The two look up at the same time, see the camera, and begin waving their hands for it to be turned off. The woman appears angry but cold.

The video ends, and Wu puts the PDA facedown on his bunk.
{{GM}}Wu shrugs his shoulders, searches your eyes.{{/GM}}

Who *is* that guy?
Edward Tsang - Vice President of Special Projects for Tsang Mechanical Services.
The guy who cleaned us up. Gave us a home.
I don't know anymore.
Yeah, that's what it looks like, but I still don't believe it. Maybe when we find the Plastic-Faced Man, we'll get some more answers. Until then, he stays Raymond Black to me.
Not this guy. This guy's some corporate big shot. The man who raised me was a community organizer. He wore sweaters. Maybe when we find the Plastic-Faced Man, we'll get some more answers.

Until then, Raymond Black is Raymond Black, and this guy... is someone else.
Yeah. Me either. Maybe when we find the Plastic-Faced Man, we'll get some answers.

Until then, Raymond Black is Raymond Black, and this guy... is someone else.
Is0bel dug it up. It's archival footage from the Walled City project.
What's he like?
What's he doing?
Younger. I mean, it's from twenty years ago, but he looks a *lot* younger.

And rich. And powerful.
Being Raymond. Telling people what to do. How to do it.

Except he's younger. And he's rich and powerful.
And his name is Edward.

{{GM}}He glances up. His eyes are rimmed in red.{{/GM}}

Do you want to see it?
Yeah. Fire it up.
Nah. I don't need to.
I get it. Wish I hadn't seen it.

That all you want?
Fine with me. It was just some footage of him being young and rich and powerful.

That all you want?
I never really had that problem with him.
I think that's one of the reasons you were angry with me when I left. I had a better relationship with him.
Nothing. Never mind.
Of course not. You knew how to avoid conflict with him. And you had that way of defusing him when he started with that Intense-O-Ray thing he used to do. Remember?
You didn't have a better relationship with him. Raymond and I were tight.

You just knew how to avoid conflict better than I did. That's not the same thing. You had that way of defusing him when he started with that Intense-O-Ray thing he used to do. Remember?
Intense-O-Ray. I haven't thought of that in a long time.
Seriously? I think you were the one who came up with that name. It was like the summer after we started living with him and Mrs. Malony.

Ray'd found out that we hadn't followed one of his rules. I don't remember which. There was a long list.
I think you were the one who came up with that name. It was like the summer after we started living with him and Mrs. Malony.

Ray'd found out that we hadn't followed one of his rules. I don't remember which. There was a long list.
You'd bought some Nerps. He hated crap like that.
I think you were still smoking.
That was when he found out you'd broken his "No Dating Until You Graduate" rule.
No, that wasn't it. I think he caught me smoking.

Yeah, that's right. I was smoking, and he was pissed and said that fat kids who smoke die faster. So just to be obstinate, I told him I *liked* to smoke, and we got into it. Then you came in and defused the whole situation.
Yeah, I think that was it.

I was smoking, and he was pissed and said that fat kids who smoke die faster. So just to be obstinate, I told him I *liked* to smoke, and we got into it. Then you came in and defused the whole situation.
No, it wasn't about David. That was the following summer.

I think it was about smoking.
Yeah, that's right. I was smoking, and he was pissed and said that fat kids who smoke die faster. So just to be obstinate, I told him I *liked* to smoke, and we got into it. Then you came in and defused the whole situation.
{{GM}}Wu stops talking, and his expression becomes thoughtful.{{/GM}}

I think that's why I was so resentful when you took off. Especially after Mrs. Malony died. You were the only one who could get through to him when he became Intense-O-Ray.
I remember the last time. It was when Double-Trey got taken.
Like the day the 162s decided they wanted our squat.
I did have a talent for getting Raymond to calm down when you two started going at it.
I don't want to talk about that right now, $(l.firstname).

I've got enough on my mind as it is. Stuff like my father betraying my trust.
Especially that last time. The week you left.

{{GM}}Wu's expression hardens, and he picks up the PDA again.{{/GM}}

I don't want to talk anymore, $(l.firstname). I've got enough on my mind as it is. Stuff like my father betraying my trust.
Fine. Good talk.

{{GM}}He pauses for a moment, scowling. Then gives his head an agitated shake.{{/GM}}

No. Y'know what? It's *not* fine. You were gonna say something, and I wanna hear you say it.
All right. I didn't have the same problems with Raymond that you did.
You were pissed with me when I left because I had a better relationship with Raymond than you did.
You're a hothead, and Raymond's stubborn. That's why you had so many problems with him.
Yeah. That's probably true. You knew how to avoid conflict with the man in a way that I never did.

And you had that way of defusing him when he started with that Intense-O-Ray thing he used to do. Remember?
Suit yourself. And before you ask, yes, I'm good to go for our next run.

{{GM}}He buries his head in the PDA again.{{/GM}}

I'm a professional shadowrunner now.
The clanking of metal followed by grunts from hard exercise erupt from the hatchway of Wu's cabin.The first thing you notice when you enter is its renewed cleanliness. The food cans are gone, and his equipment is neatly laid out on his bedding. Everything in its place.

The next thing you notice is the smell. It's like a middle-school locker room in July.
{{GM}}Wu finishes his jumping jacks and grabs a towel off his bunk. His exposed flesh gleams with perspiration.{{/GM}}

Hey.
Hey. How's it going?
Wu! Open a porthole! This place reeks!
Better.

{{GM}}He scrubs his sweaty head with the towel.{{/GM}}

I let myself wallow for a while, but now it's time to turn things around. We have work to do.
What's your deal?
Do you *see* a porthole, $(l.firstname)? This is an interior cabin. Not the best for ventilation.

But I don't think you came by to check on my hygiene.
Still thinking about Edward Tsang?
We're getting close to the Plastic-Faced Man, Duncan.
You told me you were resentful when I took off. But maybe it was about how Raymond handled that thing with Double-Trey.
I wanna get back into it, Duncan. The Double-Trey story, for real this time.
{{GM}}He rubs the towel under his arms.{{/GM}}

Compartmentalized him. Edward Tsang is a topic in a file cabinet in my head.

I'm only thinking about Raymond now - finding out what happened to him. What *really* happened to him.
Taking it a moment at a time, huh?
That's me. Mister Focus.

{{GM}}He continues stretching.{{/GM}}
More than ever.

Raymond's alive. I'm sure of it.

{{GM}}He continues stretching.{{/GM}}
I know. I haven't stopped thinking about him since we first saw him in that video. The one where he attacked Raymond in the teahouse.

{{GM}}He wipes down one side his neck with the towel. Folds it. Wipes down the other side.{{/GM}}

Listen, $(l.firstname), I'm not gonna press you to take me with you when you head out to snatch him.
You take the right people for the job and then you get the job *done,* okay?

But I want to be there when you interrogate him. I want to hear what he has to say with my own ears.

Are you gonna have a problem with that?
Sorry, Wu, interrogation time is for the big kids.
No, of course not.
As long as the extraction team remains my decision, I have no trouble with you being at the interrogation.
Fuck you, $(l.firstname). You can take me with you on the run or not - your call. But I intend to be there for the fun part.
Good. You're my sister. I'd hate to have to mess you up.

{{GM}}He flashes his pearly whites.{{/GM}}

Like I said, you can take me with you on the run or not - it's your call. But I intend to be there for the fun part.
Good. We're brothers. I'd hate to have to mess you up.

{{GM}}He flashes his pearly whites.{{/GM}}

Like I said, you can take me with you on the run or not - it's your call. But I intend to be there for the fun part.
Very generous of you.

{{GM}}He flashes his pearly whites.{{/GM}}

Like I said, you can take me with you on the run or not - it's your call. But I intend to be there for the fun part.
Fun part? You think this is a game?
Oh, we'll *both* have fun with Mr. Plastic Face.
Easy, Duncan. This is about Raymond, not hurting people for kicks.
Do I *look* like an idiot?

{{GM}}He drops his towel on his bunk.{{/GM}}

No. I don't think this is a game. This is the guy who knows what the hell is going on. The one who may have killed Raymond. And I'm gonna squeeze him until I find out what he knows.
Good. Let's go to town on him together.

{{GM}}He drops his towel on his bunk.{{/GM}}

This is the guy who knows what the hell is going on. The one who may have killed Raymond. I'm gonna squeeze him until I find out what his fucking *ancestors* know.
Knock off the "Easy, Duncan" crap, $(l.firstname). I'm not doing anything for "kicks."

{{GM}}He drops his towel on his bunk.{{/GM}}

This is the guy who knows what the hell is going on. The one who may have killed Raymond. And I'm gonna squeeze him until I find out what he knows.
You'll squeeze *whom* I tell you to *when* I tell you to and as *hard* as I tell you to. Got it?
We'll do what we've gotta do to get the answers we need.
Just promise me that you'll be able to control yourself. Otherwise, we *are* going to have a problem.
I got it.

{{GM}}Wu drops his hands to his sides and closes the gap between you. His voice is calm. Sober. Deliberate.{{/GM}}

I really got it.

This is Raymond we're talking about. I'm not gonna screw anything up.
This is Raymond we're talking about.

{{GM}}Wu drops his hands to his sides and closes the gap between you. His voice is calm. Sober. Deliberate.{{/GM}}

I'm not gonna screw this up. I promise.
Nah, it was about you disappearing for eight years without a word. But we're past that now.

{{GM}}Wu pulls his right elbow across his chest with his left hand. Gets a good stretch.{{/GM}}

But that *was* a messed-up night. A lot of things happened, and I wouldn't be surprised if some... I don't know... emotions got jumbled together.
About the fight with Raymond?
Stuff about the old gang?
Feelings about the way I handled things?
Yeah, mostly. We'd butted heads before - I'd broken plenty of his rules in the past - but I'd never seen him so... disappointed. I'm still not sure why.
That was part of it, sure. I'm still carrying that around.

But mostly it was about Raymond.

We'd butted heads before - I'd broken plenty of his rules in the past - but I'd never seen him so... disappointed. I'm still not sure why. Never figured it out.
Why don't you walk through it from the beginning? Start with when Lockjaw showed up at Ray's house.
We can drop this if you want.
{{GM}}Wu pulls his left elbow across his chest and lets out a little groan.{{/GM}}

Uh... so this was 2045 - years after the summer we moved in with Raymond. We hadn't seen DT or Lockjaw or any of the gang in forever. Raymond's rules. No contact with our hoodlum friends. No visiting the squat to check up on them.
Right. He insisted on a clean break.
We weren't even allowed to see that Aztlan family and their dog.
"Your past is just a story. If you can accept that, your past loses all power over you."
Exactly. He wanted us focused on our future, not bogged down in past mistakes.
You and that damn dog. I swear you two should have moved in together and left us out of it.
{{GM}}Wu wrinkles his nose.{{/GM}}

You don't sound anything like him.
The way I remember it, we woke up in the middle of the night and there was Lockjaw, standing in our room, covered in blood. My first thought was that Raymond was gonna kill us. Can you imagine? There's a teenage Salish Indian covered in blood in our bedroom, and my first thought was that I might get in trouble for it.
We'd just started our new life. We were safe for the first time ever. We didn't want to blow it.
Raymond was an intimidating guy when we were young.
I know *I* didn't want to go back to the Barrens. We had it good at Raymond's.

{{GM}}Wu throws his elbow behind him. Twists at the waist.{{/GM}}
Isn't that weird? I *towered* over him! And it just didn't matter.

The little man just had that *way* of looking at you. That *tone.*

{{GM}}Wu throws his elbow behind him. Twists at the waist.{{/GM}}
So Lockjaw's bleeding all over our bedroom and you're whisper-yelling, "Where's DT? What happened to Double-Trey?"

Five minutes later, we're dressed in black and on our way back to the Barrens.
We had to.
What the hell were we thinking?
Of course. If it wasn't for Double-Trey, neither of us would be here right now. DT was the one who took us to the Teen Center. Introduced us to Raymond.
We were thinking that we owed those guys. DT was the one who took us to the Teen Center. Introduced us to Raymond.
Man, that was a messed up night.

The 162s had overrun the Leary squat. Better position to take on the Nukes. Benzo and Tusk were bleeding out... the Hernandez Family was half-eaten... and Li'l Joe, that street walker with the electric false eyelashes, was lying on the floor in two parts.
But we got Double-Trey out alive.
This is really about when we got back home.
He was the only one, though.

{{GM}}Wu stares at his boot.{{/GM}}

I can still hear Lockjaw screaming as the ghouls took him down. When the 162s wanted something, they did not play.
Anyway, all of that was just lead up.

{{GM}}He lets out a long slow breath.{{/GM}}

But still, it speaks to *my* state of mind that night. Why I wouldn't back down when Raymond met us at the door.
True. All of that was just lead up. But still, it speaks to *my* state of mind that night. Why I wouldn't back down when Raymond met us at the door.
You two really went at it.
Neither one of you would budge.
We both had the strength of the righteous. You and I had broken his rules out of loyalty. Out of gratitude.

He just didn't get that.
He never understood where we came from.
But can you see it from his perspective?
And now we know why. He wasn't just some do-gooder who took in some street kids. He was a rich guy used to getting his way.

That's what made him so *furious.*
That's the way I see it, too.
I don't know, Duncan. I think it's because he thought we were playing him.
I never thought of it that way before.

{{GM}}Wu rubs his head, thinking.{{/GM}}

He didn't just think we had broken his rules or that we'd backslid. He thought that we were still street hoods. That we were milking him - using him. No wonder he was so angry.

He felt betrayed.
*Now* I can, yeah.

{{GM}}Wu rubs his head, thinking.{{/GM}}

He didn't just think we had broken his rules or that we'd backslid. He thought that we'd been playing him the whole year. That we were still street hoods. No wonder he was so furious.

He felt betrayed.
But you... you were able to get him to calm down and see reason. Get him to see my side of the story. And all you said was that one thing. That thing he said his mother used to say to *him* when he was being obstinate.

What the hell was it?
“Most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply.”
"He understands badly who listens badly."
"Listen to what you know instead of what you fear."
“Most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply.”

{{GM}}Wu nods his head, remembering.{{/GM}}

Yeah, that "intent to reply" thing really got to him. He saw that every time I was talking, he was thinking of the next thing to say back.
"He understands badly who listens badly."

{{GM}}Wu nods his head, remembering.{{/GM}}

Yeah, that "listens badly" thing really got to him. He was really ashamed of himself for flying off the handle.
"Listen to what you know instead of what you fear."

{{GM}}Wu nods his head, remembering.{{/GM}}

Yeah, that "what you fear" thing really got to him. Still not sure why.
Using his mother's words on him really did the trick. I wonder what kind of childhood *he* had.

{{GM}}He rubs his chin.{{/GM}}

But the way he looked at you after that...
I know. I think that may have been part of why I left.
We were never the same.
Crazy. He was *furious* with you, but all I did is quote his mother and I got the big chill.
Yeah, I get it. We're cool now.

And as for Edward Tsang...
Yeah. Well, look - you and I are cool now.

And as for Edward Tsang...
Maybe he's got mommy issues.

{{GM}}Wu chuckles humorlessly.{{/GM}}

And who knows? Maybe I've got a few daddy issues to deal with, too.

Guess I should try and keep an open mind... when we see him.
{{GM}}Wu looks relieved. Seems like he's had enough self-reflection for a lifetime.{{/GM}}

You sure?
No sweat. We can talk about it when we're back in Seattle.
I dunno, Duncan. Maybe not. This kind of thing can bite you in the ass if you ignore it long enough.
Okay, if you say so.
Yeah... yeah, I get it. We're here now. Who knows when we'll get another chance at this.
Anytime.
Hey, $(l.firstname). I got some things I gotta take care of here.

Let's talk later.
I'm gonna exercise a bit, $(l.firstname). Helps me clear my head.

Come back later and we'll talk.
Bad timing, $(l.firstname). I think I ate something that was... off. Still can't get used to the food here.

Come back later when my digestive system's more agreeable.
I just want to be left alone right now. I gotta think.
I don't know, $(l.firstname). I've had enough of ghouls for one lifetime. The Barrens were full of 'em.

Remember what the 162s did to that Aztlaner family that lived by the old Town Center? Remember how we *found* them?
It's not the kind of thing you forget. Toothmarks in the bones, and all that.
Sure, but in all fairness, they were asking for it. They were keeping second-hand organs in a walk-in freezer... I mean, what'd they expect?
I put it behind me. You should do the same.
{{GM}}His face goes white as a sheet.{{/GM}}

Yeah. Made my stomach turn. Nobody deserves to go out like that.

I dunno, $(l.firstname). I don't think I'll ever get comfortable with having a ghoul on our crew.
Yeah, but still. Nobody deserves to go out like *that.*

{{GM}}He grimaces.{{/GM}}

I dunno, $(l.firstname)... I don't think I'll ever get comfortable with having a ghoul on our crew.
I guess if was a good thing to help him, though. I'd rather have a ghoul on the team than a ghoul obsessed with vengeance.

Who knows what he would do to get it?
Made sense to keep those Elders alive, by the way. Good call.

We don't know anyone in this country. Seems wise to try and get some allies.
Can't. I've been having nightmares about it since I was a kid. Still makes my skin crawl.

{{GM}}He grimaces.{{/GM}}

I dunno, $(l.firstname)... I don't think I'll ever get comfortable with having a ghoul on our crew.
Oh man, you remember that megatrid movie we snuck into that one time? The one where the mummy took over Chicago?
Yeah. I seem to remember that you kept your eyes shut through most of it.
"Tarim Reborn." Yeah, that was an old favorite.
Not particularly. I probably fell asleep.
{{GM}}He nods.{{/GM}}

That's the one. Completely freaked me out. I slept with the dumpster lid shut for a week.

What a pleasure it was to go on a run that brought back such hideous memories.
I still can't believe that you made a deal with that thing. I mean, it was a *mummy,* $(l.firstname). You don't make deals with mummies!

{{GM}}He cradles his head in his hands.{{/GM}}

Fuck, I can't even believe I just *said* that.
I didn't know that shadowrunners dealt with crap like this.

Can't say I'm a fan, $(l.firstname). Not even a little bit.
At least we got that blade out of it.

Do me a favor and keep it away from me, though. I'm being serious about that.
Yeah, well, it completely freaked me out. I slept with the dumpster lid shut for a week.

What a pleasure it was to go on a run that brought back such hideous memories.
What do I think about it? Well, hmm, let me ponder that for a second...

{{GM}}He begins ticking off items on his fingers.{{/GM}}

...We crashed a fancy party, disturbed the who's who of the Hong Kong trideo scene, and fought a vampire.
And in the end, we didn't even kill the damned vampire. We got a starlet fired for money. That was our big accomplishment.

{{GM}}He shakes his head.{{/GM}}

Makes me miss the simplicity of being a cop.
I guess that we banished the vampire, so that's good. Beyond that, we got a starlet fired for money. That was our big accomplishment.

And before you mention it, *yes,* I know that was the job. But something about it rubbed me the wrong way.
{{GM}}He shakes his head.{{/GM}}

I dunno, $(l.firstname). I guess that I just preferred the simplicity of being a cop.
I guess that we chased away the vampire, so that's something. We didn't do much else, mind you... the starlet is still doing her thing, and I'm sure that Doc Shenyang will be pissed.
We killed the vampire, so that's something. But we didn't get the Wong girl fired, and that was kind of the point of the run.

{{GM}}He shakes his head.{{/GM}}

I dunno, $(l.firstname). I guess that I just preferred the simplicity of being a cop.
...But you took it upon yourself to help the vampire become a vampire queen. *That* was an interesting choice.

Not what Doc Shenyang would want, but what does he know? He's only the guy that's paying us.
Actually, it wasn't bad. Reminded me a little of doing undercover work for the Star. We got to go to a fancy restaurant, do some legwork, blend in, and then take a bad son of a bitch into custody and motor off in a speedboat.

{{GM}}He smiles wistfully.{{/GM}}

Made me feel a little like Detective Dirk Chapel from "BountyHawks." You ever watch that old show on the trid?
Yeah, I saw a few episodes. It was overproduced crap, but it was fun.
Didn't that get canceled about a season in?
Couldn't get into it. The model who played Mia Suede couldn't act her way out of a paper bag.
{{GM}}He huffs indignantly.{{/GM}}

"Overproduced crap"? Don't give me that, it was a great show! The back-and-forth between Chapel and Mia Suede was legendary!

I swear, some people don't know art when they see it.
...Anyway. In all seriousness, I'm not sure that we should've let that Talon guy live. People like that tend to have long memories.

{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

What's done is done, though.
...Anyway. In all seriousness, it went about as well as I can imagine any run going. We got Talon out of the way, and that's good - don't need a bad son of a bitch like that coming back after us later.

I dunno, $(l.firstname). Doesn't always feel right taking people out like that, but it definitely feels like the *smart* thing to do.
The network didn't give it a chance. Kept airing the episodes out of order and moving the time slot around.

{{GM}}He shakes his head sadly.{{/GM}}

It should've had a longer run.
{{GM}}He huffs indignantly.{{/GM}}

That was a *choice,* $(l.firstname). If you'd gotten more than a couple of episodes in, you'd've learned that she was a Bunraku puppet in the beginning, and that her *real* personality was being suppressed.

Man. So many great twists in that show. After this is all over, you should go back and give it a watch - a *real* watch this time.
So I guess we're vandals-for-hire now? Renting ourselves out to tip people's tables and scrawl graffiti on their walls?

I dunno, $(l.firstname). Feels like bush-league Barrens ganger crap to me. The kind of stuff that we outgrew when we were eight.
Hey, it paid well.
Watch who you say that to. People here seem to take feng shui very seriously.
Yeah, but what we did in the Skytower had a purpose. We messed up their qi.
Yeah, and I can't argue with that. I mean, if people in the Free Enterprise Zone are convinced that interior decoration is a matter of life and death, I'm not gonna argue.

It's stupid, but I've taken money for all kinds of stupid things before.
Yeah, I remember when you got that job in the private club on Cleveland Street.
A certain smash-and-grab on a bakery in the Market Pavilion comes to mind...
What you do in your off-time is no business of mine, Officer Wu.
I was young, and I had moves. It paid well for a summer.

{{GM}}He crosses his arms over his chest.{{/GM}}

You're just jealous that they hired me over you.
Bad intel. Nobody told me that the owner let hoop snakes loose in the place after hours.

I mean, who does that? Paranormal snakes in a muffin shop? I barely made it out of there alive.
That's right, it isn't. I need my personal space.

Gotta keep that work-life balance in place, $(l.firstname).
Yeah, tell me about it. I mean, if people in the Free Enterprise Zone are convinced that interior decoration is a matter of life and death, I'm not gonna argue.

It's stupid, but I've taken money for all kinds of stupid things before.
That's what you say. Didn't look like it did much to me.

Anyway, whatever. The client paid us, and that's all that matters. It's stupid, but I've taken money for all kinds of stupid things before.
That was some real cloak-and-dagger shit, wasn't it? Hitting a high-tech weapons research lab, framing a triad for the run, dealing with other shadowrunning teams.

{{GM}}He shakes his head, smiling.{{/GM}}

Oh, and to top it all off, there was a laser gun there. A *laser gun.*
If I didn't know any better, I'd think that you enjoyed yourself.
Getting used to your new life in the shadows, Officer Wu?
Hey, look, as a rule I don't like running the shadows. Given my choice, I'd walk the straight and narrow. But if I'm gonna be a criminal, this is the kind that I wanna be.

The kind with a *laser gun.*
...So I've gotta admit, I was a little sad when you gave the thing to that other team. I mean, I get why you did it - reputation is important, and all that - but that weapon was an asset, too.

{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

I dunno. It was a tough call. Let's hope that you made the right decision.
So yeah. I'm gonna go ahead and put in my request right now: the next run we go on, I wanna take the laser. This is me calling dibs.

{{GM}}He shrugs.{{/GM}}

...And that's all I've got.
Me? Hell no. Given my choice, I'd rather walk the straight and narrow. But if I'm gonna be a criminal, this is the kind that I wanna be.

The kind with a *laser gun.*
What a complete shitshow. I thought that Kindly was supposed to vet our clients to make sure this kind of thing doesn't happen.
You could send her a strongly-worded letter.
I wouldn't bother her right now - she's probably furious. Someone's gonna wind up on a one-way trip to the bottom of Hung Hom Bay.
Yeah, that's part of her job. But no fixer can catch everything.
Thanks for the suggestion, but I'll pass. Don't wanna put the old woman in any more of a killing mood than she's probably in already.
Tigath was our client. I get that. But I wish that we could've given the bastard what was coming to him.

It still feels like I've got a knife in my back. Letting that go unpunished is a damned shame.
Hwang got the data. Can't say that I liked the guy much, but better it go to him than the shitstan that hired us.

Mostly, I'm just happy that Tigath isn't alive and kicking any more. Bastard got what was coming from him, and that doesn't happen nearly enough in this world.
{{GM}}He shakes his head ruefully.{{/GM}}

I don't think I've seen a bloodbath like that since the Barrens. Everyone dead but us.

I'm not saying they didn't deserve it, but... *damn.* I mostly went legit after Raymond took us from the Barrens to stay *away* from massacres like that.
Yeah, and it isn't gonna be me. I'm keeping my distance until all of this has blown over.

All the same, between you and me, it's her own fault. If she hadn't dropped the ball, this wouldn't have happened in the first place.
Oh, come on, $(l.firstname). If she hadn't dropped the ball, none of this would have happened.

I won't say that to her in person, of course. But this is on her, not us.
I don't even know what to say about that, $(l.firstname).

You remember when we were kids, how we'd argue over who'd win in a fight? The Halloweeners versus Tamanous, the Ghosts of Tir Tairngire versus Ares Firewatch.

In our minds, the Renraku Red Samurai always came out on top. And now we've taken out a squad of them.
We're moving up in the world.
Well, to be fair, we had one on our side, too.
The Red Samurai are just people. Well-trained people in combat armor, mind you... but people, all the same.
Yeah, I guess so.

{{GM}}His brow furrows.{{/GM}}

Funny. I don't feel any different than I did before. Just kinda... empty.
Anyway. I guess it's good that we helped Gaichu out. I still don't feel comfortable having the corpse-eater around, but maybe he'll feel a little more indebted to us now than he did before.

I dunno. It's a lot to process. I don't know what else to say.
Yeah, and what a piece of work he is. When he looks at me, I don't know whether he sees a comrade-at-arms or a hot meal.

Makes my skin crawl. Always has, always will.
Yeah, I guess so.

{{GM}}His brow furrows.{{/GM}}

I dunno. I'm not sure what to think any more.
That was the first convention I've ever been to. Heard about 'em, but I'd never been to one.

{{GM}}He shakes his head.{{/GM}}

Some people have too much time on their hands.
Anyway, we got Is0bel her software... or encryption key... or whatever the hell it was that she wanted.

I dunno, $(l.firstname). Somehow, I came out of this feeling like a neighborhood bully shaking down a skinny kid for his lunch. But if it can help us, well... whatever.
You mean extracting the Plastic-Faced Man?

{{GM}}Wu frowns and his answer comes out in a low rasp.{{/GM}}

I knew we'd eventually find that guy but getting the information out of him before he brain-wiped was tense.
{{GM}}He looks at his boots for a minute, making a decision.{{/GM}}

Hey... listen, $(l.firstname). I didn't disagree with you in front of the crew but I wouldn't have let that guy just walk away like that.
Too dangerous to leave him alive?
Because Kindly Cheng said to kill him?
Yeah, well that's why I get the big bucks. I make the hard decisions.
He's a loose end and we don't need those right now. We're in enough trouble as it is. We don't need someone like him walking around.
I don't want to just do whatever we're told but she's gonna be... disappointed. Not sure I want a crime boss disappointed in my right now.
That wasn't a hard decision. It was a dumb one. He's a loose end and we don't need those right now. We're in enough trouble as it is. We don't need someone like him walking around. And Kindly... I don't want to just do whatever we're told but she's gonna be... disappointed. Not sure I want a crime boss disappointed in my right now.

Like I said, we're in enough trouble as it is.
You want to be in charge, Wu?
Dumb or not, it's the decision I made.
Well, we are we are. We'll just have to roll with the consequences.
Thanks for the feedback.
No, $(l.firstname). You're doing just fine. I'm just telling you what I think - privately. I'll get off it now.

{{GM}}He stops, raises a finger.{{/GM}}

Just one more thing - that guy took Raymond. For that alone, I'd drill him.
Yeah, I get it and I have no trouble with you being in the lead. You're doing just fine. I'm just telling you. I'll get off it now.

{{GM}}He stops, raises a finger.{{/GM}}

Just one more thing - that guy took Raymond. For that alone, I'd drill him.
That's all we've *been* doing, $(l.firstname). Seems like all we do.

{{GM}}He stops, raises a finger.{{/GM}}

Just one more thing - that guy took Raymond. For that alone, I'd drill him.
{{GM}}Wu eyes you for a moment, looking for sarcasm.{{/GM}}

Whatever. I just wanted to tell you. I'll get off it now.

{{GM}}He stops, raises a finger.{{/GM}}

Just one more thing - that guy took Raymond. For that alone, I'd drill him.
At least we know that Raymond's alive now.

{{GM}}His lips tighten over his teeth.{{/GM}}

I fucking *knew* it.
I was right there with you.
Yup, you called it.
Now we need to get him out of Prosperity Tower before Grandma reprograms him.
Yeah, I'm glad you had my back on that.
For once.
{{GM}}Wu snorts.{{/GM}}

Been a long time since we ran the streets together, $(l.firstname). Lived in a squat.

I wanna say that if feels like old times, but it doesn't. This is different.
Yeah, we have better guns.
It's the trawler. Smells like fish.
We are definitely through the lookingglass. No question about it.
And no identities.

{{GM}}He shrugs and checks his equipment.{{/GM}}

I'm gonna pack up.
You don't like that? I like it.

{{GM}}He shrugs and checks his equipment.{{/GM}}

I'm gonna pack up.
Did I mention I hate this country? Cuz I hate this country.

{{GM}}He shrugs and checks his equipment.{{/GM}}

I'm gonna pack up.
My gut said that we were being fed a load of bullshit. Glad to be right.
Man, she sounds like a piece of work, doesn't she? Maybe we'll get to say Hi when we bust into her headquarters.

{{GM}}He grabs his goggles off his bunk.{{/GM}}

I wanna see if there's a family resemblance before I drop her.
We got the job done, $(l.firstname). Thanks for including me on the rescue team. Glad I was there when he woke up. It was a relief to see he had his memories intact.

{{GM}}Wu holds his goggles in his hands. Fidgets with them.{{/GM}}

I'm worried about him, though. That way he's talking... it's not good... that stuttering or whatever it is.
You were pretty hard on him.
He seems to be thinking clearly. Hopefully, he'll recover.
I'm worried too. Who knows what his mother did to him while she had him under the knife.
That "you're a coward" shit? Yeah, I was hard on him. Still feel that way, too. Just because I'm worried about him doesn't mean that's going away.

That little man's got a lot to answer for.
He's the only father you've got, Duncan.
He does, that's true. But he's doing his best to make things right.
I'm right there with you.
Yeah, well what about you? What do you think of all this?
I'm still freaked out about what he's done. All the harm he's caused.
Raymond's my father and I'm gonna back him up the best I can.
When this is over, I'm done with Raymond Black.
I dunno. We'll see how this plays out, I guess.
Yeah, tell me about it.

{{GM}}Wu drops a gnarly hand on your shoulder.{{/GM}}

Well, regardless of Raymond or Edward or whoever he is, I'll follow your lead, $(l.firstname).

Best I can commit to.
Okay, if that's the way you feel, I'll support you.

{{GM}}Wu drops a gnarly hand on your shoulder.{{/GM}}

Well, regardless of Raymond or Edward or whoever he is, I'm gonna back *you* up.

Best I can commit to.
What happened to "He's the only father you've got"? The same applies to you, doesn't it?

I'm not just gonna abandon him, $(l.firstname), regardless of what he's done. Raymond's done a lot for us and I'll never forget it.

I said that he's got a lot to answer for and I mean it. I'm holding his feet to the fire when this is over. But you were right - he's the only father we have and until it *is* over, I will do everything I can to help him.
Good to hear you say it, Duncan. That was my plan all along.
Agreed. We help Raymond. Then we hold him accountable.
We'll see, I guess.
Sorry, Duncan. My mind's made up.
Don't try and manipulate me, $(l.firstname). It isn't cool.

Nevertheless, we agree.
Glad we agree. We'll see just have to see what happens, I guess.
Yeah, I guess we will.
Don't be stubborn like Raymond, $(l.firstname). Let's just play this out. See where it leads.
I guess.
I know. I can see it.

{{GM}}Wu rubs his head. Squints.{{/GM}}

This explains a lot - why he was so... distant for all those years. So secretive about his life before Seattle. I thought it was just a Chinese thing. But now I know. It was the guilt... the shame of it.
I wasn't sure Raymond was able to *feel* shame. He was so rigid. So righteous.
He's carried a heavy burden for a long time.
I wonder if he'll ever be able to live with it.
Tell me about it. I was on the receiving end of most of his shit.

But this... this explains a lot.

{{GM}}The hand rubbing his head slows.{{/GM}}

A lot.
Tell me about it. I had no idea...

{{GM}}The hand rubbing his head slows.{{/GM}}

This explains a lot. A lot.
I don't know. That look in his eyes... the pain. I don't know if I could live with that.

{{GM}}The hand rubbing his head slows.{{/GM}}

This explains a lot. A lot.
I thought you might be. Well, regardless of Raymond or Edward or whoever he is, we've got to play this out.

I'll follow your lead, $(l.firstname). Try and correct the old man's mistake. And after that, we'll be done with him.
Yeah, we'll see.

He needs to keep it together if we even hope to turn off that damn machine he made.
Oh crap. You think she planted something in his brain? Some sort of programming that triggers if he gets too close to the Fortune Engine?
I don't know but I'm going to be watching him.
I don't think so. I just meant that she could have messed with his memories some way that we missed.
Yeah. Something that makes him betray us at the last minute.
Fuck.

{{GM}}Wu's eyes bounce around a bit as he works through the scenarios.{{/GM}}

Yeah, okay. Me too. I'll keep my eye open for anything suspicious.
Fuck.

{{GM}}Wu's eyes bounce around a bit as he works through the scenarios.{{/GM}}

Yeah, I guess that's possible. I didn't think of it. I'll keep my eye open for anything suspicious.
Fuck.

{{GM}}Wu's eyes bounce around a bit as he works through the scenarios.{{/GM}}

Yeah, I guess that's possible. I didn't think of it. If it comes down to it, one of us may have to put him down.
Could be. Just stay alert.
You follow my lead on this, Duncan. Take *no action* unless we agree, understand?
Listen Duncan, if you see Raymond behaving oddly - if you think we're in real danger - you do what you've gotta do.
Yeah, I will. No doubt. Hopefully, it'll never come up.

{{GM}}His lips tighten.{{/GM}}

But if it does, we need to be ready.
Yeah, I dig it, $(l.firstname).

{{GM}}His lips tighten.{{/GM}}

You have my word.
Understood, $(l.firstname). I'll do what I gotta do. But if we've gotta do... something drastic... I hope we'll be able to talk about it first.

{{GM}}His lips tighten.{{/GM}}

I don't want to have the wrong on my conscience for the rest of my life
Wasn't on the last run, $(l.firstname). I assume it came out okay since you're here to ask about it.
Anyway, enough about that. Need anything else?
Wasn't there. You kept me on the bench.
I sat that one out, remember $(l.firstname)?
Don't ask me. You didn't take me on that run.
No clue. I wasn't there, remember?
Wasn't on the last run, $(l.firstname).

{{GM}}He sniffs.{{/GM}}

Just stuck around the boat and waited to hear if you got killed or not.
A explosion of acid that does 10 HP DMG, and an ongoing 5 HP DMG. Strips 1 Armor from the target. Lasts 2 RNDS.
Blunt Slash
The basic melee weapon attack. Adds +1 HP to the weapon's DMG.
{{GM}}The acquisitions manager looks at you eagerly.{{/GM}}

Did you get it?
{{GM}}Hand her the data.{{/GM}} Right here.
Yes, perfect. Thank you. As promised, here is the code.

{{GM}}A stroke of fear seems to freeze her.{{/GM}}

I'm... not going to get into any trouble, right? You covered your trail?
Don't worry about it.
{{GM}}The woman before you looks like one very burnt-out suit.{{/GM}}

What do you want?
{{CC}}Charisma: $(scene.alarmCharismaValue_Easy){{/CC}} Don't take this the wrong way, but you look seriously overworked. What's going on? Maybe I can help.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Corporate{{/CC}} From the look of you, I'd say quarterlies are just around the corner. How's your team doing? You need to talk about it?
Maintenance check, $(l.sir). Looking for loose bulbs and clogged ducts.
{{GM}}She chews on her lip, unsure. With a sigh, she speaks.{{/GM}}

Yeah... why not? Doubt I'll ever see you again. I could use a good venting session.
It's the stack ranking here. My team, Contracts & Acquisitions, is in the deep end, but *not* because we're slackers like Sales would have you believe.

{{GM}}The way she bites into the word "Sales" reeks of enmity.{{/GM}}
Because the system isn't based on merit, we're working our asses off over here while Sales doesn't even have to lift a finger. And while they're ranked ahead of us, they're way behind work-wise. But guess what? Tsang doesn't care about it. All they look at are the ranks.
Come this quarterly review, whoever's last in the stack rankings will get demoted. Or worse - sent back to the training pool.

{{GM}}She shudders.{{/GM}}
That's a broken system if I ever heard one.
I'll bet the other team is taking advantage of the situation, too.
Wow. Sucks for you guys.
You don't have to tell me. Sales is reveling in our distress and rubbing their success in our faces. But it's not just that - they're also undermining our work by denying us important data that my team needs in order to hand off our contracts to Tsang upper management. As if the rankings weren't enough...
What if I could get you that data?
Hate to say it, but sometimes that's just the way it is. Sorry you're in a bad way right now, but you'll get over it. Good luck.
{{GM}}She gives you a long look.{{/GM}}

What's in it for you?
Got a work order for the security station here, but I don't have the credentials to access it. I need to complete the project just as much as you need the Sales team's data. Could you get me in there? Think of it as an exchange of services.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Security{{/CC}} I'm here on behalf of Knight Errant to audit of this floor's security station, but Tsang never forwarded me the entry code. If I could find a way inside, I'm sure a certain team's evaluation would benefit from it.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(scene.alarmCharismaValue_Medium){{/CC}} I need into this floor's security station. I'm sure we can arrange something: I'm offering to help you tilt the balance between your team and Sales. What do you think?
Nothing. I just wanted to see how you'd react.
I have the code, but...
But what?
I'm not *supposed* to have it. I technically don't have the credentials, either. I'm kind of... seeing one of the guys in security. He wanted me to have a safe place in case anything ever happened here.
Don't worry. If it comes to it, I'll take the heat.
You're worrying about nothing. I've got this.
Y'know, I think I've changed my mind. You're on your own.
I... I have code. But I'm not *supposed* to have it. I technically don't have the credentials, either. I'm kind of... seeing one of the guys in security. He wanted me to have a safe place in case anything ever happened here.
No worries, ma'am. My contract allows me to protect my sources.
{{GM}}She chews on her lip. Nods.{{/GM}}

Okay. I'll do it. The Sales team's data for the station code - that's the deal.
Oh. I see.

Please keep it down, we're trying to work here.
{{GM}}The elf in front of you is nothing short of exhausted. Her disheveled appearance and red-ringed eyes scream burnout. A tired, listless voice greets you.{{/GM}}

Hello. Something you need?
{{CC}}Charisma: $(scene.alarmCharismaValue_Hard){{/CC}} Whoa. Hope this doesn't come out the wrong way, but are you okay? I know I'm a stranger, but if you need to talk, I'm a great listener.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Corporate{{/CC}} From the look of you, I'd say quarterlies are just around the corner. How's your team doing?
{{GM}}She looks taken aback.{{/GM}}

What's it to you?
{{CC}}Charisma: $(scene.alarmCharismaValue_Easy){{/CC}} I know how hard it is out there. I'm barely scraping by as a consultant, myself. I thought you might want to talk about it.
Hey, I was just trying to be friendly.
{{GM}}Her nose wrinkles, and lips purse. You can tell she doesn't trust you.{{/GM}}

There's nothing you can do about it, anyway. Nothing anyone can do.

Now, excuse me. I have to get back to work.
{{GM}}She gives you a dubious glance.{{/GM}}

I need to work. Please leave me alone.
{{GM}}The manager's eyes light up at your approach.{{/GM}}

Thank you again, $(l.sir). If there's anything my team can do to help you in the future, you let me know.
On Fire: HP -10 per RND
Shocked: AP -2 per RND
Climbing onto the foredeck of the Nalchi, you pause to catch your breath. The cargo ship rolls and pitches with the waves that batter her sides, and rain assails the deck. Deep thunder rolls overhead.

After a tense moment waiting for the inevitable alarm klaxons... you hear nothing but the storm.
{{GM}}Lifting his nose into the rain, Gaichu tastes the air with his tongue. He carefully turns his head, mouth open to catch the most noise.{{/GM}}

I hear nothing but the storm, and I smell no adrenaline in the air. I believe we have arrived undetected.
{{GM}}Is0bel stares at her commlink. When she speaks, she doesn't bother looking up.{{/GM}}

You can... smell... adrenaline? You get creepier every day.
I will not apologise for what I am, or what that means for my senses. It is a fact of my existence, as much as your height is a fact of yours.

{{GM}}Gaichu turns his unseeing, milky white eyes toward you.{{/GM}}

Your orders?
We'll want to keep low and stay behind cover.
We're exposed out here. When we move, let's do it fast.
{{GM}}Duncan stares into the darkness, the subtle glow of his goggles painting his nose and temples a faint red. After a moment, he nods in satisfaction.{{/GM}}

This is good. The storm's going to make things a lot easier for us. They're less likely to hear gunfire or fighting, much less footsteps. So as long as we can stay hidden, nobody'll be the wiser. We may be able to sneak our way in.
Even if we have to kill a few, if we do it fast we'll still be in the clear. The storm will drown out anything they send or receive on their radios.

If they want to raise the alarm, they'll have to get to one of the shipboard handsets. We can take 'em out before they can get there.
{{GM}}Gaichu clicks his tongue a few times, and then bares his teeth in a rictus grin.{{/GM}}

This storm is making it nearly impossible for me to hear. It will be much worse for the security on the ship. They most likely will not notice us if we stay out of sight.
If we are seen, they will be forced to use wired alarms, as the storm will make using their radios next to impossible.

{{GM}}Gaichu rests a hand on the hilt of his sword, and takes a hissed breath over clenched teeth.{{/GM}}

We should hit them with all possible speed - before they can rouse the rest of the ship.
{{GM}}Is0bel sights down her rifle into the darkness of the ship's deck. After a moment, she lowers the weapon and smirks.{{/GM}}

Looks good. Visibility is near zero, and the storm means no one will hear us coming. If we can stay out of sight, we should be able to get belowdecks without incident.
If we do get spotted, I'm pretty sure they won't be able to radio for help. They'll have to get to a wired alarm. As long as we keep them away from those alarms, we're golden.
Fair point. Let's stay quiet and move quickly.
We hit them hard and fast if we're spotted. Don't give them a chance to react.
{{GM}}Is0bel gestures toward a nearby computer readout. It appears to be unlocked, affording easy access.{{/GM}}

You know, I could probably hack into the ship's systems from that control box. Maybe we could get a better idea of what's going on with the ship.
Good thinking.
Maybe so. Let's look around a bit.
Nearby, there is a security camera control panel. It appears to be unlocked, affording easy access.

If you jack in, you could probably gain access to the topdeck security cameras.
{{GM}}Cocking his head, Duncan listens intently.{{/GM}}

I don't hear any alarms or pounding feet. I guess we got aboard without them noticing. Good - that'll mean a smoother operation.
{{GM}}Placing a hand on her hip, Is0bel nods in satisfaction.{{/GM}}

This ship is probably packed with guards. The longer we can go without them noticing us, the better.
{{GM}}Is0bel looks over the edge of the ship, toward the rapidly direction Captain Jomo piloted his boat.{{/GM}}

That pirate really knows how to move that boat. I'm impressed.
{{GM}}Gobbet nods, picking her teeth with a nail.{{/GM}}

I'm buying that guy a bottle of Old Man Cho's back-deck hooch if we make it out in one piece. Fancy driving... boating... whatever you call it...
{{GM}}Gobbet bends over, squeezing some water out of her ropes of hair. When she stands, she's got an ear-to-ear grin.{{/GM}}

What an awesome ride! And we slipped right under their noses, too. This is gonna be as easy as a sunday afternoon.
{{GM}}Racter gives Gobbet a quizzical look, tilting his chin upward.{{/GM}}

How easy, exactly, is a sunday afternoon?
Really easy? It's a turn of phrase, Clanky. Lighten up! Anyway...

{{GM}}Gobbet turns to look at you.{{/GM}}

How do we wanna do this? I'm thinking there'll be a lot of guards on this boat.
{{GM}}Racter unclips Koschei from the harness he used to haul it aboard. In response, it whirrs and begins powering up weapons systems.{{/GM}}

I wouldn't call it "smooth sailing", but we seem to have slipped by unnoticed. Let's keep it that way.
A nearby systems control panel glows green in the night. You may be able to get into the ship's internal systems from there - a wiser choice than walking blindly out onto the ship's deck.
Ruger 100-S (Smartlink)
Rifle: A stock sniper rifle easily found on the black market, with an integral Smartlink system.
A howl and several thumps catch the cooking staffs' attention. Apprehensive glances are tossed around the kitchen, their fear abruptly confirmed as a huge ork bursts into the room.

The jagged scar on the ork's cheek matches your client's description of the Talon. Or, it would if the Talon's face weren't a lumpy, swollen, seeping mess.
{{GM}}The Talon's face flushes in anger - or perhaps as a side effect of his allergy - and he raises a knobby finger to the room.{{/GM}}

What is *wrong* with this place?

{{GM}}His swollen lips spit more saliva than sounds.{{/GM}}
Excuse me, sir! You're holding the kitchen up. If you have any questions or concerns, speak to our host up front.
{{GM}}He rounds on the chef, shoulders raised in disbelief.{{/GM}}

I've got a *concern* alright. A concern regarding this shit house you call a restaurant.
{{GM}}His voice booms.{{/GM}}

This is the third time you slopheads have fucked up my order. If I'm regularly forced to choke down your garbage, I expect, at the *least,* some substitutions to be followed. NO. SHELLFISH.

Get it right, or next time someone's going to end up a whole lot worse than maimed.
{{GM}}Duncan turns to you, eyebrows raised.{{/GM}}

And you call *me* short-fused. Maybe now you'll think twice before ragging on me when things heat up.
Oh, no. I'll never stop ragging on *you,* Duncan.
Hey... If the Talon's down here, that means he's left the upstairs room unguarded.
You're right. Let's go while he's still distracted.
{{GM}}Gaichu's eyes narrow.{{/GM}}

His anger at this establishment is misplaced. He should speak to his employer instead of venting at the chef.
Yeah, probably.
{{GM}}He nods and inclines his head toward you.{{/GM}}

It seems the Talon's left his post. I suggest we make our way upstairs while room three's unguarded.
You're right. Let's go.
{{GM}}Gobbet lets out a small whistle.{{/GM}}

This lunk's got even more spice than $(story.Global_DuncanNickname).
That's one way to put it.
{{GM}}Is0bel's nose is crinkled in distaste.{{/GM}}

Gross. His face looks like a potato.

{{GM}}She sighs.{{/GM}}

I'm seeing a lot of bark, and no bite. Guess we're lucky no one's gotten hurt.
Yet.
{{GM}}Racter's eyes gleam. He looks thoroughly entertained.{{/GM}}

You'd think he'd know better than to order from here. This is a *seafood* restaurant, after all.
And considering this has happened more than once...
Hey.

{{GM}}He points at the Talon.{{/GM}}

If he's down here, that means a certain someone is unguarded upstairs.
You're right. Let's go while the Talon's still distracted.
As the scene unfolds before you, it becomes apparent that with the Talon downstairs, little is left between you and Rooster upstairs.
SecureTech Vest
An armored vest of lightweight materials. Solid protection with minimum reduction in mobility. Grants +1 Quickness and +5 HP.
Induction Datajack
Induction pads installed in the palm of a hand that mimic the function of a standard datajack. Useful for deckers and riggers who don't want to sacrifice valuable headware space.
Remington Roomsweeper
Pistol: A Remington favorite. Shotgun punch and spread in a heavy-pistol-sized package. Short range but wide spread.
Distraction I
Decreases the target's to hit chance by 12%. Lasts for 1 RND.
Distracted: Accuracy -12%
Acid Stream 1
A stream of acid that also does ongoing 6 HP DMG for 1 RND. Strips 1 Armor from the target.
Taken off a dead ganger, which seemed like a good idea at the time. Grants +1 Quickness and +5 HP.
Firedrake Explode
Cast AOE Buffs
Cast AOE Buffs.
testTARGET: -999 Strength, 4 HP per RND
As you approach the door, a light set into your key fob goes from red to green.

There is a loud series of thunks, and the door slides open. A blast of frigid air floods into the room from the other side.
The opposite side of the living room is dominated by a massive security door. It's much heavier than the exterior apartment door, and looks like a recent addition. The wall has clearly been reinforced to support it.

A series of top-of-the-line commercial-grade maglocks hold the doors sealed; it'd be easier to tunnel through the wall than it would be to break them open.
{{GM}}Examine the door.{{/GM}}
A cursory glance at the door frame reveals no sign of a keypad or a jackpoint, but you do see what appears to be an RFID reader.

A sixteen-digit number has been stenciled onto the side of the reader in red ink.
This didn't come with the apartment. Why fortify an *interior* door like this?
To keep up appearances. If he did this to the hallway door, people would talk.
To keep up appearances, I think. Can you imagine what installing this monstrosity in the hallway would do to the building's aesthetic?

People would talk about it. A man like Ma wouldn't want that.
Well, one thing is certain... we aren't getting through there without a key.

Most likely, that means that we will have to get one from Ma, or from one of his people.
Guess that means that we've got to go back to the party.
Let's check with the building staff - waiters, maintenance, that sort of thing. Someone must have access to get through this thing.
Aww, shucks. I guess we'll just *have* to go back to the party. I mean, that *is* the next logical step.

Tell me we're going to the party.
Looks that way. Saddle up... we've got a party to attend.
To hell with the party. Someone on the building staff must have a key - let's check with them.
I don't know. Let's keep looking around up here.
Guess we're gonna have to head back to that party.
It would appear that we will be returning to Mr. Ma's party.

Hopefully someone there can tell us more.
So, my friend... it would appear that we will be returning to the gala. Surely, one of Ma's associates will know more about this door.
Guess that means that we're going to the party after all.
We're going to the party, aren't we? I mean, that *is* the next logical step.

Tell me we're going to the party.
Guess we're gonna crash that party after all.
It would appear that we will be attending Mr. Ma's party after all.

This should be... interesting.
So, my friend... it would appear that we will be attending the gala after all.
Probably to keep up appearances. Can you imagine how people would talk if he'd installed this thing in the hallway?
To keep up appearances. If he'd installed it in the hallway, people would talk.

A man of Ma's stature would not want that.
This didn't come with the apartment. Looks new... Ma must have had it put in after the accident.

Wonder why he chose to have this done to an *interior* door...?
To keep up appearances, I think. Can you imagine what installing this monstrosity in the hallway would do to the building's aesthetic?

People would talk about it, and that's exactly what a man like Ma doesn't want to have happen.
This is good work... it looks quite sturdy. I doubt that we could break through it without bringing the wall down in the process.

I wonder why he opted to fortify an *interior* door like this...?
{{GM}}He raps the door with his knuckles. The reverberations are low and ominous.{{/GM}}

We aren't getting through this door without a key. Most likely, that means that we will have to get one from Ma, or from one of his people.
Yeah... that makes sense.

{{GM}}She frowns at the heavy door.{{/GM}}

Look, $(l.name), we aren't going to force our way through here. That means that we need a key, and *that* means that--
Breaking the door down doesn't appear to be an option - even if you could manage it, you'd take half of the supporting wall with it.

Finding an RFID key seems like your best option.
The door is still locked, preventing you from accessing the back half of the apartment.
Clouds of oily smoke stream from the smoldering wreckage of the water pump.

Is0bel surveys the damage, shaking her head.
Congratulations. You blew up the pump.
I didn't mean for it to explode.
Don't judge me. You're usually the one who's blowing things up.
It deserved what it got.
I imagine not. The result's the same either way, though.

{{GM}}She turns away.{{/GM}}

Anyway, you got the water drained... that's something, at least. Let's go.
Yeah, but when I do it, it happens for a reason. And on purpose.

Anyway, you got the water drained... that's something, at least. Let's go.
Couldn't agree more.

{{GM}}She gives you a shy smile.{{/GM}}

You got the water drained, too. That was nice work. Now let's go.
Heckler & Koch HK227
SMG: The high-end submachine gun that serves both security and shadowrunners.
Bomb 1.0
Explodes self. Does -75 IP DMG and on-going -25 IP DMG.
Data Burn: IP -25 per RND
Decrypt 3.0
Adds 1.5 seconds to Delay when hacking Blocker IC. Does not stack.
Decker Baggy
The blue pants never fit right; but the flashlight is pretty wiz.
Ares Operative Gear
Ares Corp created this suit for special forces operatives to use during extreme weather incursions.
> Ares Asia Directed Energy Weapons Laboratory Annex
"Aut viam inveniam aut faciam"

Please direct your query.
{{GM}}Search for auto-repair project.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Search recent messages.{{/GM}}
>Auto-Repair Project

Attention: all information contained herein is considered SECRET/ORCON. Duplication of files forbidden. Authorized eyes only.

Select file.
>>Ares Asia Holdings laboratory records system.
"Security. Safety. Progress."

Enter query.
> Desert Wars field testing.
> Re: self-organization subroutine bugs.
> Wait on the next test.
>> Congratulations, everyone!

Ares Europe's given us the go-ahead on entering the Griffin drone prototypes into this season of Desert Wars. Between the auto-repair circuitry, the MP laser prototypes, and the self-organizing threat assessment programs, I think we've got a great chance at being one of the stand-out stars this season. Obviously, we have a lot of work to do between now and the kickoff event, so I'm expecting plenty of crunch time.
I know each and every one of you wants this as much as I do. It's hard for me to express how proud I am of this team and all the hard work you've put in over the past year. If we can pull this off, we're positioned to be one of the biggest teams in security drone hardware in the past ten years. If we buckle down and put in the hours required, I know we can do it.

Glenlivet my office. Come get some.
-Dr. Taylor
{{GM}}Racter grunts softly. When he speaks, he sounds almost sad.{{/GM}}

Taylor, how far you've fallen. When we worked together, he'd never have written this kind of limp corporate missive. We all cared enough about our work that we never had to motivate the team like this.

He's become a management tool of Ares Macrotech. I doubt there's much left of the passionate young researcher I knew.
You think he's lost his edge?
You sound sad.
Not as such. I believe he's still quite capable as a researcher... But when you spend all of your time managing a budget or organizing your team, what time is left to do the actual work? The reason you got into the field in the first place?

No, thank you. That is a disgusting world.
I am. The Dr. Taylor I knew was ready to work out of a basement... a garage... even an ice cave, when we got snowed in outside of Novosibersk during field tests. This new one? He gave up everything that made his independent work valuable. Tied down by inflexible budgets, deadlines, and the arbitrary constraints of a bloated marketing department?

Of course I'm sad. His attention is confined by meaningless process, and the world is poorer for it.
>> Hey, Ian... I've been encountering a worrying bug in the latest multi-drone mesh network tests. After checking on it, I'm pretty sure it originates in the self-organization subroutines.

When the Griffin drones go into self-diagnostic mode and start sharing their telemetry data after field activity, they stop responding to external commands. Even kicking the debugger over to admin mode won't stop them.
It looks like they're not responding to outside commands because they're identifying activity orders as non-critical in comparison to their attempts to share and learn from each other's telemetry.
It's downright spooky. They tried to push me out of the room during one of the tests, because one started firing the onShareCleanupBasecamp function, and the rest picked up on it. They identified me as an object to be removed from their secure space - and the worst part is that the trigger condition was me trying to shut down the mesh network.
I don't know, Ian. I don't like the idea of drones making value judgements about administrator orders. I'd like to strip out the self-organization code for future tests until I can debug it. I understand that we're trying to play catch-up with Renraku on the pseudo-intelligence front, but the fallout if this bug spreads could be pretty catastrophic.

- Dr. Yan.
> Just a heads up for the team - hold on further self-organization tests until you get the all clear from me, Taylor, or Yan.

There's a bug where the drone network refuses external orders while they're pursuing their self-generated directives: data sharing, learning, battle examination, et cetera.
It's nothing critical, but it's going to make debugging other systems a pain in the ass until we get it sorted out. General tests are still a go.

- Dr. Taylor
Ten to one, they're still using my old code. It sounds like the same kind of bug I encountered during my early tests in Moscow.

{{GM}}Racter runs a hand through his hair, squinting at the computer screen from over your shoulder.{{/GM}}

The problem is that they're trying to give orders to the drones while the drones have prioritized their own desires over those of the end-user. They'll never respond so long as they're in group reflection mode.
Drones don't have desires, Racter.
You're saying the drones don't listen because they're busy with their own work, and don't want additional work?
They're still working off your code? How long ago was that?
Perhaps "desire" is not the best word. But they have priorities. Terminating a threat is a higher priority than retreating to recharge at a base station, for instance.

The drones are rejecting external orders because they're a lower priority than finishing the data sharing sequence. The key is to ensure that they 'want' to do your work, by weighting external commands so that they mesh with internal priorities. I ordered the drone to recharge *while* attacking, for instance, it would accept both commands. A terribly simple example that belies the greater complexity, but the core is there.
The deeper I got into data sharing and self-development code, the more I came to realize that it was impossible to build a truly independent drone a system as simple as weighting order priority. Checking from a to b to c is functional, but inelegant.

My solution was to create a system of interlocking desires and motivations that shift and change over time. The only overriding principle is that both Koschei and I must work together to solve problems.
That's tremendously creepy, Racter.
That's a novel approach.
What would happen if you attacked Koschei?
{{GM}}Racter looks a bit crestfallen, and he shakes his head.{{/GM}}

I do not expect you to understand, my friend, but trust me when I say that while it may not work for you, it does for me. Koschei is the single most effective solitary drone in the world, when it comes to independent planning and threat control.

It got that way through my love and respect for science. It may unnerve you, but it's a very effective process.
That's why it works, as well. As you increase independence, so too is danger increased - if Koschei determined the best method of preserving my life was to shoot me in the leg, it would do so.

And I would likely allow that to happen. Koschei's senses and analytical capabilities are superior to my own, at least in terms of battlefield threat assessment.
{{GM}}Racter shoots you a quizzical look, as if he didn't understand the question.{{/GM}}

I would likely miss any shot I took. I've got poor aim, and Koschei is good at taking cover. Assuming I hit it, however? It would ask me why. If I couldn't explain myself sufficiently, Koschei would protect itself.

Of course, I do have a universal kill switch, so that wouldn't happen.
In essence, yes. The more complex pseudo-intelligent drones become, the more we have to learn to 'convince' them that what we've ordered them to do is the best course of action - within reason. Part of the reason the self-correction code exists is to protect against user error.

These drones are only doing what they've been designed to do.
Six years. I spent most of that in Berlin running with a hell of a street samurai. I got out before she did, before the Flux State went under. No idea if Lucky Strike got out or not, but I expect she did.

I was never the best programmer of the team, but after my accident I went back to my old self-organization code to revise it. The new perspective helped, honestly.
> Recent Messages

Attention: all information contained herein is considered SECRET/ORCON. Duplication of files forbidden. Authorized eyes only.

Select file.
> Re: Olympics cancelled!
> Xia, can you put those reports on my desk?
> Can't stinking believe it, Jung. After spending all that time and money tracking down tickets to the 2060 Neo-Tokyo Olympics... The OIC's cancelled them entirely. Some crap about not having enough participants. I guess a ton of countries pulled out in protest over Japan's treatment of metahumans and the way they've handled their holdings in California.
I mean, yeah, I'm all for equality... But the olympics? That's about brotherly love, the spirit of cooperation, and the unity of mankind. I can't imagine anyone using them for such transparently political purposes. It breaks my heart.

- Dr. Ishiguro
> Xia, I was hoping to take a look at your power output test data some time soon. I'm going to be in and out of the office all day, so just let yourself in and put them on my desk. The code is 98144.

- Dr. Taylor
Lashes
An area whip attack that can hit adjacent targets.
Blood Calls to Blood
Unarmed: Causes bleeding to target on impact. When a target is killed, the wielder is healed 5 HP per RND for 3 RNDs. May do AP DMG on critical hits.
Sundowner Mk. 2 Assist
A classic hoverdrone. It carries medkits, smoke grenades, and a target designator.
Talon's Allergy
As it turns out, Johnny "Talon" has a allergy to shellfish. And here he finds himself guarding his boss in the place that serves the best shellfish in all of Hong Kong. Unfortunate to be sure.
Decrypt 1.0
Adds 0.5 seconds of Delay when hacking Blocker IC. Does not stack.
A small data archive node springs to life. It appears to be a set of mails tagged to a reinitialized data center. The data center is labeled "Special Projects."
{{GM}}Read the mails.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Ignore the mail archive.{{/GM}}
>>From: Josephine Tsang
>>To: David Yu
>>Subject: Progress Report

Dr. Yu,

As I expressed in person, the ASIST-based security project is on an accelerated timetable. As such, I require regular updates to track progress.

What is the status of the device?

- JT
{{GM}}Continue reading.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Exit the mail archive.{{/GM}}
>>From: David Yu
>>To: Josephine Tsang
>>RE: Progress Report

Mrs. Tsang,

Please forgive my lack of proactive communication. I have been working around the clock to meet your timetable and was ignoring my mail in order to focus on the task.
Lab Twelve has already been refitted to support the ASIST project, and I have several noted experts on memory modification contracted. They have already arrived on site. The security project is ahead of schedule, despite the timing concerns that I articulated in our initial conversation.

I must stress, however, that even though we are ahead of schedule, the operation's probability of success is low. I just wish to set the appropriate level of expectations.

Best Regards,
David Yu
>>From: Josephine Tsang
>>To: David Yu
>>RE:RE: Progress Report

I am pleased that you are ahead of schedule, Mr. Yu, but let us be clear - my expectations are already set.

I expect success.
>>From: David Yu
>>To: Josephine Tsang
>>RE:RE:RE: Progress Report

Mrs. Tsang,

Were this a simple memory wipe or even a straight replacement, e.g., swapping one discrete memory for another, my confidence would be quite high. The technology and techniques are mature and well documented.
The process of replacing a seminal event in a subject's time line and then revising its myriad downstream memories is daunting work even in an open-ended time frame. Given the duration of the task, I cannot, in good conscience, predict higher than a slim probability of success.

Respectfully,
David Yu
>>From: Josephine Tsang
>>To: David Yu
>>RE:RE:RE:RE: Progress Report

Deal with the seminal event within the proscribed timetable. Edward is 65. If the downstream memories appear contradictory or confusing, we will "treat him" for a medical condition linked to senility while we work the bugs out.
>>From: David Yu
>>To: Josephine Tsang
>>RE:RE:RE:RE:RE: Progress Report

Yes, madam.

Regards,
David Yu
Made for the UCAS military. Grants +1 Intelligence and +1 Drone Control.
Target Head
Single Target. Increases chance of a critical hit.
Normal type.
{{GM}}The guard's brow furrows at your approach. He looks giddy, or maybe antsy, as he flexes the hand closest to his handgun.{{/GM}}

Halt! This area's off limits. Only select personnel are allowed in here. You have identification?
{{GM}}Show him your ID.{{/GM}} Easy, man. Just making a delivery.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(scene.alarmCharismaValue_Easy){{/CC}} {{GM}}Show him your Tsang security passes.{{/GM}} Front desk sent me here for new-employee orientation.
{{GM}}Show him your Tsang security passes.{{/GM}} You're in my way.
{{GM}}His blinks in confusion, but then seems to decide on something, and nods his head.{{/GM}}

Delivery. Right. On with you, then.
{{GM}}At your words, he seems to relax. He glances at your passes, hardly long enough to read anything, and returns his gaze to you.{{/GM}}

Hoo... Welcome aboard. I'm pretty new, myself. Just finished up orientation a month ago. Go on ahead! And good luck.
Keep up the good work.
I can hardly tell. See you around.
{{GM}}He peers at the passes, suspicious.{{/GM}}

And exactly *where* do these passes grant you access?
You know... everywhere.
Right here, right now. So move it!
The entire building, excluding the third floor's broom closet.
{{GM}}The guard's face flushes with anger.{{/GM}}

I know a liar when I see one. I didn't want to do this, but you leave me no choice!

{{GM}}His hand flies to his holster.{{/GM}}
Decrypt 2.0
Adds 1 second to Delay when hacking Blocker IC. Does not stack.
HKPF EOD Suit
A version of the suit worn by explosives ordnance disposal experts. This one has been customized to be light enough to wear while in combat.
Strike the Anvil
The middle attack in the Metal Stance chain. HP DMG 75% of normal, +1 AP DMG.
Defiance T-250 (Smartlink)
Shotgun: A top-of-the-line shotgun for those who like big damage, with an integral Smartlink system.
Rifle: Smaller than most assault rifles, yet just as deadly.
Passive: The adept has +1 Armor. Active: The adept gains a further +2 Armor for 3 RNDS.
Mystic Armor: Armor +3
Eagle's Iron Talons
The opener attack of the Metal Stance combo. +1 AP DMG, no HP DMG.
TEST FOR SUBDUE.
Tactical Reload
Reloads all equipped weapons.
Blood Burn II
An ancient blood magic that also does ongoing -6 HP for 2 RNDS.
An elegant terminal, no doubt teeming with valuable Tsang information. It's unattended. One quick motion, and you could probably jack into it with a cyberdeck.
{{GM}}The receptionist watches you make your way across the lobby. She studies you from head to toe, and a barely concealed look of disgust on her face.{{/GM}}

Welcome to Tsang Mechanical Services. How can I be of service?

{{GM}}Her forced pleasantry reeks of condescension.{{/GM}}
I'm here for a meeting.
I'm here to make a delivery.
{{GM}}She looks at you, unblinking, in blatant disbelief.{{/GM}}

Is that right? And with whom is this meeting?
{{GM}}Whisper.{{/GM}} It'll be with you if you don't keep quiet and give me elevator access.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Corporate{{/CC}} {{GM}}Wink.{{/GM}} No one actually. I know how I may appear, but I'm required to go incognito for our quarterly inspection.
{{CC}}Charisma: 3 {{/CC}} {{GM}}Show her your Tsang security passes.{{/GM}} I'm afraid that's confidential. You know how it is - there's a rule for everything these days. Is it alright with you if I make my delivery and come right back?
{{GM}}Show her your Tsang security passes.{{/GM}} Did I say I had a meeting? I meant I'm part of the new maintenance crew. Here, I've got credentials.
{{GM}}Her eyes widen, her hand moves subtly, and an instant later an alarm begins to blare overhead. She shouts into a radio pin on her collar.{{/GM}}

Security to the front desk - emergency!
{{GM}}She winks.{{/GM}}

I understand. Just head for the elevators. I won't say anything.
{{GM}}She rolls her eyes.{{/GM}}

Please proceed to the elevators.
{{GM}}She looks unconvinced. Her eyes move from the ID back to you, and she summons an exaggerated smile.{{/GM}}

It seems your credentials have expired.
{{GM}}She signals the nearby guards.{{/GM}}

Gentlemen! Please keep our *visitor* company while I check these passes.
Make it quick, please. My meeting starts in two minutes.
{{GM}}Attack the guards.{{/GM}} Think I'll cut through some red tape.
I'm sure you'll find there's been a mistake.
{{GM}}She smiles and nods, then looks down at the screen in front of her and signals the guards.{{/GM}}

It appears your identification is from a deceased employee. Guards!
{{GM}}She eyes you, unblinking, in blatant disbelief.{{/GM}}

Is that right? And who is this delivery for?
{{GM}}Whisper.{{/GM}} It'll be for you if you don't keep quiet and give me elevator access.
{{GM}}Show her your Tsang security passes.{{/GM}} Did I say I had a delivery? I meant I'm part of the new maintenance crew. Here, I've got credentials.
{{GM}}She winks back.{{/GM}}

I understand. Just head for the elevators. I won't say anything.
Make it quick, please. My orientation starts in two minutes.
Steel Cuts the Heavens
The final attack in the Metal Stance chain. 75% DMG.
Target Locked Shot
Increases accuracy by 12% for this shot.
Bomb 3.0
Explodes self. Does -150 IP DMG and on-going -25 IP DMG.
Erosion Lvl 1
Erodes integrity points of IC,. Does -45 IP, with ongoing -25 IP for 2 RNDS.
INTERNAL ANNOUNCEMENT: Tsang Security Increase

The Tsang company has increased its security measures in a company-wide movement to protect its investments. Tsang's actions on this matter are to remain company knowledge only. Any mention or leak of this information will not be tolerated. Employees found guilty of divulging said security movement to outside parties will be black-listed and purged from Tsang Mechanical Services.
Security protocols will double throughout Tsang proper. In the case of Laboratory Twelve, security will be enhanced threefold for optimum protection. Those who work in Laboratory Twelve will be upgraded to Omega-level clearance. Admittance to the laboratory will he heavily monitored, and all visitors must have Omega clearance or higher with critical business in the area.
The captain of this station has pre-approved a limited release of Laboratory Twelve's elevator code to Omega personnel. Receipt of this message is proof of your authorization.

Warning: this information is highly sensitive and should remain restricted to Omega-plus knowledge only. Violators will experience aforementioned black-listing and company purging.
{{GM}}Read the note regarding the first-aid station.{{/GM}}
The elevator dings softly, and a bright, sophisticated elevator panel awaits your input.
{{GM}}Take the elevator to the Rooftop garden.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Take the elevator to the Penthouse floor.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Take the elevator to the Mezzanine floor.{{/GM}}
The elevator panel awaits your selection.
Armored Vest with Plates
Protective Kevlar vest with armored plate inserts. Adds weight but keeps the arms free for combat. Grants +1 Close Combat and +5 HP.
You enter the women's restroom to find Is0bel waiting impatiently for you. Her guest badge dangles from its lanyard at a canted angle, and the clumped ropes of her hair look frazzled.

At the sight of you, she steps forward.
You're here. Good. I was getting tired of hanging out in the ladies' room.

You have the uniform?
{{CC}}Item: Catering Uniform{{/CC}} {{GM}}Hand it to her.{{/GM}} There you go.
No, I haven't found one yet.
{{GM}}She eyes the embroidery of the logo, nodding.{{/GM}}

Good... good. This will work.
All right. I'm gonna change into this thing and hightail it to the employees-only door on the far side of the convention hall.

They'll let me in, even without a badge... they'll just figure that some rich guy wants a drink.
Where's the VIP area?
On the other side of the convention floor. I'll have to cross the show floor to do it, but that should be safe enough.

Nobody pays attention to the catering staff at these things.
{{GM}}Gobbet perks up.{{/GM}}

I do!
{{GM}}She scowls.{{/GM}}

...Nobody who isn't preoccupied with stuffing her face pays attention to the catering staff.
{{GM}}She nods sagely.{{/GM}}

That is fair.
So I'll make my way across, pass through the door, and take the elevator up to the admin wing on the sixth floor.

All that you need to do is take your position and wait for my instructions *without* raising an alarm.
Pretty simple stuff. Should be foolproof, assuming that you don't screw anything up.

Do you have any questions?
Have you figured out what you're going to do about that spotty commlink connection?
What am I supposed to do on the show floor again?
What should I do between when you leave and when you get in position?
No more questions. Let's hit it.
Yes. There's a demo kiosk near the VIP entrance... it's running some new Matrix avatar editing suite, or something like that. The software is called "PerfectPersona."

When I get to the admin area, I'm gonna patch myself into the PerfectPersona console, and we're going to communicate through that.
It isn't a perfect solution, but it beats having to deal with a dropped connection.

Just be sure to grab the kiosk when you're in position. Don't let anyone else get to it.
Wait by the VIP area door. When I identify Rhombus, you'll apprehend him and tell him that he's the lucky winner of a complimentary VIP pass upgrade.
You'll escort him through the VIP doors and to a room that I'll have empty and waiting.

Then we'll all get the software from him together, beat him up, and stash him in a closet.
Walk the show floor. Mingle. Try to look like you belong here.

Just... try not to say or do anything that'll stand out in a bad way. You're supposed to be a hot new decker in town, try to act the part.
One question for you, though.

{{GM}}She gives the fabric a squeeze, and a stream of water spatters to the tile floor.{{/GM}}

Why is this thing soaking wet?
I might have activated the sprinklers in the kitchen. A bit.
Look, you asked for a uniform and I brought you one. You didn't say that it had to be dry.
Oh... no reason.
{{GM}}She shakes her head.{{/GM}}

$(l.name)... why do you destroy everything you touch?
It's just a personality quirk of mine.
I don't destroy *everything.* Just *some* things.
Asks the woman with the grenade launcher.
{{GM}}She stares at you for a moment longer, then closes her eyes. Shakes her head again to clear it.{{/GM}}

...Anyway. I'm gonna change into this wet, disgusting jacket and hightail it to the employees-only door on the far side of the convention hall.

{{GM}}She continues wringing the wet fabric while she talks, grimacing in distaste.{{/GM}}
They'll let me in, even without a badge. They'll just figure that some rich guy wants a drink.

I'll have to cross the show floor to do it, but that should be safe enough. Nobody pays attention to the catering staff at these things.
Better hop to it, then. This is a carefully timed plan.

We can't afford to have Rhombus arrive on the show floor while I'm standing here in the bathroom.
Do you have the uniform yet?
Bomb 2.0
Explodes self. Does -125 IP DMG and on-going -25 IP DMG.
Cast Movement Power
Target's gets bonus movement
Erosion Lvl 3
Erodes integrity points of IC. Does -80 IP, with ongoing -25 IP for 2 RNDS.
Heal III
Heals yourself or a friendly target for 50 HP.
Silver Tech Cyberarm (Basic)
Silver Technology's basic replacement limb mimics the form and function of a biological arm. This civilian-grade model is street legal in Hong Kong. Passive: +6 HP.
Sorcerer's Robes
Enchanted to act as focus for the wearer's magical abilities. Grants +1 Willpower, +1 Charisma, and +1 Spellcasting.
Blood Burn I
An ancient blood magic that also does ongoing -3 HP for 2 RNDs.
Degrade Lvl 1
Hostile target will take 25 additional damage from incoming attacks for 3 rounds.
Incoming DMG from attacks is reduced by 20. Lasts 3 RNDS.
Shield: All Incoming DMG -20
Heal V
Heals yourself or a friendly target for 100 HP.
Chip Cylinder
A brightly decorated case of chips for Reliable Matthew.
Adversary Cultist
Erosion Lvl 2
Erodes integrity points of IC. Does -60 IP, with ongoing -25 IP for 2 RNDS.
{{GM}}Your commlink clicks. A burst of static, then the sound clears to a reveal a soft voice.{{/GM}}

$(l.name). Is this your channel?
Sure is.
Who's asking?
Name's Pei-Lon. I'm your getaway driver. We have details to discuss, but let's keep it brief. Time's ticking.
{{GM}}Another burst of static, and Pei-Lon continues.{{/GM}}

I'm at the loading dock across the bridge from the restaurant's main entrance. Big old schooner. Can't miss me.

But neither will the HKPF, who've I've just learned are on their way here in response to a security call.
Well, shit - I'm on my way!
This oughtta be fun.
I can handle a few HKPF officers.
One last thing.

I may be the driver, but this ain't my rig. Door's locked and I don't know the code. You may have to break in.

Good luck, and get moving.

{{GM}}A click, and your commlink is fills with static. Pei-Lon is gone.{{/GM}}
And they said this run would be simple. Who will join us next? The marching band?

{{GM}}He shoots you a glance, and the playfulness drops from his expression.{{/GM}}

In any case, if the HPF knows about Rooster's extraction, so will the Talon. We need to prepare ourselves for a confrontation by both parties.
{{GM}}Is0bel lifts her gaze for a rare eye-to-eye.{{/GM}}

This is serious. If the HKPF knows Rooster's missing, then so will the Talon. He may try to stop us.

We need to stay focused, and get to the boat as soon as possible.
Oh, great. If the HKPF knows Rooster's missing, then that big guy's gotta. What's his name - the Talon. He'll be after us, too.

Let's not get too comfy just yet, and hope we can beat them to the boat.
I assume that if the HKPF knows about Rooster's extraction, so does the Talon. We should prepare ourselves in case he tries to stop us.
Let's stay sharp. If the HKPF knows Rooster's missing, then so will the Talon. And I have a feeling we'll be running into him again.
That was a courtesy question. I always triple-check my information - I know it's you.
Friends within a range of 5 squares gain Heavy cover.
Sapped: Willpower -2, HP -4 per RND
Acid Bolt I
Acid: HP -2 per RND
Equipment Room Door Code
>8974
For those who dress for inside the Matrix and out. Grants +1 Intelligence.
For those who dress for inside the Matrix and out. Grants +1 Intelligence and +1 ESP Control.
Heal II
Heals yourself or a friendly target for 25 HP.
Simple Drone Repair Kit
A standard drone repair kit that repairs 10 HP.
{{GM}}The shaman nods his head in gratitude.{{/GM}}

Thank you for your help.
But what are you doing in the Walled City at a time like this?

{{GM}}He looks you up and down, and his hand unconsciously rises to stroke his beard as his thoughts churn.{{/GM}}
I'm here on business.
It's a family thing...
Just looking to make some extra nuyen off this chaos.
{{GM}}His eyes narrow, suspicion obvious.{{/GM}}

I see.
Enough about me. What's your name?
Do you know anything about what's happening to this city?
Seen anything strange?
Looks like you're packing quite a few items there. I'm looking to buy. Can I see what you've got?
I... I'm sorry, but now isn't the time for us to be sharing personal details.
{{CC}}Charisma: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Easy){{/CC}} Don't worry, I'm not asking you for your bank codes or anything. I'd just like to know who I helped is all. My name's $(s.name).
{{CC}}Strength: $(story.Global_Skillcheck_Hard){{/CC}} I just saved your ass, and you won't even tell me your name? Don't make me force it out of you.
{{CC}}Etiquette: Corporate{{/CC}} Wait, I know you. I've seen your name on bounties posted around Shadowland. You're Dimalanta, right?
{{CC}}¥200{{/CC}} {{GM}}Bribe the man.{{/GM}} C'mon, not even for a friend?
Fine. Then I won't tell you mine.
{{GM}}He looks uneasy, and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. After a moment, he cracks a small smile and sighs.{{/GM}}

I suppose you're right, and I appreciate what you did for me.

I'm Dimalanta. It's nice to meet you.
I don't mean t come off as rude. It's just...

{{GM}}He chooses his words carefully.{{/GM}}

I've been in the Walled City for some time. Everything here is so under the radar, and I needed to disappear.
Not too long ago I discovered a bounty on my head. Don't ask why - couldn't tell you. Don't know. But I've already run into one too many runners who've jumped at the chance to try and turn me in.

So you understand my caution...
{{GM}}His back stiffens at your comment. He looks anxious, and he sweeps hand over his short, dark hair.{{/GM}}

I didn't realize word of my bounty was so easy to stumble across. Bad news for me.
I'm in a pinch.

{{GM}}He shakes his head.{{/GM}}

No, more like a vice. I've made it my mission to brings down the corps. But with this bounty on my head, it's getting harder and harder to dodge the people who want to cash me in. That's I'm in here in this shit hole of a city.
The corporations *have* to pay for what they've done.

{{GM}}He searches your face, his eyes pleading.{{/GM}}

Please. Don't turn me in.
Sorry, man. I get it. I do. But the bounty's just too damn good.
Far as I'm concerned, we've never met.
Here's what we're going to do: you're going to give me something from your wares - some *real* good - and I'm going to let you go. Understand?
No. I don't think you *do* get it.

Aren't you a runner, too? Aren't you tired of seeing the corporations' bloody hands go unwashed and unpunished?

It's up to people like us to burn them down.
That's a hell of a noble goal for a runner. Don't hear that sort of thing often.

C'mon, $(l.name). We can spare him. Let the man do his work - he'll be helping us out in the long run.
Wait, $(l.name). I know the pay's great, but think about what this guy's doing - they payoff will be far greater than nuyen.

He's trying to make a difference. Like *us.* I think we should let him go.
Before this goes any further, I'd like to say that I agree with Dimalanta. Think about it: he's after the corporations. We're constantly being hindered by them. Just look around us at what Tsang Corp's doing to the Walled City!

$(l.name), I think it'd be worth our while to let him go.
{{GM}}Let him off the hook.{{/GM}}
{{GM}}Use your PDA to broadcast his location.{{/GM}} Whoops. Now the entire Shadowland BBS knows where you are.
{{GM}}He shakes his head at you.{{/GM}}

Why would you even do that? Why... oh, the hell with it. And the hell with you.
{{GM}}You can see his whale body relax as relief floods through him. He musters a tired smile.{{/GM}}

Thanks, stranger.
{{GM}}Dimalanta sighs through gritted teeth. Fury boils within his eyes.{{/GM}}

Doesn't sound like I have a choice. It's yours.

Now get out of here - our deal's been fulfilled.
Not much. Just that things are bleak, and I'm doing my best to stay out of it. But there are Tsang officers, triads, and residents everywhere - it's like swimming through people soup.

But I don't know why. I just know that something big must be going on to warrant all this madness.
{{GM}}His brow furrows as he considers the question.{{/GM}}

Now that you mention it, I noticed the locals acting sort of... off. Some are wandering around in a daze. Others are having tantrums. And a few of them were even wailing on officers like crazed animals. I thought they might just be pissed about their homes being invaded, but there's something in their eyes...
{{GM}}He clears his throat, breaking his statement.{{/GM}}

No, it's probably nothing. City's under fire - people are probably just confused and lashing out.

Still... be careful around the civilians. They're strung pretty tight right now.
Go ahead. At this point, they're are mostly liabilities. You could help me out by lightening the load.
{{GM}}Survey his wares.{{/GM}}
All right. Anything else you might need?
Back so soon? My wares are still here if you need another look.
Scientist / Medical
Scrubs and a lab coat. Must provide own clipboard.
SecureTech Ultra Vest
Protective Kevlar vest of lightweight material. Provides excellent mobility and protection. Grants +1 Quickness and +1 Dodge.
Incoming DMG from attacks is reduced by 45. Lasts 3 RNDS.
Shield: All Incoming DMG -45
Two men in dirty synthleather jackets look up from their conversation at your approach. They both look haggard - their shoulders slump with exhaustion, and neither appears to have shaved this morning.
What do you want, $(l.man)? We're talking here.
I'm new in town. Figured it'd pay to make all the connections I can.
{{GM}}Walk away.{{/GM}} Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt.
{{GM}}A grim chuckle rumbles out of him.{{/GM}}

You chose the wrong day, stranger. We're movin' further downstream, and we're doin' it today.

There's somethin' wrong with this place. Too many bad dreams.
I know what you mean.
Yeah? What sort of bad dreams?
I'm sorry I missed you, then. Hope you have better luck downstream.
{{GM}}The man blinks. His expression shifts from guarded to curious.{{/GM}}

Did you dream it, too? The long corridor and the thing with the ivory crown?
Honestly, I can't remember.
{{GM}}He licks his lips, nodding.{{/GM}}

Lots of people in town dreamed it, or something like it. From the folks I've talked to, there were a bunch of different versions - some people turned away from the corridor, went down alleys, that kind of thing.
I've never even set foot in the Walled City before, stranger. So tell me... why the hell am I dreaming about it all of a sudden?

I don't even know what the damned thing looks like on the inside.
I think that there's something strange going on... something magical. And the Walled City is where it's coming from.
Collective hallucination, maybe. I don't know. Stranger things have happened.
Why are you asking me? Like I told you, I'm new here.
{{GM}}He grunts.{{/GM}}

It's a curse. Nothing else it could be.

Everybody knows that place is haunted, a living hell full of evil spirits and poisoned qi. If you're not careful, you'll wind up trapped inside with the rest of the human garbage.
{{GM}}His companion cuts in. You catch a healthy whiff of alcohol on his breath.{{/GM}}

That isn't gonna happen to us. No way. Only the lowest of the low wind up in the Walled City.

So like he said, we're going further downstream. Soon as our things are packed, we're out of here.
Damn right. This place is a dump anyway.

Let's try our luck in Macau. To hell with this place.
Best of luck, then.
We could say the same to you. You're staying here in Heoi, after all.

Of the three of us, you're the one who's most likely to need it.
{{GM}}He grunts.{{/GM}}

No way. This ain't no hallucination - it's a curse. Nothing else it could be.

Everybody knows that place is haunted, a living hell full of evil spirits and poisoned qi. If we're not careful, we'll wind up trapped inside with the rest of the human garbage.
You did. I'll bet you did - lots of people in town dreamed it, or something like it.

From the folks I've talked to, there were a bunch of different versions - some people turned away from the corridor, went down alleys, that kind of thing.
The kind that bite.

You'll see it too if you stay here long enough. The long hall, and the thing in the ivory crown.
I've already seen it.
{{GM}}He nods at you.{{/GM}}

Best of luck to you as well. If you're stayin' here, you're gonna need it.
He turns back to his companion, grumbling.